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The Sommelier

///verse 1
the sommelier doesnt drink to get intoxicated
tastes to understand the vineyard, the weighted
history of a specific slope in a specific year
when the rain arrived seventeen days late and the fear
and the sweetness lived inside the same skin, thats the vintage
thats the information the casual consumer misses at the binge
i been developing a palate since I could hold a pen
and feel the difference between whats made and whats been
manufactured for a market between the terroir true
and the technically correct but nobody actually grew
this from the ground up, I can taste the distance
between the handmade and the industrial insistence
of consistency but consistency without character
is just the absence of failure, thats not spectacular
thats safe and safety doesnt have a terroir
safety has no specific slope, no particular star
light in a particular harvest just the average
of a thousand unremarkable passages
through unremarkable seasons and you can taste it
on the palette, smooth, balanced, wasted
///hook
the sommelier reads the glass before the label
knows the vintage by the weight, the nose, the table
pf contents that the liquid writes on contact with the air
the sommelier reads the craft before its aware
of being read, knows the hand that made it
by the residue of how the hand displayed its
pressure, its uncertainty, its particular genius
the sommeliers the reader and the thesis
///verse 2
every bar Ive encountered left a finish on my palate
the tannins of the complicated, the fruit of the ballad
the mineral of the pure craft, the acid of the grime
the terroir of a borough in a very specific time
i can tell you who was sitting in what room at what hour
by the oxidation of the image, the residual flower
of an influence metabolized and sweated out and gone
except in the sediment the language built upon
the sommelier trains for years before pronouncing anything
because pronouncing without earning is just mumbling
with confidence and the craft rewards the patient taster
not the first impression the sustained encounter with the structure
rewards the one who comes back for the third sip
and the fourth the finish is where the real grip
of the thing reveals itself the aftertaste is the thesis
the first impression is just the preamble, the real piece is
what remains when the obvious has faded
when the fruit note that seduced you has vacated
the palate and the tannin structures what your left with
the skeleton of what it is stripped of its gift wrap
and I am a tannin structure emcee
i am what remains when the seduction leaves
the palate dry and asking for the architecture
of the actual and I am the lecture
underneath the entertainment both are real
but only one of them is what you feel
three hours later when your not in the room
thinking about it thats the sommeliers proof
///verse 3
theres a vintage I return to when I need to calibrate
an album cut from a year of particular weight
when the producer and the emcee were both testing
against something real and the compression
of that reality into the bar is audible
if your listening correctly, if your palates capable
of reading duress in the syllable and it is
once youve trained for it the sommeliers business
is exactly that reading the duress
the beauty, the confusion, the digress
ion from the plan in the finished work
reading the human in the art, the quirk
of consciousness that makes it specific
and specific is the sommeliers aesthetic

Lyrics added by Jonahh

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