I got most of the music that I love on a USB flash drive inside of a bubble mailer via USPS from Michigan to Ohio from my cousin Rob. I think this is how I got exposed to The Tallest Man on Earth in middle school or early high school. But memories can be fuzzy. All I know is that I fell in love with the songs on his early records at an impressionable age. I remember sharing them and Ezra Furman’s with my mom, and her response being something along the lines of, “the songs are nice, but that voice is not for me”.
The songs were for me. And the voice was too. Not because I loved the voice, but because it was emphatically and confidently his own voice, like a welcome mat into this art that knew that it wouldn’t be for everyone in the world — but anyone making art with the illusion that it is for everyone in the world is a bit deluded. For the kid that I was, slowing figuring out how my own voice sounded, it was a gift.
His playing was a gift as well. I learned his songs when I started to push myself playing guitar in high school. Trying out wacky tunings, practicing my fingerpicking while watching TV shows, and breaking way too many strings. Many of our songs are written in a D9 / DADEAD tuning that I learned “Like the Wheel” on. It feels more like home than standard ever did.
I am driving to Louisville to see him play tonight. I’ll enjoy soaking things in and appreciating songs. I covered his “Fields of Our Home” for this week exercise. After some hours together, I think I understand what it’s saying a bit more. But I arranged it a bit differently on standard and slowed it down a bit, added a bit of organ and mellotron and a kiss of backing vocals. I hope you enjoy it.
Be well,
Sam