Songs Stuck in My Head

For some inexplicable reason, I get this song stuck in my head every day at work. From beginning to end. I sing the whole thing, out loud, at work.



I also get this song stuck in my head, because every day someone says the word Brooklyn, and then I go "I'm standin' in Brooklyn, waiting for something to happen..." and we're off.

Happy Friday!

     It's Friday! How great. Now we can spend the day talking about Community's triumphant return! And 30 Rock, and Up All Night. Go.
     Also, I hope everyone made it safely through the ides of March. Woosh. It can be a tough one.
     And just because I love it, a great song by The Decemberists:

Do ya ever?

     Do ya ever? Do ya ever just? You do, don't you? The biggest dilemma of my day has been  red or white. And I mean the true meaning of dilemma. A dilemma is a choice between equally undesirable alternatives. Red or white? RED or WHITE? Eh, the end result is the same, so what does it really matter? So maybe it's not a true dilemma.
     I drank a little bit of wine tonight and watched the Thursday night line up. And then I rewatched Cougar Town. And it all made me cry. WTF? Really? Me? Crying? Well yes. It turns out, I'm a crier.  It's not my favorite thing about myself, but it's true. And since I'm still a little intoxicated while I write this, you (dear reader) get to be witness to my admittance of it. I'm a crier. It's sort of why by brother nicknamed me crier. He also nicknamed me rolls. He is not creative. He sees something and he goes after it.
     Do you remember Mary's post about The National? Well, it was about a different song, but I've been listening to About Today and it made me think similar things about the universe. All right universe--I'll pay attention. What do you have for me? I really hope it's good. Also, this song is really good.



     I specifically embedded that version because it comes from Warrior. Mary really liked that movie. I haven't seen it, but I take her word for it. I've been listening to it because it was on the Cougar Town playlist I made. Think about that for a second. This song is on both the Warrior and the Cougar Town soundtrack. Mary loves Warrior. I love Cougar Town.

Jammy Jam

     Through a series of music searches, I found the song "Tickle Me Pink" by Johnny Flynn. I like it a whole bunch and have been jamming to it for a few days.



     Another kind of jam I like is an improv jam. In case you're not familiar, an improv jam is a special kind of format of improv where it seems like there's almost no format at all. The general guise is a (long form) montage where anyone can improv with anyone for a set. A set is typically 10 minutes long. When you arrive, you put your name in a bucket. The night starts by pulling 8 names from the bucket. Those 8 people go to the stage and get a suggestion. Then they improv a series of scenes. Boom. That's it. So simple, but so fun. People of all improv levels do it, so it usually all turns out fantastically. Everyone and every idea are supported. And sure, sometimes things fail, but in a good way. Because failing is how you learn. By the end of the night, every name has been drawn from the bucket.
     Another great thing about improv jams is they are often free. So if you're curious about it, just show up and sit in the back and yell out suggestions.

1960s and British

     I have an odd knowledge base about 1960s British pop music. I barely remember what the actual assignment was now, but in 9th grade I did a presentation on the British Invasion. Of course, The Beatles were a part of it, but I delved a little deeper. Everyone knew about The Beatles, so to me, that was less interesting. I was interested in learning more about the rest of it, and the music my parents listened to.
     My parents would have been in high school in 1965, so I was trying to make a connection between my music obsession and what I was hoping was theirs. My dad kept all their old records from that time. He apparently didn't care much for The Beatles--he as used their album covers as a drop-cloth of sorts when painting. I'm guessing my mother bought the albums, and he passive-aggressively drew goatees on them and painted them blue. It's the type of thing they would do.
     I asked my mom, a lot, about going to concerts and whether she understood she was living at a time that would be considered a revolution as far as music was concerned. No, she didn't. She never went to concerts. She had a story about wanting to go see Elvis perform somewhere in Detroit but my dad wouldn't take her because he said Elvis would always be around and it was no different than listening to the record. Sometimes I wonder how I came from these genes. But I digress.
     The odd piece of knowledge that stuck with me throughout this research from this 9th grade project was my mother's favorite band was Herman's Hermits. The fact that she preferred Herman and his hermits to the much more popular Beatles was endearing. She also enjoyed Gary Lewis & The Playboys, but they were not British so it didn't factor into my presentation. However, I often get them mixed up now, and I'm embarrassed by that. All of this brings me to the point that if someone asks me to name a song from the 1960s that's British, I always refer to Herman's Hermits. So, earlier today, a variation of this conversation happened:

