Make Love Stay

It's June, the brides are swarming like bees. Picking out gowns, registering at every store imaginable, making lists of love songs for the DJ to spin.

So many songs account the first blush of love, just as many detail the pain of love lost. Same with movies, books, etc. Then there is the rest of us. Common knowledge holds that the honeymoon doesn't last forever. It's up, it's down, it's fireworks, it's an icebox, it's exciting, it's boring, but it is. While most would have us believe that we are either wildly, passionately in the throes of heated romance or dead, there have been thoughtful, touching tributes to trying to make it through. Dan Fogelberg wrote, "Now that we know the fire can burn bright or merely smolder, how do we keep it from dying away?" Jeff Tweedy of Wilco sings that "You're gonna need to be patient with me."

But perhaps the most brutally honest depiction of making love stay was in the 1946 movie called "The Best Years Of Our Lives." Middle-aged Milly is speaking to her husband who has recently come home from WWII, after her 20-something daughter told them that they didn't know what it was like for her, because their lives had been perfect, they'd never had any trouble. First she says to her daughter, "We never had any trouble...." and then she turns to Al, her husband of 25+ years, "How many times have I told you I hated you, and believed it in my heart. How many times have you said you were sick and tired of me, that we were all washed up? How many times have we had to fall in love all over again?" And the look in their eyes reveal every word as truth.

Having once been a starry-eyed bride-to-be myself, I know that looking forward and seeing something less than idyllic just isn't on the agenda. But later, "when the lonely nights are over" and you're wondering "how do we make love stay?" you'll need to be ready to fall in love all over again.

The girl, the cop and the grievous angel

Perhaps fueled by the warm wind through the truck windows whipping my hair asunder, or by the memory of Jeff Tweedy sporting that Nudie Suit on Saturday night, I popped "Gram Parsons Archive, Vol. 1: Live at the Avalon Ballroom 1969" into the CD player again. What a great record. Perfect for a sunset drive.

So I pull up to the stoplight singing, music blaring, and one of St. Louis City's finest pulls up along side. Oh, shit. What did I do now? Seatbelt. Check. Full stop. Check. Anything in the car that shouldn't be? Nope. I'm still singing and I do the sidelong glance. The officer is giving me a wave, but the cherries are not on. I look over and smile, hoping for the best as his shaded gaze met mine. Early 30's, looking like a Marine on leave, he smiles back. "Burrito Brothers..." he nods his approval, "All right!" The light turns, he gives a little salute-like wave and is off.

What the hell was that? Dumbfounded, I hit the accelerator. More, please.

Wilco makes me a happy girl

Wilco made me one happy girl Saturday night. Or maybe it was the Tanq & tonics..... no, well....okay, it was both. Even without those refreshing beverages, Tweedy and company played the best I've ever seen them. Perhaps I was temporarily blinded by a stray reflection off a spangle on Jeff's Nudie suit, perhaps it was still a residual high from Friday's acquisition road trip, but the night was transforming. From Misunderstood through an unexpected encore played after the house lights had already come back up, Wilco just plain rocked. No matter that the band's home base is Chicago, St. Louis fans will always claim Tweedy as their own, so every show has that homecoming audience vibe. The crowd sang and shouted along, the older the song, the more hearty the participation. Oddly, for once I did not come out of the show saying how they didn't play this or I wish they'd played that. Not that every song I wanted to hear was covered, not even close; it just did not occur to me. I was so....... satisfied. That doesn't happen very often, I'm usually just too jaded for joy. It's nice to be a happy girl.

Wilco + Fishman = Happy

Occasionally, long-time real-life friends who read my web musings express concern that I am slipping into depression. Again. The sentiment is not without credence from those who have seen me on the dark side before. It's not that bad, though, really. Some of my therapeutic journaling, songwriting, etc, tends to creep into cyberspace, making for a much more morose picture than is actually being painted. I just can't help writing in a minor key.

Today, however, today I am happy. No, not found-a-new-job happy. No, not bought-the-D-41 happy. But pretty-damn-happy happy. Yes, after selling out two shows that I did not get tickets to, Wilco added a third and Ticketmaster be damned, I have tickets in my hot little hand. We'll end up camping out in the bar for hours to snag the best gen-adm spot, but what else have I got to do on a Saturday in May? I cannot wait. This stands to be the concert highlight of the year for me, especially after listening the the astounding Winter Residency shows from the Riv this year. Wilco has never sounded better.

And now, neither have I. Part two of today's happiness equation is the new Fishman Matrix Infinity acoustic pick-up. Just when I was about to purchase an old Acoustic Matrix II, this turned up at the Winter NAMM show. Oooooh..... yeeeeeesssss. Adjustable tone & volume at the soundhole in an under-saddle pick up without hole cutting. But wait, there's more! It's re-voiced, more balanced string to string, has new switchable voicing and is far less "quacky". Had to wait until stock finally became available, then had it installed in my Sigma Anniversary along with a little neck adjusting and a new saddle, installed a forward strap button after all these years and brought it home for a trial run. It sounds like my guitar. Perfect. Or at least perfect enough. That's not an easy feat, to preserve the tonal qualities of an acoustic guitar when using an under-saddle, or any pick-up, without the aid of a mic. Fishman has done an excellent job of tweaking this thing. Playing through a Fender Acoustisonic amp, the natural qualities of my guitar shine. I like it.

Right now, I'm happy.

Gourds Gone Wild

It's autumn. Gourds are everywhere. I don't buy gourds; they always seem overpriced for a non-food, yet food-like, decorative item. These were shiny and pretty even in the rain. Rain is good, we have not had enough lately, but for cripe's sake, it's my freakin' vacation! Every day, rain. It's like God is trying to tell me to clean my house. Which I did for a while, but I am easily bored and distracted. I found my copy of the Wilco documentary "I am trying to break your heart" while I was cleaning the living room. Hmmmm. Hadn't seen that in a long time. Nothing got done for over two hours, but it sure beats alphabetizing away all the out of place CD's. Now there are more out of place CD's coz I had to pull out AM and Being There, which I'd not revisited in a long time. And how about an Uncle Tupelo for good measure. Yeah, U.T. while the rain beats down on the porch and the room smells like a wet screen door. Maybe rain on vacation is okay, as long as you resist the urge to clean house..... or buy gourds.