Thursday, October 17, 2013

And I need you more than want you. And I want you for all time.

On repeat on my iPod:

If "Rainy Night in Georgia" is the loneliest song ever recorded (and I think it is), this is firmly entrenched in second place:


It may not be a better record than Brook Benton's masterpiece, but I know plenty of people who think it is. And they may be right.

Certainly the arrangement is stellar, and it has a sound and feel that one critic described as "living completely outside of pop music." True in 1968, true today. Nothing before or since sounds like it.

The melody stops me right in my tracks, every time, conveying not just loneliness, but longing, devotion and dedication. The somewhat ambiguous lyrics leave enough room for the listener to climb in and find their own interpretation.

"Wichita Lineman" is an American classic, a portrait of a desolate and wide-open landscape rife with heartfelt emotion that contains a universal language of what lives inside each of us, even if we have different ways of expressing it.

And the line that makes the title of this post is as timeless as the song itself, not to mention that Danelectro six-string bass solo.

They don't make records like this any more. And they probably never will.

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