I can't talk now, we're dancing in the kitchen...

The first time I heard/saw Lyle Lovett was late at night. I was pacing in the kitchen. The TV (one of the few moments in my life I have actually owned a TV, much less had it turned on) was background noise littering the living room space while I circled from the sink to the phone to the sink to the phone to the sink. Wash a dish. Walk to the phone. Wash a fork. Walk to the phone. Klink! Break a glass. Walk to the phone. God, I wanted to pick up that phone and call him so bad. And it was so late. And what would it accomplish anyway…

The incessant humming of the TV wafted around the corner. A different noise. I stopped. Listened. Smiled. Crept around the corner peeking. Like there was a secret waiting there and I was playing “I spy”. I loved it. The sound. The raspy earthy wailfull voice. The rhythm. It moved me. I crouched on the floor , scrunched close to the tiny TV, and fell in love with the words, the laughter, the morning after voice. Write it down. Write down his name. BUY THIS CD!

I’m a rock and roll girl, and maybe a little soul, a little blues, a little country. But a lotta rock and roll. I love to play my music loud, so that the bass thumps on your heartstrings, the guitars become your heartstrings, the drums…Oh God, I love drums. And then came this Lyle thing. I just wanted to sway. To swoop. To dip.

I bought the CD. And gave it away. I bought another one. And loaned it out. Another one. Played it until the tracks skipped and the scratchy voice was stuck on random words, over and over again. I didn’t buy another.

Years went by. Skinny got married and I danced with an old friend. Until the sun came up. A week later, the Lyle Lovett CD came in the mail. Bootlegged, of course. No Smokey portrait of this strange looking gentleman on the jacket. Just the word “Lyle” scribbled in Sharpie marker across the CD itself. I tossed it in the car and rode to work with The Big Band for a day or too, and then there was Janis, The Rolling Stones, a few rants, and a few love songs, and I sort of forgot.

Until last night.

When I ran barefoot out in the rain to plunder through the glove box, and barefoot back …

To sway. To swoop. To dip.

Love it!