Well there it was, September. It was already gettin’ chilly, it was raining, like it’s known to do occasionally up here in Maine, the landscape was quickly emptying out, and I got a call from my first love. We hadn’t spoken in some time.
How are you?” he said warmly.
“Fine.” I said, my own heart warming.
“I’ve fallen in love.” said he.
“That’s great. I’m so happy for you. Ummm …. I’ve gotta go,” I puked out, panicking, shaking and trying to sound chipper, “because I’ve got ummm …. stuff …. and ….uh ….yup.” Click.
Oof. Tears. Ouch. Pit of stomach feeling. Misery …. as in a good couple of day’s worth, and feeling like it was gonna be a long haul’s worth.
Enter Mike, who, seeing me with my head hanging down, slouched over my dinner, presented me with I Guess I Would, a seven-song album of assorted country covers from Acetone. On this, their second full-length LP, the band leaves behind the grinding guitars and distortion that marked a significant portion of their debut album, taking with them their sense for the subtle, sparse and dreamy melody, along with a choice collection of old dusty vinyl. The result is a modest album of drowsy, lo-fi, airy country gems by country greats such as Gram Parsons, John Prine, and Kris Kristofferson.
Of course, none of this mattered to me at that point. All I knew was that I was hurtin’, and that this was music about lost love, longing hearts, and open lonely roads — a wallower in self-pity’s dream.
After a couple of listens, my scene hadn’t changed much, except the lights were dimmer, and the dinner in front of me was a few beers …. and, well, a few more beers. I sat and stared blankly for a few more days. “Sometimes You Just Can’t Win”, guitarist Richie Lee and songwriter Smokey Stover kept reminding me as I listened to the album again and again. And sometimes, I finally decided, you gotta go for a drive and think about your pain some more.
I hopped in my car and went. During the drive, I arrived at a couple conclusions: 1) I definitely wasn’t winning, and 2) The album’s spare instrumentation and production (through which you can almost hear and feel the breeze blowing from that open highway), coupled with Lee’s delicate vocals that float along with the lazy melodies, resting the words gently on your ears, make it a choice album to play to the hush of the road at the dusk light hour.
Ahhh, those heartfelt vocals. Lee sounds as if he could very well be my brother, circa 19, singing with heartbreaking honesty into his old Panasonic cassette recorder for an old flame. Or Will Oldham, singing in a big open theater, backed by Bedhead.
At the end of the long day, I Guess I Would simply sounds like Mom, or, okay, even that first love, rubbing your back after a nightmare, or a shitty day, rocking you with the gentle sweep of its timeless melodies, hearing your pain, and sighing right along with you. Which comes in handy when you’re in Maine, and your mom’s in Chicago, and that other character is probably busy rubbing someone else’s back.