For Those Who Claim That I Don't Share Enough About Myself on This Blog . . .
On Sunday I bought Raul Malo's new CD, You're Only Lonely. He's the former lead singer of the great alt-country group the Mavericks. He's often likened to Roy Orbison, and its an apt comparison, though Malo goes far beyond either derivativeness or mere homage. He has a fantastic voice, full of his own brand of lush emotion. Click on his name above and you'll hear him singing the title track in its entirety.
But the song on the CD that caught me off guard and completely undid me the first time I listened to it on Sunday was his version of Randy Newman's "Feels Like Home." This has never happened to me listening to a record that I can recall, but I completely lost it, sitting there in my living room on a sunny afternoon. I think it was a combination of three separate emotional hot points converging unexpectedly: memories of my former relationship, in the background of my life but still very much with me; my elderly parents' situation, which had been on my mind a lot last week; and my ongoing search for a home to buy -- the ever more intense longing for that permanence it represents, that place of my own.
After a day or so, I braved listening to the song again -- and have been doing so over and over since. I've desensitized myself to the initial raw emotion and now can listen, still moved but (knock on wood) dry-eyed. It's unabashedly romantic; in fact, the lyrics will probably seem sappy to some of my readers (if you've had a sense from the start of this post that this song may not be your cup of tea, you're probably right), but I happen to think it's a perfect recording.
The final thing I'll say is this: I wasn't sure I would ever again feel that hope, or desire, for the kind of love and attachment the song celebrates. But it seems, despite the countervailing pull toward a contented solitude and peace in myself, that it's there after all.
I know the two don't have to be mutually exclusive. How to reconcile them is the challenge.
Feels like home to me
Feels like home to me
Feels like I'm all the way back where I come from
Feels like home to me
Feels like home to me
Feels like I'm all the way back where I belong
But the song on the CD that caught me off guard and completely undid me the first time I listened to it on Sunday was his version of Randy Newman's "Feels Like Home." This has never happened to me listening to a record that I can recall, but I completely lost it, sitting there in my living room on a sunny afternoon. I think it was a combination of three separate emotional hot points converging unexpectedly: memories of my former relationship, in the background of my life but still very much with me; my elderly parents' situation, which had been on my mind a lot last week; and my ongoing search for a home to buy -- the ever more intense longing for that permanence it represents, that place of my own.
After a day or so, I braved listening to the song again -- and have been doing so over and over since. I've desensitized myself to the initial raw emotion and now can listen, still moved but (knock on wood) dry-eyed. It's unabashedly romantic; in fact, the lyrics will probably seem sappy to some of my readers (if you've had a sense from the start of this post that this song may not be your cup of tea, you're probably right), but I happen to think it's a perfect recording.
The final thing I'll say is this: I wasn't sure I would ever again feel that hope, or desire, for the kind of love and attachment the song celebrates. But it seems, despite the countervailing pull toward a contented solitude and peace in myself, that it's there after all.
I know the two don't have to be mutually exclusive. How to reconcile them is the challenge.
Feels like home to me
Feels like home to me
Feels like I'm all the way back where I come from
Feels like home to me
Feels like home to me
Feels like I'm all the way back where I belong
posted by Billy at 11:32 PM
5 Comments:
I loved this! Thanks for drawing my attention to it. It's what most of us want, I think ... a place of belonging. May you find your inner and outer home this coming year.
way better than linda ronstadt? "way"? IMPOSSIBLE!
as for the total meltdown, it's probably a cumulative effect and the song is just a circumstantial trigger. it could've been three puppies sitting on a ledge depending on the timing :) then again i cry at almost anything so i may just be projecting.
Yes, way. And I say that as someone who has the highest reverence for Linda Ronstadt. But she recorded this song after her operatic training, when her voice had become less spontaneous and far too "perfect."
Yes, there was a cumulative element to it, but not any old thing would have triggered it. The imagery of the song was very apt and meaningful to the emotions that had been simmering.
Hey Billy, I work for Raul Malo. Drop me a line when you get a sec, I'd like to get you an autographed copy of the album. Great story.
Best,
Al McManus
Gold Mountain Entertainment Nashville
almcmanus at bellsouth dot net
i like this review from RMs website: “A beautiful record, through and through. If you don’t like it, you’re a bad person.”
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