I almost went to the country Coachella, i.e. Stagecoach.

How did country music become rock and roll?  Oh, they’re bitching about real country being squeezed off the airwaves by this pop sound, but this pop sound is close to what we listened to in the seventies, when acoustic guitars weren’t only for unplugged shows.

How do you determine your favorite album of the year?

If you’re a rock critic, you pick one that will make you look good, properly obscure, anointed by other geeks far from the mainstream like yourself.  You haven’t spun the supposed best that much, but you keep your street cred.  Well, there’s not much cred when you’re home alone, heartbroken.

I’ve decided the best album of the year is the one I played the most.  It’s a personal best.  I may not have heard so much of what you’re into.  But of the stuff I played, what I played most was Little Big Town’s "The Road To Here".

I didn’t know I’d love it.  But one song infatuated me to such a degree that I downloaded the rest.  I was experimenting.  If this experimentation wasn’t free I wouldn’t have taken the leap.  Thank god it is and I did.

First and foremost, an album is a collection of great songs.  It’s when this ceased to be that we gave up and only wanted the single.  Doesn’t matter if there’s thirty minutes of music or ninety, it’s all got to be consistently great.  And "The Road To Here" is.  There’s a panoply of emotions.  Different tracks register on different days.  My favorite constantly changes.  And I was convinced that the final winner was "A Little More You" until just now, when it was eclipsed by "Live With Lonesome".

What could be worse?  Oh, the single say they’re happy, that they’ve got options.  But if you’ve got no one to bounce off of, no one to share your story with, the silence is deafening.  You try to fill it.  With television, newspapers and books.  But none are adequate substitutes for human companionship.

You want to express your anxieties, your fears, as well as share your victories.  But only to someone you trust.  You don’t trust a one night stand.  That’s a conquest, not a relationship.  It’s a notch on your belt, but that notch won’t do much for you when you’re home alone, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.  You look for the light in their eyes, the understanding.  And then displaying your warts, you attempt to merge.  Pick well and your plug fits their socket.  But sometimes the wire frays, there’s a short, and the connection burns out.  And just that fast you’re thrown back into the pool, treading water, just waiting for another attempt at the high dive, for that exhilaration, that thrill.

Hear the train in the distance
Such a lonely sound it makes
When it’s gone there is silence
You can hear the sound of my heart break

The reason these lines resonate is because of the accompaniment, the sound, the music.  The acoustic picking, the fiddle.  It sounds like the prairie, a wide open space, where your thoughts don’t bounce off the walls, but radiate into the distance, maybe never encountering another surface, never mind a human being.  That’s what lonesome is like.  When even if you cry out, there’s no one close enough to hear.

Trains are lonely.  But at least they’re moving.  And they’re thrilling when they pass by, but when they’re gone…there’s that silence, and you’re still in the same place.  With your thoughts, eating you up.  And what’s fascinating is the singer is singing this song not to bring back her old paramour, but to keep herself occupied.  She’s just speaking out loud.  She’s resigned.  It’s over.

See these arms, now they’re empty
‘Cause they used to hold on to you
I said I’d never let go
But somehow you slipped on through
Now I know that’s how love goes
When love goes away

It’s a matter of fact.  She had something, but now it’s gone.  She can’t blame herself for not paying attention, for not trying to make it work.  But sometimes, that’s not enough.  You’re not who they wanted you to be.  If they get too close, they’ve got to pull away.  What was working for you didn’t work for them.  They end it.  All you’re left with is your dedication.  It’s such a fine line.  Kind of like a light bulb.  It’s either off or on.  When it’s lit you can see, you’re emboldened, you feel powerful, you feel in control, you’re upbeat.  But when it goes out, and you’re in the dark…  Where’s the switch?  You can’t see it!  You’ve gone from richness to emptiness just that fast.  They were in your bed, but now it’s too big without them.

I’m gonna cry some
Then I’m gonna lay here and die some
All because I know there ain’t no one else
Baby, if I can’t live with you
Guess I’ll have to
Live with the lonesome

The left believe they’ll never find anyone better.  Some never do.  They give up the dating wars.  Some even take their lives.  Most eventually find someone new.  But that takes a long time.  To find compatibility, to bond.  If you’re not resigned to time alone, you can never connect properly again.  Those who immediately forge new relationships, they can’t stand the loneliness.  They look like they’re lucky, that they’re winners, they just lack your character.  They can’t plumb the depths, it’s just too painful.  Better to be with ANYBODY than nobody.

There’s a prayer that I’m prayin’
There’s a dream that I always will dream
And the hope keeps me waiting
For the day when you come back to me
It’s a curse and a blessing
To find love above all the rest
Now I’d rather have nothing
Than to settle for less
Now I know that’s how love goes
When love goes away

I’m old enough to know that they never come back.  Oh, they might reappear.  You might have a few laughs.  You might touch skin, even have intercourse, but they’ll leave.  Whatever you didn’t provide for them then, you still can’t provide.  If it wasn’t strong enough the first time, it won’t be the second, or the third.  But sometimes the other person’s loneliness draws them back.  Can you be strong enough to keep your distance, to refuse to deliver what they’re looking for?  You think you want it so badly, but it’s not what you really want, it’s a fantasy.

They all look better in the rearview mirror.  But is it really about them, or the lack of loneliness.

Funny how records take on places, where you once listened to them.  There was a moment when the music matched the landscape perfectly, they’ll be forever entwined.  In December I went to Vancouver for a conference.  And at the end of each day, I bundled up in my winter coat, and with my iPod in my pocket, I walked the streets of the town.  I remember slippin’ and a’ slidin’ like some rolling stone on the iced over sidewalks.  I could see my breath, I was alone, but not really.  I had my music, I had Little Big Town.  I was with my friends.

That’s what music is, a friend.  It gets you through the loneliness.

We’re all just looking for something to get us through the loneliness.