B and I went on a Tower Record spree last week. At the height of my cd-binging about five
years ago, I would have scoffed at Tower. It was always Mystery Train or In Your Ear or Disc Diggers... or the
Newbury Comics in MIT's student center-- but rarely, oh-so-rarely, was it Tower. Tower was reserved for Sunday
night post-10pm cravings-- like that night when I absolutely couldn't find sleep without completing my Sundays and
Innocence Mission back collections. I parked next to the Christian Science center and made my way through
the brooding boys standing outside Berklee College of Music to that famous Tower revolving door.
And once inside, I got my fix.
DC is severely lacking in independent music stores-- at least compared to the Boston/Cambridge scene
that I knew like the back of my hand. B and I fell in love with DCCDs in Adams Morgan a year ago-- but our
most recent trip found it dark and quiet-- closed for good. I loved Now! Music and Fashion in its old Clarendon
location with a Cinerama Va Va Voom-inspired color scheme, but since it moved to King Street in Old Town,
it just doesn't have that same appeal. We like to gamble on new music at CD Warehouse on M Street in Georgetown,
but its cramped space accelerates my browsing and spills me out onto the sidewalk before I feel truly satisfied.
Which brings us to Tower-- one out in the Tysons area in close proximity to the excellent Thai yellow curry that
we were craving that Tuesday night. Once inside the monster store-- browsing is far from a stuffy affair here-- I bee lined
for Rock/Pop and the newest from Elizabeth Elmore's The Reputation. Then I settled in along "listening station
wall", entranced by Blonde Redhead and Polyphonic Spree. B, on the other hand, had headed straight to Blues
to find his coveted Robert Randolph and the Family Band and from there wound up enveloped by Country.
You can take the boy out of Texas...
On more than one occasion I have walked through the door to hear country music blaring from B's computer.
It's a Texas lifeblood thing... like the cup of coffee that you barely remember drinking every single morning until your
body fiercely rejects the day you're too busy and walk out the door without it. Apparently he didn't realize the
importance of country music to his system until he was stranded here "up North" where it doesn't spill
out over into everyone's daily routine. It's not as if he's a huge fan-- a fact noted when he realized he missed it
and had no reserves in his CD collection to fall back on. But like those post-10pm Sunday nights, he occasionally
needs his fix.
He settled on Pat Green and Cory Morrow-- the former I like much, much more than the latter. In fact, it's not
even right to qualify my liking Pat Green as simply more than I like another country artist-- but instead I should just
say that I like him... period. It was a little surprising to me-- so much that I couldn't even describe his influence
when B asked me a few nights ago to pinpoint what I liked about him. But a few days later, and a random find in
my CD collection later, it's much clearer than before: he reminds me of Lyle Lovett.
And this girl has an unexplained soft spot for Lyle Lovett.
His playful sweetness layered over wistful sadness.
The rolling motion in his music-- bringing to mind the sapphire West Texas skies over thick, rust-colored clay--
and its soft-spoken wisdom just connects inside of me. A tiny little spot-- squishy and dreamy, just like the one Julia
must have had-- sits peacefully within. Logically unexplained and yet inherently understood. |
