Monday, April 16, 2018

One day I'll be gone

Godammit Jason, I have that god awful Lionel Ritchie song in my head. You asshole.

Last night was the Isbell show.

By now, dear reader, you know that Southeastern has saved my sanity and sobriety, if not my actual life, on more than one occasion.

It was a great show and one that I needed more than I realized.

First up was Richard Thompson - a guy I regret to admit I had never heard of before. A guy I am hoping will be in London in July while I am there.

I love that he knows that Florida, not California, is the Sunshine State. I'm looking at you, Frank Turner.

He's one hell of a song writer and a holy shit balls ungodly guitar player.
I am a fan.

Then there was Isbell.

He is that rare artist that heals me even when I don't realize I have a wound. Like that time I ended up bleeding while restringing my bass. Yeah, that really happened and I had no idea til I saw red stuff dripping onto my bass.

My favorite thing about Isbell live is always the guitar playing. It never comes across in the studio the way it does live. It's like a creamy chocolate mousse that tickles the roof of your mouth.

It was an awesome show. And then Songs That She Sang In The Shower happened. I felt a hand on my back and could feel her eyes. I couldn't look because I knew I would crumble.

It's a song I have lived more times than I can count. It's a song I live everyday. It's a song that has saved me from myself.

It was a sweet show that ended with Jason serenading the two of us like we were the only two people in the venue while we danced.

If I never get sent to Monterey I never end up at that concert last night. I sure as fuck would never move to Florida on my own.

Titty sprinkles!

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