What's amazing about matchbox twenty is that they, in effect, do it all. They fulfill the needs of the pop listener, of people who want groovy background music. And, for those who pause to listen to the lyrics, awesome words to sing. There's another layer though, one that doesn't intrude. It's there for those wanting, no needing, it. Another layer. Just drift deeper into the music, and you can feel the heartbeat. You can feel your palpitations slide in tune to matchbox twenty's. And you're not alone.
I've found a kindred spirit in Rob Thomas. Such connections in this life are rare. Tears come to my eyes as I realised how special this band is, and how fortunate I am that they made it through. "Cool bands don't sell records"; Paul's got a shirt that says this. Extraordinary that one slipped by the glare of newcomer scrutiny and stepped into the limelight. They've now made connections all over the world.
I think of how each began. A delivery man, a musicology degree holder, a receptionist, a waiter, and a wanderer. Imagine meeting them along the road to matchbox twenty. Surely each didn't receive the respect they deserved all along the way.
I especially think of the wanderer, the hitchhiking soul with his thumb extended by the roadside. Would I have stopped? What wisdom did he impart on those who assisted him on his journey to self realisation? Do these people remember that boy and connect him with the man he is today? Each one of these people is a part of who he has become. If only I had been too.