Mary: I have a song stuck in my head, but I don't know what it is. I just know it's 1960's and British.
Me: Maybe it's "This Diamond Ring," by Herman's Hermits.
Me: No, wait, that's Gary Lewis & The Playboys
Me: But if it's Herman's Hermits, maybe it's "Mrs. Brown, you've got a lovely daughter."
Mary: JESUS CHRIST, Nancy, it is! 

 The actual conversation was riddled with (my) typos, but that was basically it. Mary was thinking of a 1960s British song, and my mother's love of Herman's Hermits led me to correctly identify the song.
     Also, "This Diamond Ring" and "Mrs. Brown..." are a little similar.





Also, just to tie this up neatly, this was my parents' wedding song:

Blame In On The Rain

     The guys who wrote and performed the song that Milli Vanili lip-synced had it right--we should blame it on the rain.  Everything that could possibly go wrong has one thing at its fault--the rain.  I had frightening dreams last night.  NPR is grating on me like nails across a chalk board.  I may be a little gassy.  It's all the rain's fault.
     I have a wonderful to-do list made out for the day, but all of the things that require going outside will get wet, and therefore are not being done well.  Sure, I need eggs and avocados, but I don't need wet eggs and avocados.
     Sometimes I appreciate a rainy day.  Sometimes it's a great day to stay in and read a book and watch a melancholy movie.  Other times it's just soggy.
    Also, this song is awful.  And the video is terrible.  It'll probably get stuck in your head.  You're welcome. Don't blame me though.

Oscar

     I don't wake up early for Oscar nominations.  It's not that I don't care, it's that it's really early and I'm never nominated!  Also, the Oscars aren't known for recognizing comedies so it's always a little anti-climactic for me. I'm just as happy hearing about the noms hours after they happen, when people are already outraged by them.
    I've mentioned before, probably about a year ago, how stupid I think the original song category is.  I still think this.  This year, only two songs were nominated.  There's an article over on Slate that explains why.  Frankly, I think it makes sense.  I'm tired of crappy songs taking up so much of the attention that should be given to, well, things that aren't as crappy.
    One of the two songs that is nominated though, is from one of my favorite movies of the year.  Am I man, or am I a muppet?  The eternal question. It has a 50% chance of winning--pretty good odds.  Don't eff it up, Oscar voters.

A Bit Serendipitous

I went on a search yesterday for this song:

And instead I found this song:

This morning I read that Etta James had passed. Unfortunately I laughed at the "Etta James is dead, at last" joke.*  I was a little ashamed. But moving on--I found it interesteing that I had actually spent the evening listening to her, unknowingly, in an attempt to find another song. I did end up making an entire playlist of songs titled "Coffee and Cigarettes" or "Cigarettes and Coffee." A few more samples:

I find it interesting that the Jimmy Eat World song references Otis Redding's Greatest Hits, of which one was "Cigarettes & Coffee," that song covered by Etta James.

Then there's this song (the video has an ad at its beginning-skip that shit) by Michelle Featherstone:

 

Those images, of course, from here:


If you haven't, I recommend checking out the film from 2003, Coffee and Cigarettes. Ah, a celebration of vices.

* courtesy of the ImprovAsylum Twitter feed.

Things Robert Burns Gave Us

     Robert Burns gave us two of my favorite things--the song Auld Lang Syne and the Bobby Burns cocktail.  The first thing we was more directly responsible for, since he actually wrote it.  The cocktail was just named after him.  But still.
    You know Auld Lang Syne, right?  We sing it every year on New Year's Eve.  It's a song of remembrance; that's why we sing it on New Year's Eve.  It's also commonly sung at funerals.  Not any funeral I've ever been to, but apparently it's done.  So please, if you can remember, sing Auld Lang Syne at my funeral.
    Also, remember to pour one out for me.  If you have a choice, you should pour out a Bobby Burns.  It's a scotch based cocktail and it's my favorite.  I don't drink it all that often actually.  Many times when I go into a bar and ask for one they look at me crooked.  But it's real and real bars know how to make it.  And it's delicious.
     Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?  NO!  We should remember them all the time!  We'll take a cup-o-kindness yet, for auld lang syne.  And in that cup-o-kindness, we should have scotch based cocktails.  Huzzah!

