Austin Lucas Review...

Wow, it’s been a long time since an album grew on my like Austin Lucas’ Somebody Loves You…and I think I know why. See, I’m usually a southern drawl/scruffy voice folk guy; I like Chuck Ragan, Tim Barry, Sundowner, etc. Lucas’ approach is so traditional that it’s off-putting at first. But then something struck me as I made my way through the record for the third or fourth time; Lucas represents the first artist that I would have loved to let my Grandfather hear. It was a bit of a downer to realize this because he passed away this past autumn, but I am certain that he would have loved this record. He liked old country music, but he also loved Appalachian style folk music with clear, powerful vocals and minimal accompaniment beyond an acoustic guitar. Lucas fits this description perfectly.

The talent that Lucas displays here is electric. While the songwriting and arrangements are dead on, the vocals and lyrics are what seal the deal for me. Lucas’ voice is so delicate and powerful at the same time; I just don’t think I’ve ever heard anything like it. His storytelling skills are employed perfectly on the track “Singing Man,” which tells of a lowly musician attempting to court someone much higher up on the social ladder. And then there are all the sings about heartbreak, but with an ear towards moving forward, not wallowing. “Go West” puts the idea of parting ways with someone in such an understanding and romantic light while still portraying the pain that accompanies any type of meaningful goodbye.

This record, which was recorded by Lucas’ father at the family home in Indiana, rings of truth and a personal touch that works its way right into the center of your heart. Whether he’s pickin’ and yelpin’ through the hurried pace of album closer “Farewell,” or crafting a beautiful atmosphere like the one found in “She Said,” Lucas seems to be able to do no wrong. I don’t give out a five star rating without some serious consideration, but this record has shaken me. I didn’t react to it immediately; it took time and some of my own personal feelings for my true impression to surface. The only thing I wish is that I could have put this on while Gramp and I cracked a few beers.

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the Chicago trip was pretty great. a lot of time to just unwind, visit friends, drink and introduce everyone to heather. i'll post some pictures we took when i have the time. being back, on the other hand, sucks. grad school started last week and it's insane. so much reading and then little projects that remind me of the busy work your teaching aides would give you in undergrad when they were hungover...ugh. ohh! and i got my mac, who has affectionately been dubbed "macattack" by someone with much more creativity then myself. so far, it's friggin' crazy cool, but i gotta get used to it.

i'm applying for a few library positions in Chicago that an old friend pointed out and one of them is at the DePaul University Rinn Law Library, where i used to work! seriously thinking about moving back there now that school has started and it's a distance learning thing that i don't need to be at campus for. if i could get a job out there in my field (like i have here) and go to school and work on the website...i think that would be awesome. and heather's gonna come...friggin' sweet!

alright, back to work...in every sense of the word.

moving and such

so, the move is basically complete! my brother and i are now the proud owners of a two floor, three bedroom apartment in Wilmington, DE, right around 7th and Bancroft. he wets the bed and tends to run around naked, but we'll take care of all of that with sound parenting and an eye for detail. the good part is that we are mere blocks from the Blue Parrot and Dead Presidents, two of the least pretentious bars in all of Wilmington. the bad part is, well...moving fucking sucks. we sat outside for thirty minutes today trying to figure out how to fit our reclining couch through the obviously too small doorway. we eventually discovered that if you unscrew two very specific (and totally unassuming) plastic parts buried amongst all of the normal looking hardware, the backs came off...hurray for couch engineering and our ability to decipher it.

i made a partially disastrous dinner for Heather last night...did anyone else know that Morning Star meat crumbles burned if you grilled them?!?! cause i didn't :o( times like last night make me miss my digital camera because i would have loved to have captured a portrait of my poor, charred veggie patties in all of their abysmal glory. at least the spicy potatoes and the spaghetti squash were good. ohh!! i almost forgot!! Mom met Heather, and she was downright delightful and adorable. we had a delicious dinner at Dome in Hockessin, DE where we ordered a bottle of the Chehalem i mentioned in one of my previous posts. it was a wonderful evening that finally united two of the more important women in my life (one has been around for a pretty long time and the other is still fairly new). all in all, i just can't imagine a scenario in which the fooding session could have gone any better, given the excellent quality of the company, the food, and the wine (and the dark and stormy i had when we first got there; god i miss that drink, it reminds me of Brent).

i'm at work and almost completely unmotivated...this is due to the stress of moving, not work; i actually look forward to coming into the wine store each and every time i am here, but tonight i'm just not in it. i need some drinks and some time to relax. ahh, i need to get back to work...i get my Blackberry Storm tomorrow!! i'll leave you with a poem, one which is actually new...well, written within the last few months. there is definitely a Naruda-esque nature to it, especially his Book of Questions. Enjoy!

Measure Me

Forensics and numbers offer nothing but the awkward realization that there are things we will never be able to measure: the air behind eyelids, the surface area of a cloud, the height of an imaginary friend.

I dream in short bursts, legs kicking and tongue wagging at the thoughts that bounce through the deepest parts of my evening – simply put, it’s violent, and equations and microscopes are poor tools.

How do you measure the surprise of a tourist; the hospitality of a southerner; the life of a candle?

In the angle of photographs?
In whispered thank yous?
In heartbeats?

I wish we knew how to measure the pause of a comma, cause I hate getting it wrong.
I wish we knew how to measure importance, cause we’d get more done.
Even words are often too thin for the feel of blood, electricity, and bone.