The Jayhawks, from Tomorrow the Green Grass. Eighteen years ago, 1994, San Diego, cassette in my ’88 Volvo 240DL. I drove badly, harmonizing all the while to “Over My Shoulder” (below).
I was almost pushing 30. Eager to push my past away from me, over an edge, down some figurative rock and ocotillo-strewn slope in order to forget it.
The Jayhawks, live in LA, 2012, a few days after I saw them at the Belly Up in Solana Beach. Such a good show. After a week of smarting from an old friend’s too-soon, awful death in a hospice cum hotel, Gary Louris (the guy with the red Rickenbacker) was a fine and rousing sight.
I can do the SoCal freeway contra dance. But I can’t sing to save my life. Doesn’t stop me, though. In 1994, and today, and in the years between, I always tried to harmonize properly, with the cassette, with the CD, with the iPod:
I’ve been looking over my shoulder
Would you love me when you’re older
And I really have to say: You don’t, in one way. Otherwise you do. And it is mutual, my rollicking and ebullient old friend.