     And just so you're prepared:

Bobby Burns 

2 ounces blended Scotch whisky
1 ounce Italian vermouth
2 dashes Benedictine
1 dash Angostura or Peychaud’s bitters
Stir all ingredients with ice, and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon peel. 

And, a great version of Auld Lang Syne by BNL:

Get In The Mood

     Since there is only the one Thanksgiving song, and it's been co-opted for Christmas anyway, it seems the best way to get in the holiday spirit is by listening to Christmas Music.  Or, as I like to call it--December Holiday Music.  And yeah, I know it's not December yet, but it's important to make the playlist early so that when it is December, it's ready to go.
     A holiday playlist is just as important as any other playlist.  The order of the songs is important, and with so many artists doing so many different arrangements of the same songs, it takes time and patience to do it right.  Or, you can just throw whatever songs you want on it and hit shuffle because it's all Christmas music and people probably won't really pay that much attention.
      For your consideration, however, I submit the following Sufjan Stevens song:
     It's a good addition to any Holiday mix!

The Playlist: A Love Letter

     Leaving is always bittersweet, and this time was no different.  The last few posts of last week were shorter, even though I had grand ideas for them.  Eventually, they became a tad gut wrenching, so I had to stop.  It turns out there were some pretty great people in DC, and the more I thought about them, the harder it got to say god-bye.  I spent the train ride thinking about it, and I became a cliche--the girl crying on the train, staring out the window, watching the world go by.
     I listened to this song many times:

It felt like the first day of my life. But also, and I realize this isn't what the song meant, I was holding onto hope that if I realized one day I wanted to go home, they would take me back.
     And now it really does feel like the first day of my life.

     I wrote this love letter to my friends.  It's a modern day love letter, so it's not a love letter at all, it's a playlist.  If you're interested, the song list is here.

5 Years Time – Noah And The Whale
This Too Shall Pass – OK Go
Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want – The Smiths
First Day Of My Life – Bright Eyes
No Children – The Mountain Goats
She’s Got You High – Mumm-ra
Swim Until You Can’t See Land – Frightened Rabbit
If I Had A Boat – Lyle Lovett
Hurry Up Let’s Go – Shout Out Louds
Kids – MGMT
Daylight – Matt & Kim
Monday Morning – Death Cab for Cutie
My Beloved Monster – Eels
This Year – The Mountain Goats
Portland, Oregon – Loretta Lynn, Jack White
Joy – Lucinda Williams
Song for Myla Goldberg – The Decemberists
Furr – Blitzen Trapper
Goodbye (This Is Not Goodbye) – Over the Rhine
Two Weeks – Grizzly Bear
You Got Growing Up To Do – Joshua Radin feat. Patty Griffin
Things – Frightened Rabbit
The Cave – Vitamin String Quartet
Moves – The New Pornographers
Coffee And Cigarettes – Jimmy Eat World
Girl in the War – Josh Ritter
Elderly Woman Behind The Counter in a Small Town – Pearl Jam
A Real Hero – College, Electric Youth
Always Love – Nada Surf
Dog Days Are Over – Florence + The Machine
Nothing Matters When We’re Dancing – The Magnetic Fields
King of Carot Flowers, Pt. 1 – Neutral Milk Hotel
Fake Empire – The National
Section 9(Light&Day / Reach For The Sun) – The Polyphonic Spree
I Died So I Could Haunt You – Stars
Mutiny, I Promise You – The New Pornographers
Underwater – Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
Six O’clock News – Kathleen Edwards
Why Do You Let Me Stay Here? – She & Him
Lakes of Pontchartrain – The Be Good Tanyas
Head Full Of Doubt/Road Full Of Promise – The Avett Brothers
Leave Your Boyfriends Behind – Leona Naess
Float On – Modest Mouse
New York, I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down – LCD Soundsystem
Oxford Comma – Vampire Weekend
Take Me Out – Franz Ferdinand
Honey, We Can’t Afford To Look This Cheap – The White Stripes
You Only Live Once – The Strokes
Nobody Move, Nobody Gets Hurt – We Are Scientists
Junk Of The Heart (Happy) – The Kooks
Pyro – Kings of Leon
Say It Ain’t So – Weezer
Drugs Or Me – Jimmy Eat World
Here Comes Your Man – Pixies
All Kinds Of Time – Fountains of Wayne

