Saturday, March 26, 2011

New Column: From the Vault

(The blog is going to be changing over the next few weeks (i.e. when I get around to it)  There's going to be more focus on writing, and I'm going to try and bring back some of the music stuff.  Less ranting, less swooning and more essays . . . but don't worry, as long is there is Train, there will be ranting, and as long as Walton Goggins lives and breathes, there will be swooning.

I think I have that same scarf!

I've never really liked Saturdays.  When I was a kid, this meant that I had to go to my dad's, and although I love my Dad more than anyone on the planet, he lived in the middle of nowhere and I was too young to drive anywhere and even if I could, it wasn't like I had any real friends to drive and see.  When I got older, I had to work Saturday nights, and even now, my boyfriend works Saturday nights, so I'm stuck here alone.  Other people, people with social lives and friends and cable have something to do, but I just hang out, write, listen to records and, occasionally, discover something I'd forgotten.

I have a vague recollection of adding Ryan Adams' "My Winding Wheel" to a country mix CD I was making bacj when I was living in Binghamton and obsessively collecting music.  I don't know why I downloaded it or if I ever listened to it, but a few weeks ago I pulled out the country CD and threw it on to try and work by.

I ended up skipping over most of it.  One of these days, I will develop a taste for country music, but despite being born in Oklahoma, it just never caught on.  I like Meryl Haggard and I do a version of Cracker's "Lonesome Johnny Blues" that'll knock your boots off, but for the most part, I tend to skip that station.

There was something about that Saturday that was particuarly lonely.  For some reason, my heart was a rock in the pit of my stomach.  I was missing a phantom piece of myself, something I had no recollection of ever posessing but knew I was sorely lacking.  And when I heard the strains of "My Winding Wheel," something just clicked.  Something felt right

Adams' raw, quaking voice and Springsteen-esq guitars give the song this beautiful, sad, hopeful dispair.  His suggestion that his girl "buy a pretty dress/wear it out tonight/for any boy you think could outdo me" is a challenge, and not necessarily a cruel one.  She has a choice.  He wants her to go with him, but he offers her a chance to go find someone, anyone, who will love her as much as he does, pretty dress and all.  It's a song for lovers separated by time and distance and the folds of life . . . and it's so simple and pure and pretty, and I listen to it over and over and dream.

The only downside is that I discovered it right as I was finishing up the first season of Justified, and for some reason whenever I hear it, I picture Ava.  And you all know how I feel about Ava.

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