I’m not one of those people good at discovering music.
I want to be. But I’m not.
I collect people that can help me.
First there was Tracey, my best friend in high school. While I was still trying out the Beetles and worrying whether or not they might or might not be on drugs, and if it mattered whether they were or not or whether I listened or not, she introduced me to a whole other world, where the voices of Temptations and Commodores and Four Tops spun out of the record player. Soul music, yeah, that’s what it was. I wondered how she, people, discovered such things.
Then there was Jake, my oldest. Eclectic in tastes, by the time he got to college, I’d half way come around to country and he took me the rest of the way. “Janet (Yeah, he called me that when he wanted me to know he loved me), listen to this…”.
He was the first to introduce me to an all girl Texas band, the Dixie Chicks.
I pretty much liked everything about them. He and I marveled at the virtuosity of those two sisters and Jake having followed them early on, knew it was clear that the new lead singer made them what they were going to be.
Jake hadn’t went to Heaven yet, when the “Incident” happened and I don’t remember him or his brothers ever playing another Chicks song after it did. A lot of people never played another chicks song. A lot of people will never play another chicks song.
So you have to wonder. Was all that wort