  I think this Avett Brothers song best sums up the playlist's thesis:
     

I think I've said it before, but it bears repeating: Thank you Friends. I love you all.

Spotify: A Love Affair.

     I made a playlist yesterday, and it's awesome.  I want to share it with everyone, and I can.  Even better, it was a collaborative playlist.  I gave Mary the general theme of New York City and adventure and she added a whole slew of songs that I would have never considered.  And then with the wonderful "related artist" feature on Spotify, I was able to cultivate even more song selections based on her contributions.  And then I spent about four hours putting the songs in order. 
     I was skeptical at Spotify at first, but I've come around.  I have the premium service, and it is indeed premium.  There have been a few songs I haven't been able to find, even though they claim to have any song you could want, but they still have a hell of a lot of songs.  The feature that allows you to synch the songs from your iTunes library to Spotify playlists is amazing.  Of course, I can never ever get rid of Spotify now.  I'll keep it forever.  Forever ever.  Forever ever.
     The sharing aspect of it is what really puts it over the edge as far as music services go.  If I hear a song that I want Mary to hear, I just drop it on her name in my interface.  When she opens Spotify next, it's there.  I was actually online while she was adding songs to my playlist and they showed up immediately.  I opened the app on my phone and bam!, all the songs were there.  This is amazing to me.  We can share music like we were 12 years old sharing records after school, but we're several thousand miles apart.  Music brings people together.

Drive. The Music.

     And the music!  Oh, the music in Drive.  Mary has talked about it a few times, here, and here.  She also talked about the sound design in her review, here.  That may legitimately be the first time I've read read a review where someone talks about the sound design.  And in a positive way where the review wasn't fishing for just one good thing to say.
     The thing about sound design is that usually when it's done well, it's not noticed.  But then sometimes, it's done so well, you notice it because you think "man, I was really drawn in, completely.  The sound must have a direct link to my soul."  That was the case here.  The sounds builds and releases the tension beautifully.  Hear that train?  It's a metaphor for longing and fast getaways, and a throwback to old western bank robbers.  If you were in downtown LA, would you ever actually hear a train?  Probably not (my source says no).  But Driver hears it.  Because he knows.  And we hear it, because it's foreshadowing.  Dun-dun-dun-dun. 
     On its own, the music of Drive doesn't fall into the genre I would typically listen to.  But integrated into the film, it's amazing, beautiful, perfect music, and now I want to listen to it all the time.  It grows on you.  Mary has linked to a few of the songs already, so I won't double link, since I assume you've already read those posts I linked to up there.  The soundtrack is great.  It can be your new driving soundtrack.  You too can be a real human, and a real hero.  

Wake Me Up

     It's September.  I was going to begin by saying I don't usually comment on the passage of time.  And then I thought I had said that before.  I was right.  On December 1st, of last year, I said exactly that: Holy Crap, It's December.  I didn't want to comment on the passage of time.  But then I woke up this morning and stared at the calendar.  And I went searching for that post I knew I wrote.  I thought it was from June perhaps.  But December?  Where did the time go?
     So now I'm commenting on the passage of time.  Of course I can believe in September.  I've been fully conscious this entire time.  I watched as the days went by.  I get how September came to be.  But still, holy crap, can you believe it's already September?
   The kids are going back to school.  I don't have any kids, so this doesn't affect me in any way, but still.  Also, a lot of the schools around here are still closed because of power outages.  Also, not the point.  It's September, the kids are going back to school, football might be starting, and things that taste like pumpkins are everywhere.
     I'm actually very glad it's September.  I like September a lot, even with its 10-pounds of sadness weighing it down.  Because frankly, September does seem a little more serious than the other months.  I think it's because of all the syllables.  And also, this awesome Green Day song:
 

On the other hand- it's only Thursday.  And that's the rub with time passing, isn't it?  How do days and weeks go by so slowly, but then BAM!, all of a sudden it's September and we think we've let it all pass us by.  Wakka-wakka-wakka. 

