Best I can tell, there are only two ways to listen to a new record: from start to finish on the home stereo over a shared bottle of wine or couple of beers, in the evening, preferably one that is rainy, or, from start to finish over a long car ride on back country roads. That’s it. And we shouldn’t even think about downloading just a single radio-friendly track or two.
Had a text exchange with Adam one day last week that went like this:
Him: Need some joy today.
Me: I just bought Brent Cobb’s new record; that’s joyful!
Him: That actually is joyful. How about a drive tonight to listen to it?
He knows.
We travel our favorite back roads, and as is my habit, I imagine how beautiful Connecticut is when you erase the last 100 years. This is not difficult to do in the northeastern hills, with miles of stonewalls and homes built out of timber so thick you cannot imagine such a tree in today’s young forests. We stop at We-Li-Kit for ice cream and call it dinner. We offer Scout a taste. He likes music and ice cream. Taking the long(er) way home, we played the new record and spoke very little. At one point Adam reached for my hand and uncharacteristically broke the silence between us by saying, “I’m so lucky to have you in my life. Can you imagine if I was with a woman who was not into ice cream or music or my dog…”
(Heh. I found it endearing that he imagined such a woman exists. Impossible.)
I gently squeezed his hand as we continued on, listening to track after track of country blues, admiring how translucent the hay fields looked as the golden solstice sun dipped below the horizon.
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The new record is so fine. Wasn't sure at first because his last was damn near perfect, but after a couple of listens, I'm hooked. It's a departure from previous work, but that's not a bad thing.