a few photos from today

studio update #2

8:03 p.m. - Progress is progress...but it's slow. Or, at least, a bit slower than we'd hoped. Jonathan is (re-)recording the last of his guitar parts. My mandolin parts are finished, and I've taken a stab at the banjo part on "You Do Too," but it's not quite there yet. And I've yet to put electric guitar on the two songs that require it. Lots of foundation to work with, but still lots to do during tomorrow's session. We'll call it a night shortly. All are getting a bit tired.

And it's STILL cold in here!

studio update #1

12:36 p.m. - It is seriously cold in here. We're in a space above Metro Sound on Broad Street, and there has been no heat in the studio all morning. The recording room itself is a little warmer, as it's in the center of the building and better insulated. But Jonathan is the only one in that space right now. The rest of us are in the control room, which has big drafty windows overlooking Broad Street. It's cold enough in here that when I scrunch up my nose, it feels like it takes a couple of seconds for it to shift back into place.

We finally got the heat turned on, but not only are the overhead vents fairly ineffective given the 12-foot ceilings in the control room, it has caused a technical issue: the sound of the air coming out of the vents is being picked up by the microphone and bleeding into the recording. So we have to turn off the heat when we record, then turn it back on in between takes.

With regard to progress on the recording itself, we have the acoustic guitar parts for "St. Josephina" and "You Do Too" so far. But we only have two days to do all the parts for six songs...so we've barely scratched the surface.

recording this weekend

We're in the studio this weekend recording the next Jonathan Vassar and the Speckled Bird EP "The Fire Next Time." I'm hoping to post some thoughts and photos from the studio as we work through the process. Makes me wish I had a laptop instead of typing on my iPhone. But so it goes.

Stay tuned - updates and pics to follow...

the times they are a-changin'

What a day it's been! So many things to be said about the day of Obama's inauguration...but with so many people saying all of those things already, I thought I would offer a relevant but off-the-beaten path story from my mom for your consideration. She told me this story back in November on the evening of Obama's election, and I asked her to write it down for me that week. I've been saving it ever since, waiting for today to post it.

I can’t remember the details of this little anecdote, but the impact has stayed with me all of my life. Manners were elemental to my upbringing in the Deep South of the 1950s, and one of the most heavily emphasized was respect for our elders. I naively took that to mean ALL elders.

One day when I was about 6 or 7, I was at a friend’s house. Her black maid said something to me to which I replied, “Yes, Ma’am”. Well, that’s how you addressed grown-ups, right? Evidently not. I was quickly told by my friend (or maybe her mother, I can’t recall) that “you don’t say Ma’am and Sir to ‘Negras’.” I felt embarrassed and stupid as though I had made some unforgivable social gaff. But I still didn’t understand “why”. That was just the first of many cultural double standards that would not make sense to me. It was the beginning of several years of childhood ambivalence between what society told me was appropriate and what my heart told me was right.

Tuesday morning, as I listened to the TV pundits discuss the likelihood of Barack Obama becoming our next President, it suddenly occurred to me that I had finally been vindicated. I remembered that little moment 50 years ago and knew that I had been right - right to show respect to someone who was different from me, and right to question why someone would have the audacity to tell me I shouldn’t.

next stop: the kennedy center (seriously)

If you don't read anything else in this blog post, read this link: Jonathan Vassar and The Speckled Bird on the Millenium Stage at the Kennedy Center. That would be my friend Jonathan, his wife Antonia, and myself. In two weeks.



I'm not sure how I've managed not to write about all that's been going on lately with this current music project. As I mentioned a few months ago, I've been playing with my friends Antonia and Jonathan Vassar under the name Jonathan Vassar and the Speckled Bird. Jonathan released his EP "The Hours and the Days" on Triple Stamp Records (a local Richmond label) back in September, and we've been busy playing shows through the fall.