Death Cab for Cutie in Concert: A Review.

     Listening to The Sound of Settling live is anything but settling.  Death Cab for Cutie has been my favorite band for years, and I was elated to be able to catch them as they came through the District area in support of their new album Codes and Keys.  
     Frightened Rabbit opened the show, and it was great.  I just recently came into Frightened Rabbit, a Scottish band, from Scotland, replete with sexy brogue.  They play wonderful music, and I inebriatedly yelled out that I would have their babies.  We were on the lawn, so they didn't hear me.  I'm pretty sure that was the only thing standing in our way.
     Death Cab wowed the crowd.  They have such a wonderful catalog and when played live, the music gets in your soul.  It was as though the drums and bass traveled through the ground and into my body.  I could feel it.  It was amazing. When I was a kid my dad used to dismiss the idea of concerts saying if he wanted to hear the music, he would just put on the album. He didn't get it.  It's not the same.  There's something transplendent about singing the "bad-da-ba-da-ba-ba"s of Soul Meets Body with 20,000 other people.
     It was unbelievably hot, and Ben Gibbard was feeling it.  He declared it had officially gone from hot to "balls hot."  Indeed, it had.  Still, it was totally worth it. The air was moist, both with humidity and the awesome sweat of a great rock&roll show.

 

For a little taste:

The Mountain Goats: My New Boyfriends.

     I'm late to this party, but at least I can still get in on it.  A co-worker of mine had actually given me Tallahassee a while ago- could be about two years ago by now.  I think I listened once and I forgot about it.  That might have been the biggest music mistake I've ever made.
     I remembered their name; I claimed I knew who they were if it ever came up.  I was exploring Spotify the other day and came across The Mountain Goats again.  I added them to a playlist.  Then I just kept listening to their three songs over and over.  I then expanded and created a Mountain Goats playlist, with all of their albums on it.  I'm in love with this.  How did I let it go by me?  I feel a fool.
     The song that first hooked me was No Children:



Then, This Year:


(There's also a video for that song you can find on YouTube. It's cool. Check it out.)

And then, the rest of their catalog. For bringing all of The Mountain Goats into my life, I am thankful to Spotify, and I suppose begrudgingly, I'm thankful to Drew, who apparently knew me better than I knew myself.

Apparently, Satan's Birthday

     Bonnaroo!  Woo!  I'm attending this year's Bonnaroo festival in Manchester, TN.  This is something I was more likely to do when I was younger, but I decided to let loose, throw caution to the wind, be forever young, and all that other cliche stuff people like me say when we pretend we're not old. 
     Also, that's my way of saying that I won't be able to update Oliver for a few days.  I don't know what the IT department at Bonnaroo is like, but I'm guessing minimal at best. 
     I'm planning to do the whole camping, not showering, tent-sleeping, hippie ordeal.  I'm leaning into it.  I will have a good time, even if every fiber of my Midwestern fear-based upbringing being tries to fight it. Eating hot dogs  and drinking beer for four days is good for me.  I'm sure of it. 
     The title of the post is a reference to a ridiculous article put out by *someone* and posted on a crazy Christian website.  I don't know if it's a parody or not.  I'd link it, but if it is real, I don't want to give it any more credence.  All you need to know is they pointed out Bonnaroo is scheduled on the same day as Satan's birthday (nope, that doesn't make sense) and they have histograms predicting the likelihood of "your daughter doing mouth sex."  You know what, fuck it: the article is here:  Bonnaroo - Happy Birthday Satan!  It's actually pretty damn funny.  As long as nobody takes this shit seriously.
     I'll take some pictures - at least 10, and then they'll be up on the One day, Ten photos blog I participate in when I return.  My weekend starts early, with a 10 hour car trip down to Tennessee.  I hope it's as nice as I've heard. 

