Kind of freaky as I was listening to this album as his email landed.
I sometimes wonder if he has a one way Skype thing going on...
She lives on the same street as the likes of Mary Chapin Carpenter and Shawn Colvin; it sounds mainstream but there is a keenness to the narratives; an underlying tenderness to the domestic dramas that is strangely compelling; it's like being lectured and lullabied by a motherly matron with an MA in 'Maudlin' and a penchant for chocolate and Cheever.
Try 'Breakfast At Our House' which for some reason was left off 'Circus Girl'.
They're in the front seat, he's got the radio low
And the moon hangs over Idlewild as the planes touch down
He is talking but she's not listening
She is thinking of her father, who died when she was young
I'm in the back seat, they think I'm sleeping
But I am listening for the cracks between their voices in the dark
We are a family, we are a shipwreck
And we're picking up my grandma who is getting very old
And they think she's dying
But I think she's laughing
I think she's riding Halley's Comet from Fort Lauderdale to here
But when I see her
I'll keep her secret
We all have our secrets that we keep inside ourselves
They built this airport but in a few years
They'll name it after Kennedy, the one who died today
And he will leave her, and she will suffer
And they will never really know each other at all
They think we're driving
But I know we're drifting
They think we're off on some adventure where the hero saves the day
We think we're special
We think we're golden
We think we're walking on the moon but we are dancing in the dark
We shoot our rockets, we shoot our presidents
We shoot the commies and the niggers and the Vietcong
Everything changes, everything stays the same
And the moon hangs over Idlewild as the planes touch down,