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THE INFORMANT

The day was gray, the air thick with humidity. I stood outside the old record shop, the kind where you could still smell the vinyl. Inside, the owner, Mr. Jenkins, was closing up shop. He was the kind of guy who knew more about music than anyone, and every time he closed, it felt like a loss.

I stepped in, and the bell above the door jingled. Mr. Jenkins looked up, his eyes narrowing as he took in my worn-out sneakers and faded hoodie. “Another one of those,” he said, a hint of disdain in his voice. “What you want, boy?”

I took a deep breath and stepped closer to the counter. “I’m here for the Miles Davis,” I said. “The blue one. Can I have a listen?”

Mr. Jenkins nodded, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. “Go ahead,” he said, shuffling through a pile of records. “But don’t mess it up, you hear me?”

I sat down on a stool, my fingers tracing the grooves of the record. The needle dropped, and the sound of “So What” filled the air. It was like being transported back, to that moment when everything felt right. The song spoke of freedom, of escape, of finding yourself.

I listened to every note, every pause. And when the last note faded, I knew. I knew it was time to leave. I stood up, the record shop closing around me, and walked out, the bell jingling behind me.

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THE MEMORY

That memory stayed with me. It was the first time I truly felt the weight of what I was giving up. The gray day, the smell of the old records, the sound of Miles Davis, every detail was etched in my mind. It was a moment that felt like it would never fade.

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THE INFORMANT

Years later, I found myself back in that record shop, the blue Miles Davis in my hands. I thought of that day, of the man who knew more than anyone. And I decided to create a song that captured that memory, that feeling of being torn between worlds. “The Informant” is about more than just a song; it’s about the memories we carry and the moments that define us.

When I sit down to write, I think of that day. The song starts with the sound of the jingling bell, the same sound that echoed through the old record shop. The lyrics are about the cost of the memories we hold dear, and the price we pay for them. It’s a reminder that every stream buys back a piece of what it cost.

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THE CALL TO RELENTLESS AARON

If you have a story, a memory, a moment that feels like yesterday, let me know. Share your story at relentlessaaron.net. The songs are here to capture those moments, to hold them close, and to remind us of what truly matters.

You’ve been paying the cost of not knowing long enough. Every stream buys back a piece of what it cost. Same person. Same income. Different knowledge.

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