The week before Christmas, we had the opportunity to play at the newly-renovated National Theater here in Richmond, opening for another local band, Louisiana Territory. It was a really fun show in a beautiful venue. The photo above is from the show...and if you have a minute, I encourage you to check out the photos of the inside of The National on their website. Really lovely.

As I mentioned earlier (in a not-so-subtle fashion): on Friday, January 16, we're making a trip north to D.C. to play at the Kennedy Center on the Millenium Stage. Each night, the Millenium Stage has a free, hour-long concert from 6:00-7:00 p.m. If you happen to be in D.C. in a couple of weeks, I hope you'll drop by...and please encourage your D.C. friends to do the same.

The following weekend, we're headed into the studio to record an EP that should be released sometime in the spring. More on that as the time draws near. Needless to say, there's a lot to be excited about so far in 2009!


P.S. - Thanks to my sister Leslie for all the photos!

in with the new

Midnight on the East Coast. 2008 is over, 2009 has begun (right on time). Feels about the same as it did half an hour ago...New Year's always seems just a little anti-climactic. Still, happy to be at the start of another year, counting my blessings and thankful to be where I am.

And I'm not saying it's a New Year's resolution or anything, but I will point out that it is Day 1 of 2009, and I am writing blog post #1 of the year. That score may not stay even for long, but it's nice while it lasts.

So, here's to looking forward into the promise of the coming year. Cheers!

the next (same) hurdle

Iliotibial Band Syndrome (ITBS). The "IT Band," as it is often called, is a long strip of tissue-like material that runs down the outside of the upper leg, connecting the hip to the knee. Running causes friction between the band and the femur. Too much activity (along with a number of other contributing factors including length of the IT band, effectiveness of stretching, pronation of the foot, quality of shoes, etc.) can cause inflammation of the band, radiating dull pain to the outside lateral portion of the knee. Symptoms usually begin in the first 2 or 3 miles of a run. The sharpness of the pain increases with continued activity, and inflammation subsides when the activity is stopped. It often takes weeks to heal completely.

ITBS is the thing that kept me from finishing the marathon last Saturday. I first had symptoms back in the spring when I ran the Monument Ave. 10K, and the problem flared up intermittently over the course of the marathon training. But I'd been in the clear since late August...until our 20-mile training run in late October. It's been problematic every since. But I rested it a lot during the 3-week taper leading up to the marathon, determined to run on November 15.

I started to feel it somewhere around Mile 3 of the marathon. It was exactly what I was afraid of. I suspected then that I wouldn't be able to finish, but I stopped and stretched every so often and tried to push on. I had to walk most of Mile 7 - not because I was tired or my muscles sore or my lungs struggling, but because the pain in my knee had begun to stab. I stretched for several minutes at the Mile 8 marker in an attempt to get my IT band to cooperate. It was effective for about a tenth of a mile. Finally, after stopping every 200 feet or so to stretch (and still limping along), I had to give up at the Mile 10 water station and resign myself to the fact that I'd have to tackle 26.2 another day.

I'm headed to see the sports medicine doctor on Tuesday to start rehabilitation. I hope to get back to training as soon as I can, though I'll make sure I'm completely healed first. I will say definitively that I will not let my first marathon attempt be my last.

it's now or...maybe later

The Richmond Marathon starts at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow. I haven't run in 8 days. I've been trying to get my left iliotibial band to heal so my knee will stop aching. Since my 20-mile run three weeks ago, I haven't been able to go more than 3 or 4 miles at a time without my IT band tightening and flaring up. Since this time last week, I've iced it, rested it, stretched it, heated it, iced it some more, taken ibuprofen, more ice, etc. It's better, but I'm not sure it feels 100%. The muscles in my legs are almost twitching with restless energy, ready to run. But if the knee doesn't hold up, it's to no avail.

So, I'm worried. I'm sitting in my study at home staring at the clock on the wall, realizing that, at this very moment, I have exactly 13 hours and 30 minutes until the start gun goes off. I'm just ready to get to it, ready to sink or swim.

