[I was going to post a quote from the new Bob Dylan book, and I still might, another day, but I was recently re-reminded of this poem and had to share.--Eshtine)
The Summer Day
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean--
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down--
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
--Mary Oliver
Review as it appears at Playback St. Louis (click on "Reviews" link):
Emmylou Harris w/ Buddy Miller
Sheldon Concert Hall, September 9, 2004
This was a good gig for anyone in love with sound. Emmylou Harris’s voice is one of the wonders of the world, with a tone wistful, sad, and pure as a bird’s cry. With such a natural gift, she wouldn’t need to master such things as phrasing and dynamics—but she has, going from full power to the slightest breath, investing every line with meaning. The chance to hear her in the Sheldon’s perfect acoustics, just Harris and her guitar with backup guitar and vocals from great-songwriter-in-his-own-right Buddy Miller, should never be passed up.
“Performance” had little to do with the evening. So many entertainers pay so much attention to style, stage presence, and engaging or shocking an audience, it’s startling to find a musician whose sole focus is music. Everything revolved around song. Lyrics were about musicians (like a tribute to June Carter Cash, “Strong Hand,” or “Raise the Dead,” which name-dropped Hank Williams, Sam Cooke, Bill Monroe, and Robert Johnson). Harris didn’t sell the songs with gestures or calls to the crowd to sing along. It was as if, even with Miller on stage with her, even in a packed Sheldon, she was alone, singing to someone unseen. “Emmylou is just in love with music,” Miller explained in an interview before the show. The music clearly loved her back.
The most well represented of Harris’ many, many albums were 2000’s Red Dirt Girl and 1995’s Wrecking Ball. It was a surprise not to hear more from her most recent release, Stumble Into Grace, but it would be hard to argue with the range and quality of the selections—including songs by James Taylor, John Lennon, Lucinda Williams, and Harris herself. Sometimes the songs seemed rushed, the emotions not fully tapped—but the spine-tinglers more than made up for any weak spots. The spine-tingliest was “Every Grain of Sand,” a Dylan hymn with humility and dignity in perfect balance. Harris quipped afterward how she considers it an accomplishment to remember all the words. (It wasn’t easy to laugh when Harris cracked a joke—not because her jokes weren’t funny, but because she’s Emmylou Harris. It was like hearing the Mona Lisa say, “Knock knock.”)
Prior to their concert here, Harris and Miller were on a quick tour, the “Sweet Harmony Traveling Revue” with Patty Griffin, Gillian Welch, and David Rawlings. To go from ensemble player in such a combination of talents to having to perform all by one’s lonesome may have been a tough transition for Miller. He was the opening act, so he started the evening solo, but within a couple of songs invited Harris to join him. Out she came for three tunes, including The Left Banke’s 1966 hit “Walk Away Renee,” which Miller introduced as something they were attempting without much practice beforehand: “Emmylou says it’s a good idea to do stuff you find terrifying.” Miller seemed to enjoy expanding the talent pool, asking the sound guy Doug, “Are you ready with those maracas?” He was, shaking away with feeling on an old gospel bluegrass number, “Amen There’s a Higher Power.”