In defense of Lucinda (unopposed, again, and for the last time)

This illustrates nothing other than the fact that Sergio is a hilarious idiot. ahaha

The elevation of the urban cowboy as the current hipster aesthetic has bolstered Lucinda Williams‘ popularity and/or tolerance among the masses. Assuredly I will still listen to Lucinda and wear my bolo tie once everyone else has moved on to Detroit box factory chic. Can people from areas with a public school system that ranks above the lowest 30 percentile actually relate to Lucinda Williams? Do you even know what a gravel road is? Loose asphalt is not the same as the gravel road that runs beside the train tracks. One is decaying urbanization and the other is still waiting for the pavement to be poured. Give us a break, the region is still playing catch up after Reconstruction. I’m protective of Texas and the South as a whole. They are akin to my newly immigrated relatives who use their front yard as a winter melon patch. I can criticize their ‘can do’ attitude, but you better not bat an eye. From this, one would assume that I was raised on a chicken farm and my biology degree was honorary and accredited from years of animal husbandry. Like everyone else I am a product of stripmalls and TGIFridays, but the overall chicken farm culture is deep and pervasive. It’s quite possible that I value the outsider quality Texas affords me more than the state itself, but coming from such a strange place you cannot escape its subconscious influence and the ensuing nostalgia.

Place plays an equal role to the heroes of Lucinda’s stories and often acts as an antagonist to the lonely, encumbered suicide victims created within. Her liberal name dropping of East Texas and Louisiana cities is like speeding past these city exits as you attempt to leave Nowwheresville, TX for Swampvalley, LA. Though the themes are American universals, the scenes are so region specific it is difficult to remove it from that context.

My feeble musical mind has always compared Lucinda Williams to Bruce Springsteen. They are linked by their poetic and exacting tales of regional Americana woe. Springsteen’s underdog everyman lyrics combined with his dynamic live performances have a produced a cult of fist-pumping little Stevies. First I rarely employ the fist pump, but for me his tales of abandoned refineries and factories do not elicit the fervor that warrant even a little pump. Such personal portrayals deserve authentic reciprocal appreciation. Unlike the Reagan administration, I understand “Born in the USA” is not an appropriate soundtrack for a national pep rally nor should it be taken as a battle cry by the anti-immigrant contingent, yet somehow I was never able to take on his cause. One of his major causes, the plight of the unionist, seems to be an issue confined mostly to the Northeasterly region, which I am slightly unfamiliar with. Didn’t Sally Field stand on a table somewhere? Perhaps the disconnect is due more to time rather than place, but time is a major determinant of place especially in terms of class and/or immigration .

Just as I am relegated to orienting myself in Springsteen’s town via Academy Award winning movies, I would think non-Southerners would feel lost on Lucinda’s desolate dusty road. Though her depictions may not be as overt as Bruce’s, every detail accentuates the accuracy. Lucinda’s exaggerated drawl only enhances the idea of place. It may be described as a twang or nails on a chalk board, but this heart break warble perfectly compliments and even mimics the pedal steels and dobros essential to her sound with flourishes of Zydeko accordions and Delta blues slide guitars rounding out the musical roadmap of the South. Personally, it conjures up images of my co-worker and her stories of her adopted daughter she literally found wandering the street and the doublewide trailer she shared with her mulleted rockstar husband (seriously, ask Rinita. We both witnessed it together). Unlike the sufferers of the nouveau mullet and the inhabitants of the ironic double-wide trailer parks located off of the “L’ on Bedford, these are real people.

Although Lucinda may have literally and poetic moved from Texas and Louisiana to places such as Ventura and Minneapolis, she will always embody that Southern snake charm from which she originally came.