Till the Sun Turns Black.

Today's post will double as an album review and travelogue.

We left my apartment around 5 or so on Friday night. Traffic was a lot lighter than we previously expected, and we were out into the boonies of Lakeville and Farmington before we knew it. Krystal drove, and I had the distinct pleasure of leaning over every 30 seconds or so to make sure she wasn't going 20 over the speed limit. (She never did, by the way.)

We made it to our first turnoff just south of Mason City just before dusk, and we began scouting out potential locations for dinner. If there's one thing I learned about road signs in Iowa, it's that when there's a town listed on the occasional mileage sign, it doesn't mean that town is necessarily on that road. This was made painfully clear to us as we made our way west on Highway 18, with little or no food options available to us, and our stomachs growling louder and louder as each mile passed.

Finally, we settled on eating in Waterloo, and although there was a Panera there (random, I know, but more random restauranting comes later), we chose Wendy's. Apparently, all but two of this particular Wendy's employees were gone for the evening, so it was left to one extremely harried gentleman who appeared to be managing the place (as well as cooking, salting, packaging, and delivering the fries, and running the cash register at the counter). After that unsatisfying meal, we headed over to Target, as we had run out of CDs, and the current tape adaptor for the iPod was less than stellar.

As we entered the store, we were immediately greeted by the electronics section, a constant temptation for me, who is always looking to expand his musical collection (some may call it pissing my money away, but I call it research for the one song I write every two years). Anyway, there were three or so CDs I wanted to purchase, but my faithful financial accountability partner would not allow it. This frustrated me, as my accountability partner was bold enough to actually stop me from doing something. We decided on a compromise of one CD, and that became Ray Lamontagne's latest, Till the Sun Turns Black.

Once we had made it back on to the tangled web of confusion known as the Greater Cedar Falls/Waterloo freeway system, and aligned ourselves southward, Ray went in the CD player. Maybe it was the chance to spend some quality bonding time with Krystal, maybe it was the not-quite-cloudy, not-quite-clear night that presented itself, or maybe it was just the music, but it was one of those perfect convergences of music and a situation that leaves one absolutely transfixed. I haven't had very many of these in my life, and this was a special one.

From the very beginning notes of TTSTB (hereby shortened to save you, the readers, some time, as I'm already quite wordy enough), you are surrounded by a warm, well-arranged musical cocoon of strings, acoustic guitar, and Ray's distinctive voice, demanding at once both the subject of the song and the listener to "be here now."

The album continues on in sheer loveliness, paying tribute to the best sounds of the vinyl era. One of the album's highlights is track 4, "Three More Days." It's a perfectly crafted 70's era soul song, complete with glorious Wurlitzer by John Medeski, he of MMW fame. The track fades out with horns, voice, moaning guitar, and keyboard all grooving together.

This nugget is immediately followed by the starkness of "Can I Stay," one of the most tender love songs of this new, harsh millenium. It is a study in the beauty of simplicity, with the silent spaces simply serving to further highlight the interplay between guitar and voice.

I would love to wax rhapsodic about each song on this album, but time forbids me working much longer. There should be no question on whether or not to buy this album (or burn it, if you're amoral), but rather, how soon. Its single greatest quality may have been to lend beauty to a night, and a landscape that is not often considered much to look at. You can enjoy this album at any time of day, but it is most comfortable, and the most masterful as the sun fades, and the moon takes its place.

I have listened to the album all the way through at least five times since I bought it, and its beauty and strength in craft have not faded in the tiniest bit.

Unfortunately, one cannot say the same thing about Keokuk, our eventual destination for the evening.

More to come.

The City of Five Seasons.

Okay, okay--so I didn't really stay in Cedar Rapids on my trip through Iowa. But Krystal and I did drive through it, and we discovered that the city calls itself "The City of Five Seasons."
You might ask, "What could possibly the fifth season?"
You would be 100 percent correct in wondering if these Iowans have added to their calendar in a vain attempt to make people notice them, or if they just can't count, like the politicians in Indiana who once sought to set the value of pi at 3.2.

Don't believe me? Paste this address:
http://www.straightdope.com/classics/a3_341.html

Well, worry no further, for I have uncovered the answer to the mysterious fifth season.
It is, according to the city's website, "a time to enjoy."

One might easily wonder what people in Cedar Rapids have to enjoy, and why it is so important to lengthen the calendar to make sure people enjoy it.

Of course, one could also wonder how such a wonderfully inane city motto got past the planning board.

I have much more to write about our travels to the great land to the south, but I have to head to bed, as tomorrow is the first day of my new teaching career! Woot!

Thanks for being patient, all 3 of my faithful readers (thanks Mom!).

More will follow.