Codes and Keys: A Review

     Death Cab for Cutie's new album, Codes and Keys, was released at the end of May.  I downloaded it from Amazon and have been listening to it ever since.  I've been a die hard DCfC fan since I lived in Mulilteo, WA- just 75 miles south of their Bellingham home.  This was the early aughts - '02 to '03.  I didn't see them live while I was there, but I was aware of the buzz.  These guys were going to be the next big thing.  I was already a few years behind on the band wagon.
     If you're already a Death Cab fan, Codes and Keys is ... well, you probably already have it so there's no reason to finish the sentence.  It's a good solid album.  It does what Death Cab does best.
     There were no real surprises on the album.  Although I suspect there isn't much that would surprise me on a Death Cab album, so maybe that's why.  I suppose I mean to say there was nothing jarring and frankly that's good.  I prefer to not be jarred. 
     A few years ago I was working at a desk job; the office mandated Fox News be on constantly, so I protected my brain with earphones.  Plans had just been released and I was listening to it nonstop.  A coworker asked what I was listening to and then scrunched up their face when I told them.  Someone else commented that it was "the death metal all the kids are into."  I was confused and angry.  I looked around my immediate area to see if she was talking to or about someone else.  What was the death metal and who were these kids?  Does she think I'm the kid and does she think I enjoy the death metal?  And does she think that a band with a name like Death Cab for Cutie would be death metal?  "No, no, what?  No, it's not.  It's ... not.  What?"  I offered to let her listen to it, but she said it was devil's music and walked away.  Another one of my coworkers took me up on it and I believe he converted to DCfC fandom.  Never judge a band by its name, right?  But I digress. 
     I do have one complaint about the album.  It's more so about its digital release and the fact that on this release they wrote their name as Death Cab For Cutie, and on previous releases, Death Cab for Cutie.  About half of their releases are one way and half are the other.  It's a subtle difference, but it's enough of one to mess up the listing on my iPod!
     My current favorite song on Codes and Keys is Monday Morning.  I think it's sweet. I tend to use Death Cab songs as real life advice.  So when You Are a Tourist tells me when there's a burning in your heart ... then it's time to go well then, who am I to argue?  They're right.  It's probably time to go.

Lucinda Williams at the 9:30 Club: A Review.

