Tuesday, November 09, 2004

It's nice to kid yourself that you don't get somewhat jaded doing any kind of work after a while, but it's easy to do when writing about music, simply because there is so much of it. I love getting records in the mail, but even when I get something I love or have been waiting for it's hard to get as excited as I used to. (Plus I'm, you know, old--30 in three months, gah.) So I didn't figure anything out of the ordinary when I was going through the weekend's packages. Then I opened a small box containing this, and damn if it didn't feel like--you guessed it--a gift. That's partly because it contained a beautiful little gift card in a red envelope thanking me for my support, and the conveniently placed "To" and "From" spaces on the front cover had been addressed to me from the label in calligraphic marker, but it was just as much the fact that the record was just so instantly mouthwatering, and so unexpected--I wasn't aware Dust-to-Digital were going to release anything new before the mooted sacred harp box. On my second play now, and there'll be lots more--it's brilliant, I'd wager the best holiday collection in ages, which I wish were higher praise. But given the past week (First Avenue closing, recovery from cyst surgery, the goddamned election, other personal stuff not meant for this space), it felt and feels like an act of grace.