You see, there�s something about this mellow album that insisted up bringing to mind 70s pop rock, maybe something by the Eagles, something innocuous and timeless that everyone of an age has in his or her record collection, something no one can muster enough interest in to actually hate, but which serves as sufficient background noise for any number of household activities.
I was resenting the Jayhawks just slightly for causing me to doubt.
As usual, Nick Hornby saved me.
Yesterday was cool and rainy, and with the winter storm warning, it seemed wise to stay in the cold, dark apartment, cozy under layers of blankets in bed, reading something good before football distracted me. So I picked up Jenny and the Jaws of Life and got as far as �Melinda Falling,� before the sheer wonder and delight of such finely crafted words brought me to a standstill. And in the background, the Jayhawks. I couldn�t keep going. I was afraid the next story couldn�t be quite so good. Or that it would be even better, making me feel foolish and dirty for my devotion to �Melinda Falling.� And so I picked up Hornby�s Songbook, which was lying on the table next to the bed.
Fortuitously, I launched into his essay called �Led Zeppelin�Heartbreaker,� in which he describes the maturation of his musical taste. How he went from using loudness as a signifier of good music to developing self-confidence in his own taste, in what sort of song pleased him, whether it be punk or rock or folk or country. The very point seemed to be against writing anything off, simply for ignorance or for public opinion. And in the end, who cares if something seems like Old People�s Music, if I adore it and if my mind continues to cling to it and work it out.
Duly chastened, I will tell you I adore the Jayhawks. I just do. Like Wilco, members come and go, but the core stays the same. Their sound changes. There are always songs to which to cling.
I adore Hornby for writing about music in such a meaningful, heartfelt way. For writing something that leaves us nodding our head or even laughing aloud, as if to say, �YES! I, too, have known that feeling!�
I love the way good music and good writing makes me want to paint and cook and even clean the house. It makes me want to throw open the curtains and windows and shout that I am a part of something. And then, waiting up and worrying about Miss P on her drive home from the airport, I caught an episode of Austin City Limits on PBS, featuring the Jayhawks, then Gillian Welch and David Rawlings (don�t tell, but I did briefly wonder who the fantastic lesbian guitarist was, till the camera angle changed and till I recognized DR�s old-timey-sounding guitar). I always wanted to be a musician. Lacking a musical ear and the necessary distance to write about music, I am endlessly grateful for the mountains of marvelous things said and written about it.
It�s been a long winter of my discontent. What�s making you exuberant?