     Mind.  Blowing.  It was my first time at the 9:30 Club in DC; it did not disappoint.  I've seen Lucinda Williams in concert before, and this is the type of venue she prefers to play.  Standing room only, bars line the walls, and a balcony for those of us who like to lean on things.  I was lucky enough to be with a friend who had been there before and knew to get in line early, and then immediately cut left to head up the stairs.  We secured a prime location with full view, front and center of the stage.
     There was an opening act- Dylan LeBlanc.  He was from Louisiana, I think he said Shreveport, Lucinda's home state, and it gave me the feeling that that's why he was there.  A friend of a friend said "hey Lucinda, listen to this kid" and she gave him a break.  I'm sure he's good in his own right, but seriously, how awesome would it be to get to tour with Lucinda Williams?  He played a stripped down set- his best friend and him played their guitars.  It was good.  A decent precursor for the kick-ass show we were all rearing to see.
     I have no idea what time it was when she came out on stage.  Whenever the fuck she felt like, that's what time.  To me, she's the epitome of rock and roll.  She wears leather jackets and biker boots and plays her own instruments.  She keeps a binder with her songs on a music stand next to her.  Why?  Cause she has a lot of songs, and there's a lot of words, and she can do whatever the fuck she wants.
     She opened the show with "I Just Want to See You So Bad,"  and older song from her 1988 release, Lucinda Williams.  It set the tone perfectly.  From there she moved seamlessly through her catalog, going from old to new, up tempo, bringing it down, and then right back up again.  The friends I was with weren't familiar with Lucinda Williams's music, but by the end, they were full on converts.
     When you listen to her CDs, you know the music is good.  Great.  I listen to it for days; it gets inside your head and goes around and around.  But when you see her perform live, you feel the music.  I'm reminded of a saying by another favorite band Over The Rhine: "Quiet Music Should Be Played Loud."  I don't think I would ever classify her music as quiet; there are a few slow, beautiful songs that could be mistaken for quiet songs, but then you're probably not paying attention.  When you see her perform it live, you realize that fucker should be turned up as loud as you can get it.
     For example, the song Unsuffer Me from her 2007 release West.  It's slow and achy, the electric guitar moves along like a train on the tracks, it doesn't shred.  If you're at home, you'd be tempted to put the volume between two and three.  You'd be wrong, and watching it live proves why.  She pierces through you with her razor sharp voice; it fills the room and lingers there, washing over you, seeping into parts of your soul you thought for sure were dead.
     I truly love watching Lucinda Williams in concert.  And I think she really loves putting on concerts.  She loves the music, and not in a conceited away.  She has several songs that have so much breathing room and her band just attacks them.  She stands back, sometimes with her back to the audience, and just watches them play.  She dances to the music and basks in the glow of some of the greatest guitar solos and drum smashes to be produced.  I imagine before she goes on stage she just says "play the fuck out of it, guys."  And that's exactly what they do.
     She didn't do a lot of chit chat with the audience.  She started commenting about the news and how condescending Glen Beck is.  Then she sort of apologized for not having more to talk about.  Nobody minded though.  You could sing the names off the Vietnam War Memorial, Lucinda.  We'd listen.
     She has so many songs, it's impossible for her to play them all.  Though I think I remember being at a concert a few years ago where the house manager (or someone) actually snuck out on stage to tell her she needed to stop.  She told us they were kicking her out, and then played three more songs.  In the short lull between songs, while she's switching guitars, taking a drink, or apparently just shooting the shit with the band, you start calculating what song she could do next.  And no matter what she plays, it's fantastic, and you're blown away.  She could play for 3 more hours and you'd still feel like she just scratched the surface.
     She ended the set with Honey Bee, one my personal favorites off of 2008's Little Honey.  (Claiming favorites with Lucinda songs is a proverbial Sophie's Choice.  It actually means nothing when I say it, because they're all my favorite.)  She rocked the house and the crowd screamed for a few minutes.  Of course there was an encore.  Sometimes I wonder why they leave the stage, but maybe they line up shots, I'm not sure.  For the encore she brought Dylan LeBlanc back out and it was fantastic.  They did three songs, I think, maybe four, and she ran off the stage again.  People started filing out.
     But just when you thought it was over, the crowd was still rowdy enough to bring her back out.  This time, she said a few words about the world.  This is something that is tangible about Lucinda Williams and her music, but I have failed to mention it yet, or in my previous review of her new album.  She clearly stands for something.  And I mean really.  Not just good is good, bad is bad, but she has an honest to goodness point of view about the world, and it's present in every song.  If there was a revolution, she'd be a part of it, and you'd be glad to have her on your side.  I digress.  The band started playing lowly as she was speaking, and if you know music, you could recognize it.  She earnestly thanked us all for coming to the show, for digging deep in our pockets.  She's not known for doing covers, so when she does, it's best to pay attention, because it's going to be awesome.  Stop, hey, what's that sound never sounded so good.   The crowd loved it and belted along.
      She wished us peace, love, and revolution and she was gone.  The house lights came up and everyone started to file out.  There was that bittersweetness from knowing you just saw something great, but that it was over.  My only regret of the evening was that I managed to leave without a T-shirt.  I didn't even mind the walk home in the rain.  In fact, I sort of loved it. 

Lucinda Williams: Blessed. A Review.

