Forget about veal. Real cruelty involves a relatively sedentary life for 361 days of the year and then 4 days of non-stop dancing. My legs are killing me. The 2008 Finger Lakes Grassroots Festival of Music & Dance wrapped up Sunday night. I can still feel the sunburn and the creekwater. I can still smell the potato pancakes and chicken satay. And I can still hear the music.
Some guy on 89.3 was talking about the ever after the other day. I tuned in as he was berating the younger generation. They never think about the sweet bye and bye, he complained. Their only concern is the sensual, what he termed “the nasty now now.”
It’s not like people haven’t told me. Critics have been raving about Lucinda Williams since I volunteered as a DJ at WCVF in Fredonia, when her self-titled record on the Rough Trade label came out. I still remember holding the LP in my hands, and playing "Crescent City" every other shift. Other than that one song, she was a bit rough around the edges for me back then. Maybe now I have enough rough edges myself, but for some reason, her songs have taken me over during the past couple weeks. I borrowed a friend’s iPod recently and spent a sunny afternoon listening to "Car Wheels on a Gravel Road" and "Essence" at Highland Park and it was one of those times - a stretch of an hour or two when you are just in the thrall, transported.