Riding Round the Block

Nine o'clock, the work is done. Dust on the shoes, the city already in the head. The keys feel cool in the hand, and outside waits an old Mustang with the top down.

The radio is on, the funk locks in. Snare sharp, bass deep, horns that punch. Past the corner where the streetlights shine, down King Street, where people are already dancing on the pavement in front of the door.

Nothing in this song is complicated. A car, a street, a beat on the one. That is how Saturday nights felt when the records were new, and that is how The Soulcatcher keeps them.

Told from the song itself. Felt, not always lived exactly like this.

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