If you’ve been reading this here blog for a minute, you know I’m a big fan of the work done by the folks at Overcoast — especially their collaborations with Virginia Tourism. I loved the videos they made with Mighty Joshua and Dharma Bombs, and I’m transfixed this clip featuring singer Sherman Holmes, formerly of the Holmes Brothers Band.
Just vocals and guitar, the tune (I couldn’t find a title — maybe you know what it’s called, dear reader?) unfolds deliberately. In concert with the immeasurable depth of Holmes’ voice, the pacing leaves you hanging on each word, and it provides space for you to envision the details the lyrics describe, like the intricate scene painted in the second verse:
A gilded frame and your picture
A covered lane and your rapture
A crowded room and your laughter
A band of gold on your finger
It’s amazing how a collection of objects — a lyrical still-life — can convey such an affecting sense of time.
If you enjoy the clip, be sure to check out Holmes’ 2017 album The Richmond Sessions, which was recorded at Montrose Studios with the help of an outstanding collection of collaborators, including dobro legend Rob Ickes, Devonne Harris of Butcher Brown, and storied Richmond gospel ensemble the Ingramettes.
Happy 4th of July? I’ll probably say that handful of times today, but this one doesn’t feel so happy. It’s hard to dial the patriotism up to 11 when your country is doing this, and your president is celebrating like this.
I put Carl Broemel’s beautiful and largely subdued 4th of July album on the turntable this morning, thinking that spinning it meant marking the occasion with an appropriate level of exuberance. The cover art certainly hits the mark, with damp coloring and a Statue Of Liberty that registers as distant and off-balance. Still, I didn’t expect to find lyrics that spoke so directly to the current political moment:
So many people are awake in the city
I see ’em walking up and down the road
Think eventually they will be sleeping
Try to find a quiet place to go
But there’s a limited number of spaces
With comfy mattresses and soft pillows
Whether your bed is just a spot on the pavement
Or an apartment on the eighty-fifth floor
You’re gonna end everyday of your life
Lying there in the dark
I’ve always thought “In the Dark” was a very pretty song about insomnia and/or death and/or the way solipsism actually unites us in a weird way. Now it feels like a meditation on conscience — the idea that at the end of the day, and at the end of our lives, we all have to reckon with what we’ve done to that point. Maybe that’s a good way to “celebrate” this year’s Independence Day.
(Might I also suggest streaming Fiona Apple’s “Criminal” a few times, or directly supporting the organization to which Apple has pledged two years of “Criminal” royalties?)