Could it really, really be?

Oh, you sing of love and longing, the joy and the helplessness of it, better than anyone. That sweet, easy voice--stronger and more primal than actual memory, woven into my childhood mind and heart, even if it was coming out of a tinny Toyota radio.

And then, when I grew up, and loved and longed for "sweet----wonderful you" with "your mood...like a circus wheel, changing all the time" while "waiting for the sun to come up," the words and the tone and the feeling merged and I understood what you were doing more deeply.

These Tusk songs mean more to me than the formative stuff on WLAP when I was a kid, somehow. Maybe because they are (relatively) new discoveries, made in adulthood. And "Songbird" is too unearthly to even hear outside of life events.

Somehow, because I didn't hear her singing these out of the car radio or from vintage vinyl of their perfect, signature album, the songs are mine, to me, for me, from her.

You're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need

Billy was giving me words for a far-away future, only I didn't know it when I was swaying to this over my chemistry textbook with the big curly-corded mid-70s headphones on, feeling every note, but not understanding every word. Like I do now.

Don't know what a slide rule is for

I am more interested in why the little birds are dipping into that trash can outside of the university student center than deep research and outcomes. And hard work.

Maybe this is hard work.

Random Play: There was voodoo in the vibes

This is a fine example of what I like to call wide-lapel sleeze rock: you know, where a quick and sleazy encounter is described in great, brandied detail as a satin-sheeted, smoky assignation accompanied by a guitar riff that'll unzip pants, or by shoulder-baring saxophones, or some silken synths. This unfettered, sexy epoch was short, only 1977-79, but that's, what,

What kind of night? It's when you're asked to loosen up that pretty French gown since we can turn the lights down low and be swayin' to the music  til the night closes in (shout out to Richmond, KY!), because you'd rather be a fool with a broken heart than a liar.

Slow Hand, of course, just cuts to the chase. And when it's over, this guy pushes the hair out of his eyes and goes crazy when he sees you. Just make sure that he doesn't still see your face if he's married someone else.

But it's this guy who'll get you in the end. He's been waiting in the hall.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Back when you walked into the room: