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Don't go chasing, unless you're prepared for the falling that follows | MARK HUGHES COBB – The Tuscaloosa News

If you go chasing Alabama’s tallest waterfalls, set aside four hours driving time, over 200 miles
The water features few associate with our fair state line up in a crook, being how water rolls and flows.
North above Scottsboro, in Jackson County, you’ll find Neversink Pit Waterfall, which ironically does, into a 162-foot, well, sinkhole. Heading southwest in order, chute down to Desoto Falls (104 feet) and Grace’s High Falls (133 feet) in DeKalb, on to Noccalula Falls (90 feet) in Gadsden, then on to Montevallo, with the closest such to Tuscaloosa, about an hour away, Falling Rock Falls (90 feet), which sounds like a mistranslation, or at least a tautology.
Drinking Man Drinks. Wailing Woman Wails. Shot Dog Hollers.
Maybe not the last one.
Tuscaloosa wouldn’t be as it is today if not for gravity-drawn rushing liquids, pouring down the hard rock Piedmont into sandy gravel from the East Gulf Coastal Plain, following the crescent-shaped fall line that roughly bisects Alabama, from its most northwestern corner, down through us, on north of Montgomery, and continuing east to Ope-don’t-likeya, at least according to a pal who worked a summer there.
Before engineering in the late 19th century, the Black Warrior River wasn’t navigable north of where we are now, due to what was known as the Falls of Tuscaloosa, or Tuscaloosa Falls, which once created a gentle, constant susurration, a whisper, a mist in the air. Settlements sprang up as barges loaded and unloaded, at spots where the river was still fordable, most times of year.
In the damming, we lost our falls.
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More engineers developed Little Yellow River into first Harris Lake, then Lake Nicol, and finally our current reservoir, the 62-billion gallon capacity Lake Tuscaloosa, supplying us with 200 gallons a day. None of them sports what you’d call a proper fall, though I’ve heard you could once stroll down to low-flow whitewater below Harris, but being as that’s probably illegal, nah, I never have.
As would have been many events on the sunny, free, no-parents kinda atmosphere that may have occurred, what with college kids nearby and all that, but of course I wouldn’t know.
So maybe it’s not unusual that for a time I had little idea what TLC’s „Waterfalls“ was about, as it bypassed logic and shot straight to the limbic, as the finest music does.
Deep dive spoiler: TLC’s landmark worldwide No. 1 is chock full of cautionary tales, about avoiding risky behaviors that can lead to permanently damaging effects: drug abuse, sexually transmitted diseases and other not-so-joyful warnings, couched within a deceptively smooth operation driven by R&B grooves, slinky wah-wah, and that slippery bass line by LaMarquis „ReMarqable“ Jefferson, which, by the way, well done on the nicknaming.
Despite its 172 beats per minute, „Waterfalls“ feels languid, buttery, like the lazy kind of summer day when you definitely were not swimming in the Lake Tuscaloosa spillway because that’s illegal, and definitely not churning your young strong shoulders and arms up into and under that ever-pounding rain, which, if I had ever been there, I’d estimate at maybe 10 or 12 feet of falls, though I can’t because I never (note: look up statute of limitations) with a bunch of hoodlum friends.
No, we stuck to the rivers and the lakes we were ‚sposed to.
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Paul McCartney wrote and released a 1980 cut also titled „Waterfalls,“ a spare ballad played on ringy Fender Rhodes, that begins „Don’t go jumping waterfalls/please keep to the lake.“ It features a bit of a warning, too, but then swerves off into typical Paul territory: needing love. And the second verse begins „Don’t go chasing polar bears …“ so you can see why Macca didn’t sue Left-Eye Lopez and crew in 1995. The warning? It would certainly hurt if you go away, leaping into water features, stalking the frozen north, and … jaywalking? Yes, third verse: „Don’t run after motor cars ….“
TLC’s „Waterfalls“ refrain is similar, though clearly not with the same intent:
„Don’t go chasing waterfallsPlease stick to the rivers and the lakes that you’re used toI know that you’re gonna have it your way or nothing at allBut I think you’re moving too fast.“
That bpm count sounds wrong. Bruce’s „Dancing in the Dark“ clocks at 149; his proud „No Surrender“ at 154, „I’m a Rocker“ at 159. Earth Wind and Fire’s „September“ at a mere 126, yet which would you describe as upbeat?
Clearly, the allures are not just about timing, and beats.
Speaking of more than can be logically transcribed, Ryan Coogler’s stunning „Sinners“ is all you’ve heard about and more. Go see it on the biggest possible screen, with the best possible sound.
It’s a down-in-the-dirt musical of sorts, as if „O Brother, Where Art Thou?“ stripped away gags, and churned our the fire this time, rather than the Coen film’s semi-apocalyptic flood.
Instead of Ulyssess Everett McGill facing and fighting sirens, a cyclops and other monsters along his odyssey back to home and hearth, Coogler crafted Smoke and Stack (twins played by Michael B. Jordan) who worked with and probably robbed Al Capone, returning to Mississippi roots to open up a little piece of heaven, a bit of freedom.
They entice young cousin Sammie (a brilliant debut for bourbon-voiced Miles Caton), one of the rare musically blessed, torn between church house and juke joint, into playing their opening … and as it turns out, closing.
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„You keep dancing with the devil… one day he’s gonna follow you home.“ Pastor Jedidiah warns his son. As with all such ominous oracular pronouncements, ignore at your peril.
„Sinners“ is just a letter off from singers. Music channels ineffable power. When we can’t say it, we play it.
With doors swung wide, all sorts come portaling in. Someone’s devil is another system’s spirit.
Be careful what you chase.
Reach Mark Hughes Cobb at mark.cobb@tuscaloosanews.com.

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