And speaking of swimming...that idiomatic cliche may not be too far off the mark. Forget the cool, clear, crisp autumn mornings that we generally see around here in mid-November. Here's the hour-by-hour weather forecast for tomorrow morning:


Pushing 70 degrees in windy thunderstorms. At the very least, it will be exciting. Truth be told, I like running in the rain. It distracts me from everything else, and it makes the whole endeavor more challenging (not that tomorrow needs to be any more challenging).

So I'm hopeful that, with patience, a slow start, a careful pace, good stretching, and a whole lot of grace, I will have completed 26.2 miles by early/mid afternoon tomorrow. And if not, there's always Charlotte next month. In the meantime, it's time to load up on pasta dinner.

adding to the repertoire

I've been working on a lot of new music over the past two or three months. I wish that I wrote faster, that I were more prolific...but, at the very least, I'm learning to work consistently and take progress when and where it comes without feeling too discouraged when I hit a wall for a while. It's difficult sometimes when a song is about two-thirds complete but the last little bit just won't come easily (as is the case for at least three or four pieces right now). Lots of lunch hours spent eating and writing with nothing but a full stomach to show for it in the end.

Still, I'm happy to have emerged with two completed songs so far: "More Familiar" and "Three Days." Moreover, I feel fairly satisfied - at least for now - with the recordings I've done of both. My goal is to finish the handful of other tunes still in progress in order to have enough new material for an EP-length recording.

In the meantime, I've uploaded these first two songs to Reverb Nation. If you give them a listen, I hope you'll let me know your thoughts...positive OR negative (or maybe I should say "constructive").

(N.B. - it takes a few seconds for each song to start after you hit play...)

going for a run and singing a song

How it got from May 15 to July 3, I haven't a clue. All of my promises about being a better blogger have rung hollow and empty. What to do but try to begin again?

I suppose the big news of the previous weeks is that, as of the beginning of June, I am officially in training for the 2008 Richmond Marathon in November. I've been running consistently over the past year, and I was surprised at how much I loved running the Monument Avenue 10K a couple of months ago. Still, 26.2 miles is a LOT farther than the 6.2 miles that make up the 10K. I admit that I'm already a little nervous about it. The funny thing is that running a marathon isn't that big a deal these days. It used to be fairly rare to meet someone who'd run a marathon. These days I feel like half the people I know have run one. The farthest I've ever run at one time is about 6 miles, and while I've done it four or five times, I'm worried about tomorrow's 8-mile jaunt.

In other news, I've been playing some music with my friends Jonathan and Antonia under the name Jonathan Vassar and The Speckled Bird. Definitely a folky, lo-fi Americana feel, very low key. We're playing a bunch of Jonathan's original tunes (he's a prolific and excellent songwriter), so the lineup has Jonathan on guitar and lead vocals, Antonia on accordion, glockenspiel, and vocals, and I'm covering mandolin, banjo, electric guitar, and vocals. It's been a really fun project so far - if you're interested in hearing some rough live recordings, we've posted a bunch on Reverb Nation...and for those of you on MySpace, you can find us there, too: http://www.myspace.com/thespeckledbird.

Hope everyone has a happy and safe 4th of July. Maybe I'll post again before the next major holiday...Labor Day, perhaps? Anyone want to take bets?

shameless family plug

If you have five free minutes (and obviously you do because you're reading this), I strongly encourage you to check out my sister Leslie's newly established blog. Only a few posts on there so far, so it doesn't take long to read the whole thing. But I'd be willing to bet the $3.52 in my pocket that it will be the best five minutes of your day. When we were little kids, I used to torture Les by telling her she was adopted...of course I was kidding, but now I'm not so sure - no one else in my family comes close to being as clever and funny as she is (and she's likely to post a lot more frequently, too).

hi. i used to play your songs in high school.

