There’s a guy named Rodney Crowell. He’s a musician. And if you’ve never heard of him, it’s because he’s a country musician. A real country musician. The type whose heartbreaking, folky lyrics telling stories of love, death, blah, blah, blah, are heartbreaking because of their truth. Also, much of his career has been spent helping to produce, backup and write songs for Emmylou Harris and Lucinda Williams. As in: he’s the genius behind geniuses.
But he does have a solo career as well, and as if the nuanced and haunting stories he tells through music aren’t enough, he’s written a memoir called Chinaberry Sidewalks that’s just as poetic and affecting as his songs. He had a shitty childhood—like, drunk father, poor, religious mother in the south shitty—but he’s optimistic because he’s learned lessons and blah, blah, blah. But the memoir doesn’t feel exploitive, because he’s a really good writer too.
And following his tradition of not asking much else than the opportunity to sing you a song and tell you a story, he’s going to set up with a guitar and read excerpts from his book on the Harbor Steps downtown at noon tomorrow. It’s free. Really, you should really go.
Intern, you have broken the limit on how many times one can write, “blah blah blah” in a quality post. You’re not into country music, we get it, but the post’s tone becomes demeaning to its subject by the second round of “blahs”. Please avoid using of the word “blah” in all future posts.
Paul, please provide your interns with both a dictionary and thesaurus.
I’m with Mrs. J. It’s disrespectful and contrary to the point you’re trying to make.
“Fresh Air” rebroadcast their interview with Rodney Crowell the other day. Usually I turn the radio off when they cover music (there’s only so many show tunes, jazz, and tin pan alley stuff you can suffer in one lifetime), but Crowell was so compelling and interesting that I listened to the whole thing and felt wistful when it was over.
Go hear this amazing man, you lucky stiffs who live in Seattle.