*In the spirit of trying to post something semi-regularly, kind of like my monthly book reviews, I thought I’d do a weekly blog about whatever song or album or artist has, for whatever reason, been getting a lot of play in my house. It won’t be about trying to impress anyone with trendy new bands or deep cuts or esoteric stuff – frankly my musical tastes aren’t broad enough to impress anyone – but will be a reflection of what’s caught my interest at the moment. The posts will be short and sweet, not my usual novels. And Wednesday seemed like a good day to publish them since that’s my most neglected blogging day. But please, if you think this is a stupid, pedantic idea, say so! The last thing I want to do is bore anyone.*
So, of course, my first of this type of post is going to send you all screaming for the hills because I’ve talked about this band ad nauseam. And I KNOW. I’M SORRY. But if all of YOUR social media feeds had been jammed for an entire week with posts by friends who’d traveled to London for Lost Evenings, you’d feel kind of obligated to listen to Frank and the Souls again too.
I may have mentioned this in a previous post (I’ve written about them so damned much, I can’t remember), but I first heard this song fairly recently, at a show in West Virginia on Halloween weekend. It’s a bonus track from England Keep My Bones, and since I don’t have the deluxe version of that album, I didn’t know it existed until he played a stripped-down version in Morgantown. By now you know that most of Frank’s music strikes a deep emotional chord with me, but this one – simple, plaintive, achingly lovely – left me reeling. It tore me apart. I downloaded it as soon as I left the venue and for nearly the entire four-hour drive home, I listened to it on repeat. And now every time I hear it, I think of long, empty stretches of lonely mountain highway. Which, now that I think about it, seems perfectly appropriate. It’s my favorite song of his.
Frank Turner – “Wanderlust”
(I promise next week’s song will be something – anything – other than Frank Turner.)