     What this album needs is a rainy day and some day-drinking.  Not heavy day-drinking, but a casual beer while you're making a sandwich type day-drinking.   Blessed is Lucinda Williams's most recent album, released on Tuesday.  I'm still not sure I've listened t it enough to give it the review it deserves, but I'll go forward with my first impressions.  Perhaps in a few months, once our relationship has moved past the  beginning stages and we are fully committed, I'll have another view.  But right now, I'm still in the we're-not-coming-out-of-our-room phase.  That phase where friends don't want to be around us because we just stare deeply into each other's eyes.  Yes, Blessed and I are currently staring into each other's eyes.
     I had pre-ordered this album so it would ready for me on the day of its release.  Tuesday's lunch time shenanigans actually yielded the positive result of getting the album a full five hours before I expected to.  I was trepidatious about ripping into the package as soon as I got back to the office like I wanted to, based on the sound the tearing would make and the subsequent squeals of excitement I wouldn't be able to control.  So it had to sit on my desk, taunting me, until those who are sensitive to such sounds had gone home.  I tore open the box and the plastic wrap and plopped in the CD drive on the computer.  Ahh, Lucinda Williams's voice filled my ear buds and all was right with the world.
     Buttercup is a great album opener; it sets the tone.  Lest you ever thought Lucinda was just going to lounge about while you treat her like crap, she tells you otherwise.  Sure, you might be kinda nice to look at, but she's better than you and your sweet-nothing-nicknames.  Good luck finding someone who will let you call her buttercup; you're a dick, and it's a degrading nickname anyway.
     With I Don't Know How You're Living she brings it down a notch.  It's slow and sweet.  One of the greatest aspects of Lucinda's writing is her specificity.  She won't simply say "I've done everything for you, and now we've lost touch."  She tells you what she's done for you, and then notes she doesn't know how you're living.  And it's a bummer, because she wants to know, and when you want her to know too, she'll listen, and she'll do all those things she's done again.
     I fell in love with Copenhagen the first time I heard it, even though I didn't really know what it was about yet.  "I'm fifty-seven but I could be seven years old 'cause I'll never be able to comprehend the expansiveness of what I've just learned."  I was wrapped around this song's finger.  Confusion and longing, and a straight shot to my soul.  This belongs on the soundtrack of my life, accompanying every walk down the street I ever take.
      With Born to be Loved, she is talking to all of us, I think.  We can get pretty down on ourselves, and feel like our lot in life is to just be in the bad place we're in.  Not so, says Lucinda.  It also serves as a reminder that nobody was born to be put upon, or beat up, or just treated badly.  The repetitive lyrics drive home the longing and desperation. 
      Seeing Black kicks it back up, and it's odd to say how much I love this song.  It's not her first song about suicide; it's not even the only suicide song on this album (see Copenhagen).  It's gritty and loud, and fun to sing along with.  I sense a bit of a fuck you for killing yourself in it along with bewilderment and a need to understand.
     Soldier's Song brings it back down again, and it seems like it's going to be obvious, but it's not at all.  It's quite three dimensional, and you vividly see the world being painted with each lyric.
     The titular Blessed is one of those great songs of hers that starts off slow, and then builds.  She reminds us how blessed we are, so we should be paying closer attention.
     Sweet Love is considered a departure, simply because it's a love song.  I disagree, because I think her catalogue is full of love songs.  But I digress.  This song is slow and sweet.  Musically, it's very stripped down- I think I hear a soft snare drum, guitar, and the gentle whine of an accordion.  Lyrically, of course, it's beautiful.  I feel like I'm floating in a gondola when I listen to this song.
     Ugly Truth is probably about a lot of different things.  Fame and fortune, the road there and the impossible road back perhaps, and about not being true to yourself.  You can't hide from the truth. 
     Convince Me is another roller coaster ride.  Indeed, the whole wide world is falling apart.  It starts off slow and smooth and by the end she's ripping guitar licks and smashing up the drums.  She's just begging you to convince her of one damn thing, but you can't really do it can you?
     Awakening.  You know what?  I don't even care exactly what this one is about.  There are so many elements to it; it's mournful and haunting, and as much as I love lyrics, I find myself surrounded by the music so much I realize I wasn't paying attention.  Whoops.
     Kiss Like Your Kiss is another love song.  The imagery is like something out of What Dream May Come.  How she can paint a fully composed picture with words is beyond me.  If you were ever in love like this, it must have been amazing.

With this album, she also released a collection of the same songs, recorded in her kitchen.  It is nothing short of amazing.   I am looking forward to a long and happy relationship with  Blessed.