Way back in the early 1990's, rock music was just beginning to transition out of its big-haired, glam-rock, 1980's childhood into a funkier, groovier, sometimes-angstier adolescence. (Actually, come to think of it - maybe that was ME and not the music. Or maybe both.) One musical era was definitively ending, a new one beginning. The new scope was pretty broad: the heavy grunge of Seattle (Soundgarden, Pearl Jam, Nirvana) to the light, clean "jam band" style of Blues Traveler and Dave Matthews. Nestled in the latter camp, the Spin Doctors released their album Pocket Full Of Kryptonite in August of 1991. I was about to start 9th grade.

People just three or four years younger than I don't remember this album or its creators. But for those who do, you may recall the easily digestible candy-sweet bounce of tunes like "Jimmy Olsen's Blues," "Little Miss Can't Be Wrong," and "Two Princes." I even remember playing some of these songs with high school friends back in the day.

This is all a long way of saying that Chris Barron, lead singer for the Spin Doctors, performed for the Children's Center here at the church a couple of weeks ago. He was in town for a gig and somehow ended up playing this middle-of-the-day thing for the 25 or 30 kids in attendance (all 5 or 6 years old or younger). Really nice guy, very laid back. But I have to admit it was surreal to sit there and watch this now-over-40 front man sing to a group of kids that had no idea who he was. It was interesting to hear the new songs Barron has written - like catching up with a friend you haven't seen in years (maybe decades) and finding out all that they've been up to. But I have to confess: as much as I like the new songs, I couldn't help but get a kick out of hearing live acoustic versions of "Little Miss Can't Be Wrong" and "Two Princes" while sitting in a church building with a couple of dozen little kids at lunchtime. Not an experience I would have anticipated when I was playing these songs at the age of 15.

the long and winding road

In a euphemistic rendition of the old saying that suggests one should take action or move on, my mother cleverly quipped via email that I should "blog or get off the spot." Loud and clear, mother. You may be the last person still checking to see if I've managed to overcome the narcissism of my Edible Estates moment long enough to post something - ANYTHING - new. (A mother's duties are neverending.)

So here I am. Since my last post, the thematic arc of March was one of travel. In the span of just over four weeks, I had the opportunity to visit the Society of St. John the Evangelist (an Episcopal monastery in Cambridge, Mass.) for a weekend retreat, join a mission trip to help repair homes in the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans during the week of my 31st birthday, and backpack across the breathtaking Galiuro Mountains of southeastern Arizona. All incredible experiences, each vastly different from the others.

I owe details about each of these trips - especially the story that unfolded in New Orleans - but the details will have to wait. In the meantime, I did manage to snap a shot of the monastery at SSJE during a morning snowstorm. It really was as beautiful as it appears.

"edible estates" piece

Here is the piece that I wrote for the "Edible Estates" book that I mentioned in my last post.

February 2007. The piece of paper in front of me looked something like this:

Pros - Two flat 14’ x 20’ plots of land; south-facing; full sun all day; I’ll see the garden every day as I walk out my front door.
Cons - Everyone else will see the garden every day as they walk past my front door.

It wasn’t so much a “con” as an uncertainty. An edible front yard would be good stewardship of the little piece of land that I have. Could the “con” of high visibility actually be a “pro”? I swallowed my doubt.

March arrived. I borrowed my neighbor’s tiller, turned my yard into a plot of dirt, and panicked momentarily as I passed the “point of no return.” I laid out a walking path, cultivated beds, put in herb borders, and planted seeds.

At the very least, the resulting garden is a talking point. It piques curiosity. I’ve met more folks in the neighborhood in the last four months than I have in five years. Some ask questions. “What’s that plant?” “Are squash and zucchini hard to grow?” Most offer words of encouragement. “I love walking by every day and seeing the progress.” “I really believe in what you’re doing.” “Looks fantastic - keep up the good work!”

