I received an advanced copy of Spekulation’s newest record, Truth Be Told, two months ago. That version of the record did not include the final song, “Nothing Left To Do”. That sixth and ultimate track is as sweetly composed and important as any I’ve heard in recent memory. 

The song features Seattle singer Michele Khazak—one of the city’s most skilled vocalists. She and Spek exchange verses at the outset before going on a quicker back-and-forth about the idea that sometimes there is no option but to be patient. She sings, “And stop chasing that fuckin’ clock ‘round and ‘round, I’m tryna sleep.” Spek replies, “But you should know before you go that though the clock tells the time, the time itself is yours to keep.”

The song found me at a juncture when I needed to hear its message. Since listening to it the first time, I’ve swallowed Michele’s hook over and over: “Sometimes there’s nothing left to do but wait.” As fast as life can move, as fast as one might want it to move, sometimes there is only patience. It’s a song about being out of control, but not like a conductor-less train on some rickety track. Rather, it sings to the idea of drive without space for movement. As an editor for this magazine, bartender and bass player in a couple bands, I find myself in constant communication—emails, texts, Facebook, Twitter, show promotion, working behind the bar. This song though found me at a time when I didn’t know what to do next, I felt anxious and out of place. But “Nothing Left To Do” offered a release. There is, in its melody, the essence of a lullaby, the comfort of a human voice, which embodies the condition of our protesting forward and yet our need for reprieve.

Doing, creating, sharing, are necessary for finding joy. But there are instances—days, weeks, maybe months—when there is nowhere to go, nothing to do, no creative energy or outlet. And it’s in these times that it’s good to know, and to know so sweetly, that others honor that sometimes there is really nothing left to do but wait.

I’ve played Truth Be Told front-to-back six times this morning; I particularly enjoy the first and fifth tunes, “Hi Hello Yo” and “All The Soldiers”, the second of which features the glamorous Okanomodé Soulchilde as singer and spoken-word poet paying tribute to victims of recent Seattle shootings. The album’s first single, “Remember”, is a thoughtful, articulate reflection on intense love-in-the-moment feelings coupled with those spectral memories that appear in one’s head even long after heartbreak.

But damn I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of the album’s final cut.

–Jake Uitti, The Monarch Review