Friday, February 26, 2010

Lindsay Clark

We arrived at Lindsey house in a rush. We had lost her address and decided to pick one house out of the many were passing at the time it just so happened to be hers. We arrived at her door inquisitively. We were empty handed and had to run back to the car for the gear. As we walked through her door and staked out the space we forgot to introduce ourselves. After much moving and agitation we were ready to record. A soft breeze fell into the room. In the silence her banjo and voice carried us to the country-side. "I am melting in pools of sweet grass." The sun shone in the bay window we had her face. After some coaxing for her to give us the inspiration. She declined. I grant her this decision, let the song stand on its own. Within moments of her second song, with Jacob as my witness I was shedding tears of joy, beauty, and hope. "Oh Come All Ye Faithful". Lindsey calls the masses to stand, sit, lounge, but above all listen to her angelic voice. Her demeanor takes you in. She comforts you with long embracing melodies. She takes your hand to paint portraits of truth in lines like "trust has a pension for pleasure/doubt runs a discourse for pain." We knew within moments of leaving her presence that all would be well. We were too caught up with our work, the hussle bustle of the day to day. It is hard to properly re-live her power over us that afternoon. My restlessness dissipated. She put us at ease. She brought us peace. If I could only breathe.

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