In truth, I’m an amateur. Last year was my first attempt at growing vegetables. It started as a pastime, a fun novelty: vegetables to which I could lay claim from my own ground. In short time, it has raised my awareness of the origins of what I eat, made me more intentional about choosing food. More than that, though, I feel intimately connected with the Earth. Watching a seed emerge from its burial to grow into a plant larger than my arms’ reach - and being an active participant in this natural cycle - has evolved into a tangible expression of faith in the natural order of things. That it produces the same fruitful results over and over again, year after year, is nothing short of miraculous. That I can share this with others in my own front yard is icing on the cake.

a few words in writing

Throughout 2007, one of the more frequent topics of discussion on this blog was the transition of my front lawn from a perennial weed-scape to a more productive edible landscape, inspired largely by architect and designer Fritz Haeg. My March 3 post from last year provides a more robust explanation of the philosophy behind the movement to use one's yard in a more environmentally friendly, less destructive manner. After an article about my yard and my friend Antonia's yard ran in the Richmond Times-Dispatch last summer, I got an email from Fritz Haeg himself (!) telling me that the author of the newspaper article had emailed the story to him. He asked if I would be willing to submit "before and after" photos of my yard and a 300-word essay for inclusion in an upcoming book about his Edible Estates project. Shortly after the Fourth of July, I sent my essay and photos. I had almost forgotten about it until a couple of weeks ago. The book, called "Edible Estates: Attack on the Front Lawn", was released earlier this month, and I was fortunate enough to have my essay and photos included in the book. So...I'm published! And while it's not a huge deal (it is, after all, only a one-page essay in a garden book), I'm pretty proud of it and excited about it. I hope to post the essay in its entirety later this week.

"to whom much has been given..."

OK, this might be a little heavy to start the new year, but so be it. Below is an article I've just finished writing for the newsletter at the church. I say that to provide some context for the piece, though I think the moral obligation for the responsible use of wealth need not be confined to discussions within religious circles. Anyway, I hope you'll take the time to read it and let me know if you have any thoughts in response:

I'm really no good at New Year's resolutions. Inevitably, I begin the year with a vow to make some definitive changes in my habits: eating better, exercising more, praying with more intention and regularity. And inevitably, I'm right back to where I started by February. So, I didn't make any concrete resolutions this January, but I did have a meaningful conversation in the first hours of the year that has continued to nag at me and cause me to take spiritual inventory of my own place in
God's world.

I spent the New Year's holiday in Dallas visiting with four of my college friends and their spouses. We try to make it a point to get together each year around this time to catch up with one another. In the wee hours of January 1, after the midnight celebrations had died down and most of the group had gone to sleep, I found myself sitting at the kitchen table deep in conversation with two of my friends. Both of these men are incredibly successful by society's standards. They are well-educated and well-spoken, have excelled through the ranks of their respective businesses, and have achieved financial status that few our age enjoy. And, to be frank, most of our conversational topics over the course of the weekend reflected the comfort of this lifestyle: business dealings, finances, new houses, investments, etc. But in this late-night conversation that shifted first to politics and then to issues of faith and social justice, all of the pretense of those prior conversations fell away. One of my friends confessed that he lies awake many nights wondering if he does enough with all the blessings he has received. We talked about the difficulty of knowing where to draw the line between providing for the needs of ourselves and our families and the slippery temptation to indulge extravagantly in our wants. We debated what it is, exactly, that we are called to do in the passage from Luke's Gospel that reads, “From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from the one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded” (Luke 12:48).

It is a conversation that has stuck with me over the past few weeks, raising as many questions as it answers. There's no way around it: much has been given to each of us. For the most part, we are blessed with good homes, good families, good educations, good jobs...and it is clear that God is calling us to use these blessings responsively and responsibly. We just have to figure out how best to do that.

