buckner blogs

while riding the subway last night I felt overwhelmed almost to the point of tears, and it wasn't the subway's fault, or any of its riders. and in the interest of full disclosure, that's the second time this month that the feeling's come.

on the surface it had been a pretty good day (even week - I even received a royalty check for three of the baseball books - thank you, purchasers, for bettering my diet). received lots of music in the mail, including three box sets - The Byrds' There Is A Season, Waylon Jennings: Nashville Rebel, and Fats Waller's If You Got To Ask, You Ain't Got It - but I think even there the receipt was tempered by the realization that it'll probably be a year before I'm able to make it through every cut of even one of the collections. in any case, one positive (or three), like receiving a bunch of music in the mail (I like getting mail; always have), seems to be instantly cancelled out by even the smallest slight. I'm that much on edge.

nothing specific (though I have my suspicions), but certainly the ridiculous workload I've undertaken and extreme tiredness are the primary contributors/culprits.

so maybe it's fitting that I was taking the subway into Manhattan for Richard Buckner's show at the Bowery Ballroom. I've put (figurative) pen to paper about Buckner more than once in the past few weeks after we met for an interview at Lakeside Lounge back in August. and I still probably don't have a good handle (here's my latest stab, courtesy of Riverfront Times).

similar to the overwhelmedness, Buckner's music conjures, at least for me, powerful, though non-specific emotions. and that's pretty hard to put into words. of course, that is my fricking job (or at least one of them).

when Buckner (and former GBV guitarist Doug Gillard) took the stage as the middle of a three-act night (Eric Bachmann of Crooked Fingers headlined, and to me his voice sounds just like early Springsteen), the crowd wasn't nearly what it should be. so I moseyed on up to the middle front (where you will hardly ever find me) and tried to keep my vocal harmonies and air tom-tom playing to a minimum for the folks around me.

I was happy to hear the strong response to "Town," the first cut of Buckner's new Meadow album.

Buckner's a hero to many of my friends back home (and he's headed there soon: dates include Nashville on the 26th, St. Louis on the 27th, Austin on October 1st and Birmingham (at a new bar I've never been to called Bottletree) on October 4th), which is even less surprising after reading Buckner's recent blog entries (worth reading).

it sounds like a lively, though rough, tour (including a cell phone and passport theft) with plenty of road stories. and reminds me of the rather competitive comedic complaining I've participated in with several of those Southern Buckner fans (shout out to Willard and Rodney). soon enough they'll all be happy together (since misery does love its company). and I should probably be down there with 'em.

last book read: The Big Oyster: History on the Half Shell by Mark Kurlansky (recommended)