Looking for "Energy"

I've recently been feeling like the effects of pandemic burnout were at once stronger and more severe than I ever considered. That's besides the plain fact of contracting Covid twice along the way.

Shit has been rough.

Sleep overtakes me even after God doses of espresso and cold brew. Fresh air can help, but sometimes feels scarier than just avoiding the daily immune test that we call "outside." But there have been some remedies to the beastly sandmen lurking over every daytime hour.

This is where I have to thank Beyoncé. Reluctantly, I'll admit I was not a huge listener before 2021, when I first dedicated a huge workout routine to "Blow" by the Houston superstar. I would catch a groove at a point about an hour into the cycles and just let her disco track repeat until sweat stung my eyeballs. Music is one of my most underrated mood-altering substances. Some tracks are dopamine and others adrenaline.

When summer came around, I was bopping to my usual gritty New York street poets and the occasional R&B throwback. Then, Beyoncé released "Renaissance" and injected an Orisha-blessed shock into the collective main vein. The first thirty-five minutes of that album are like a workout MC's 7 a.m. invocations to dedicated stationary spinners. I've been listening to it at the gym where I go to run even though I despise running. Like with "Blow," I get embarrassingly charged and start pacing out dance moves and left-to-right swings of hands in the air. The other attendees, mostly seniors or work-from-home warriors, likely don't see me or care, but I'm glad that I fall into that unashamed trance anyway. The peak moment in that 6-song stretch is "Energy," an Afro-pop stunner. I wish that song had a pill because I'd eat it hourly.