So I have only one resolution this year. It comes in the form of a question, and I'm certain it will require continuous reassessment and attention in the months ahead: am I giving of myself all that God is asking me to give, and if not, where is there room for me to improve? I realize that it is a very basic question, one that should be obvious and ever-present for us as Christians. But the truth -- at least, for me -- is that often my day-to-day activity is not rooted in answering that question. I lose sight of it in the busyness around me and the relative comfort that I enjoy. Regardless of the form in which the answer comes, I am reminded of our stewardship prayer that begins, "Disturb us, O Lord, when we are too well pleased with ourselves," as I pray that each of us will be given the grace and wisdom to seek (and find) the ways in which God is calling us to be his heart and hands in the world around us in 2008.

putting it out there

For a while now, I've entertained this vision of finishing and recording at least a few of the dozen or so song fragments that I've begun writing since the demise of RingsEnd in May of 2003. Four and a half years later, I haven't made all that much progress. The number of fragments increases faster than the completed songs. Still, I have managed enough discipline to birth four or five fully-formed tunes with another half-dozen nearing the end of their creative gestation (talk about a long labor).

Anyway, in my original grand master plan, I envisioned myself finishing all of these songs, recording them with exquisitely eclectic arrangements (professional sound quality, of course), and releasing them as a solo album all at once. Needless to say, that hasn't happened. And since I have no idea when that will happen, I've decided to quit being so picky about it. I can polish them later with some studio time: for now, I just want to complete what I've started and get some ideas out there.

To that end, I've uploaded four songs to a site called virb.com. Of the four songs, two are new-ish (written within the past year) and two are a little older. Two are recorded with a little more polish and two are very rough guitar/vocal demos. For a slightly better description, here is the paragraph that I included on my virb page:

The songs on this page are like a bunch of teenagers, all in various stages of development: some of them are young, brand new, a little rough around the edges, barely conscious; others are a little more mature, been around a while...slightly more polished, with just a glimmer of what they potentially (God willing) might become. But none of them have reached "adulthood" yet. I don't like to share parts of songs while I'm writing them - a verse here, a chorus there - but each of these is finished to the degree that it is complete. (N.B. - Don't equate "complete" with any assessment of quality.) And while I suspect there may still be musical or lyrical changes to each at some point in the future, I feel as if maybe it's time to throw them out there while they're still coming of age.

If you want to give it a listen - and I hope you will - here's the site:
http://www.virb.com/chrisedwards

P.S. - As a total aside, I just want to state publicly that this blog is lame. I know. It used to sit untouched for days, and now it often goes weeks at a time without a single new word. And I know you're tired of my empty promises to do better...but...maybe in 2008??

outta the way, here comes W.

I am currently sitting in the Richmond airport waiting to board a plane that should have left twenty minutes ago. Travel delays typical of Thanksgiving week, perhaps? Nope. The airport is on lockdown. Looking out the window as I typed the last sentence, I watched Air Force One cruise by on the tarmac with El Presidente aboard. He apparently has decided that Thanksgiving week would be an excellent time to make a quick little jaunt down to Charles City County to visit Berkeley Plantation. Thank the good Lord W. will be on hand to "talk about what we as a nation can be thankful for during Thanksgiving," as one White House spokesman put it. I'll tell you what I WAS thankful for an hour ago, Dubbs: flying on Monday of Thanksgiving week in an attempt to get home in a timely fashion and avoid delays later in the week. Instead, I'm now sitting in a crowd of people who are thrilled - no, really, just THRILLED - that your arrival has meant the delay of thousands of passengers during the busiest travel week of the year, since no one in the airport can move a muscle or look sideways or sneeze while your plane is on the ground.

And now, there goes the Presidential motorcade. Tax dollars hard at work. Anyway, don't mind us - you go enjoy Berkeley Plantation. Take your time. We'll just wait here.

now hear this...

Resting on my blogging laurels again...for a whole month (plus) this time. Whoops.

I seem to remember expressing an intention to post thoughts on a variety of topics a while back. Obviously I have some catching up to do. To begin, a few bits of compelling music that have been using using up my mental bandwidth lately. It’s worth noting that memorable songs tend to pop up with some frequency. But in last few months I’ve come across several albums - both intentionally and by chance - that have lodged themselves in my psyche. I don’t intend for the thoughts below to be comprehensive reviews, rather a collection of impressions about each of these particular albums and artists.

