From satellite to self-sacrifice

The satellite radio that came with my new Honda has allowed me to get somewhat back in touch with music that I would otherwise miss since Houston radio options are controlled by corporations run by suits who see music purely as a business rather than an art form. I used to listen to David Dye's World Cafe and discover some good stuff there, but that's no longer carried by our Pacifica Network station, so to hear that today I'd have to drive to Austin and stay up until 1:30 in the morning, or connect online while I'm at work, which is seriously frowned upon by our IT department.

The other day on one of the blues/country/folk satellite stations I've grown fond of (called Lifestyle, which is totally lame but with station names like Verge and Judy, it's not too out of place) I heard an unfamiliar song by a familiar voice. I knew it was Lucinda Williams, and hit the display button until I got to the song's title, Rescue. The hair on my arms stood up as I listened to that song, recognizing every word and feelings behind them, feeling that her words were speaking directly to me. It's one of those songs that comes into your life at one of those times. And the song was followed by another, Are You Alright? And there she was again, singing my heart. I later learned that the songs are from her new album, West, which was released just last week.

Lucinda Williams has a way of turning pain into beauty and since the first time I heard her sing, I've been soothed countless times by that magnificent writing talent of hers, and of course her unique and expressive voice singing them. She refers to the songs on the new album as written at a time in her life when she was dealing with the pain and struggling of losing her mother and also the ending of a romantic relationship, and having to step into her own future. Hello?

I want these songs in my life, want to discover them and know them and have them calm me in the dark hours of now. But I will not buy the CD because for Lent, I gave up shopping. Well, not the necessary shopping such as for groceries, but, you know, the other stuff, shopping for unnecessary things like more clothes or candle holders or make-up, or yet another pair of black shoes. Things I do not need, things driven by want.

If I were to do so, to buy the CD, I'd be dishonoring my commitment of self-denial. And this is but the first opportunity to practice that commitment. And to be honest, as much as I want the CD, the discipline feels good and right. I guess this means that for the next 39 days, I'll be repeatedly listening to the CD's 20-second sound bytes on Amazon. We'll see how the IT guys at the office like that.