At a wedding in Baltimore this weekend, I ended up in a conversation with one of the other guests about Ray LaMontagne — about how I’d been gifted a vinyl copy of Gossip in the Grain a few years back, and then about how much I love Till the Sun Turns Black.
Wednesday was a good day. Ridiculously good. In rapid succession, I got to hear three amazing new albums, leaving me feel deliriously lucky and frankly a little spoiled. Like Veruca Salt, only without the tantrums and the dangerous drop down a chute designed for golden eggs.
