Look. Here is a perfectly good review of Lucinda Williams’ new album. It lets you know what kinds of songs are on it, what they’re about, and whether it’s a good and interesting listen (apparently so). But you know how I was talking about how strange it is in Jewly Hight’s book that there’s nothing about spouses or lovers or kids unless those spouses, lovers, or kids are the musical collaborators of said women, because the “here’s something about this female artist’s spouse/lover/kids” is so ubiquitous that it’s nearly invisible. It just doesn’t seem strange when a discussion of a female artist’s art is put in the context of her relationships.
And I’m not trying to dog on Blake Boldt in the slightest. I’m just curious, now that the absence of it has brought my attention to its presence, how often I’ll notice.
Listen to songs like “Kiss Like Your Kiss,” a sultry duet with Elvis Costello, and the accordian-kissed “Sweet Love,” and you can see how romantic contentment (Williams married in 2009) has smoothed off some of her rough edges.
Or maybe she smokes a lot of pot now. Or maybe the “I got married and it mellowed me” is a good narrative because people are willing to sympathize with it. But I’m going to keep an eye out for it from here on out–the mention of a female artist’s relationships as being central to her art.
Trope, I have my eye on you.