This past year, I've welcomed Emmylou Harris into my life. I've welcomed a lot of new music to my life thanks to the influence of wise friends.
The biggest change has been adding country to the mix. I fought and fought it for so long, making concessions only for Patsy Cline and Willie Nelson. Neko Case came along and shook up my world. Then Randy Travis was thrown in the mix and the floodgates were opened.
While everyone is entitled to their musical opinions and preferences, no one can deny that there is a point in your life when lyrics suddenly mean something. It's a pivotal rite of passage- like when you realize your parents' music is actually really great. Country, more than any other genre with exception to the blues, captures the emotion of the human condition through its lyrics.
Brooklyn has brought a musical awakening to my musical coma of my stale, tired favorites. I resisted the indie scene as long as I could, but inadvertently fell in love with it (probably through osmosis- hey, I live in Williamsburg). The free summer concerts in Prospect and Central Parks have added to my repertoire, along with all the crazy punks I've worked with the past few years who have insisted that I listen to that amazing song or playlist. Now that country's in the picture, I know I'll never be the same.
It is only after seeing Neko and Emmylou on stage (at the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival in San Francisco) that I fully realized the truth. Underneath it all I am just a simple cowgirl, tripping over my heart, but following it nonetheless.
Now as I sip my coffee and savor the morning, Emmylou croons, while beautiful baby Liliana sleeps in the next room. And maybe, just maybe, she will grow up to be a cowgirl, heeding Emmylou's advice to follow her heart, too.
Old School Emmylou