Surprise - Paul Simon
The title couldn’t be more apt. The conversational patter of lyrics and complex intrumental layering are quintessential Paul Simon, as are the unexpected rhythmical accents and shifts that have been keystone’s of his music since “Graceland” and “Rhythm of the Saints.” But this album is...different. First of all, it’s produced by Brian Eno, who is best known for his extensive production work with U2. Eno tends to use a lot of electronica and unexpected sounds to create sonic landscapes. It doesn’t sound like something that would work with Paul Simon’s style at all. But somehow, it does. It’s similar to the way the songs on David Gray’s “White Ladder” mesh perfectly with the electronic undercurrents on that record. But here, it’s more interesting, more in the forefront, more a defining piece of each of the songs without getting in the way of the musical textures and lyrics. For example: in “Everything About It Is a Love Song,” the first verse begins with a loping, syncopated feel. But halfway through the verse, the electronic rhythm pattern kicks in, and suddenly the song has a straight-ahead double-time feel. An unexpected "surprise." Good stuff. One of my favorite lyrical lines comes in that same tune:

A tear drop consists of
electrolytes and salt -
the chemistry of crying
is not concerned with blame or fault

Other album highlights: “How Can You Live in the Northeast?”; “Outrageous”; “Wartime Prayers”.

Emotionalism - The Avett Brothers
Each Avett Brothers album seems better than the one that preceeded it. Without a doubt, there are some real gems on Live Vol. 2, Mignonette, and Four Thieves Gone. But if one looks at the Avett Brothers’ work through the lens of their previous albums, Emotionalism represents a vision coming into focus. The sound is still raw and heart-felt (you never doubt that they mean every word they sing...or scream), but the playing here is just better, the singing is tighter, and the songs are well-crafted and downright catchy. Their melodic lines are the best they’ve ever been, and the album has a consistent feel throughout. I find myself picking through songs on the Avetts’ earlier albums. Definitely not the case here: I love this album as a coherent whole. I love it for its musical and lyrical honesty. I love its inherent melodrama (it IS called “Emotionalism,” after all) and the fact that it somehow manages to feel exposed and vulnerable rather than contrived. In short, I think it's pretty brilliant.
Album highlights: “Die, Die, Die”; “The Weight of Lies”; “Pretty Girl From San Diego”.

Kismet - Jesca Hoop
I came across this album by accident, and now I can’t even remember how. Was it an Amazon.com recommendation? An iTunes highlight? Did I read about it while searching for info on another artist? I honestly can’t remember. But I’m glad I found it. Jesca Hoop grew up Mormon in Northern California, broke away from her family tradition, and lived in the Wyoming wilderness before coming back to California and working as a nanny for Tom Waits’ kids. Seriously, I couldn’t make this stuff up. Kismet is a quirky album. There are several different styles and genres going on here, all of which make sense when you read Jesca’s myriad musical influences. In the first few seconds of “Summertime” (the first track), one has the sense that this might be another cheesy pop album. And then, something happens. I’m not sure what. It builds. There’s a hint of opening and widening. She sings variations on the syllable “la” in a way that, for me at least, conjures images of running and African grasslands. I have no idea why. And just as I begin to get used to the feel, to come to terms with it, there’s a totally unexpected chordal shift. Abrupt without sounding ridiculous. The whole album is inexplicable like that. Songs morph from one genre to the next, but they’re all connected by an intricacy that is perpetually unexpected and refreshing. Interestingly, the best song on the album is the last. The first time I heard “Love and Love Again,” I said out loud (to no one) at the end of the song, “Oh my God, that’s really good.” And I went back to the beginning of the song. Three times. The melody line is so well written it sounds as if it would be right at home as a musical theater ballad. In fact, it conjures the same sensation that one gets when watching a play, the sensation that the too-perfect backdrop and too-convenient love story and too-perfect timing just might be real in some parallel universe. And this is the theme song for that parallel universe.
Album highlights: “Enemy”; “Love Is All We Have”; “Havoc In Heaven”; “Love and Love Again”