“Wow, she’s fucking angry!”

“I don’t get it…”

“Of course you won’t. Give it a few years, and you’ll find out how angry those words hit”

I could never zero out what style of music my aunt Beatriz liked. She lived in Tampico-Madero and I spent most of my holidays at her gaff. All the cooking -and brewing- I know it’s because of her. She wasn’t a fan of classical music like my grandfather, and her dislike of opera and anything with violins was bluntly reminded to you if you ever dared play anything like that.

Country she never minded. My cousin, her brother’s daughter, was a big fan of early 90s pop country, and there was this channel on the satellite dish they owned that played music 24/7, while still selling albums and 10 CDs for a penny or so, Columbia House style. I remember this particular channel peddling the Buddah Records box collection, Bob Seger’s greatest hits, and way too many country artists to remember, although Alan Jackson, Brooks & Dunn, Michelle Wright, Reba McEntire, The Mavericks, Buckwheat Zydeco, and Tim McGraw were staples of the channel. Heck, I swore Aaron Neville was a country singer based on his ubiquitous cover of The Grand Tour, took me yours to get to know how easy was for him to cross genres.

So, the snippet of conversation at the beginning of this post is what I remember from watching the video with my aunt. I’m terrible at social queues and probably worse at speaking with people who are subtle, so the interpretation of Take it like a man flew over my head.

It’s a belter at karaoke -or so I’m told- and it’s one of the few songs I remember my aunt humming along to. She wasn’t one for singing, so the few times she did, it meant the song resonated with her.

Then again, she also sang Woolly Bully at the slightest provocation, so what do I know?

-Sam J. Valdés López