seems to have gained permanent residence in my cd player.

I can't get over how great it is.

If you'd like to hear her live, check this out: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5175079

Seriously folks, don't let this record slip past you (except for hickman, who will find it "samey" and boring).

Do you just say shit assuming I'm not going to check out a thread?

I wanted to listen to this, but we got an advance of it and it wouldn't play on the computer. I sent it to someone that was really into her for review, so hopefully they have a way around the technology or an older CD player.

I remember really liking her output from the 70s/80s, so there ya go.

Just in case anyone's wondering, the album ends with a track called '0:71', which is nothing but 71 seconds of silence, one for each year of her parents' lives. She says it is the only true tribute song on the record

that song is the weakest on the record.

that song is the weakest on the record.

Hmmmm. I haven't really listened to her recent stuff, but it sounds like this is worth checking out. Thanks for the tip.

It definitely is. There's a few weak tracks on the set, but the stronger songs more than make up for it. The World Unseen, I Was Watching You, Burn Down this Town, and title track are my faves.

I went to see Rosanne Cash at Carnegie Hall's Zankel Hall last night (the site of one of my favorite Patty concerts and the show was amazing for a number of reasons. (Keith will kill me when I tell this story.)

I was going alone and I arrived about 15 minutes early. I was sitting in about the 12th row three seats in from the aisle. I sat in my seat and started to read the latest issue of the New Yorker and after a few minutes put it back in my brief case and took out a brief I'm in the middle of editing. In the interim, a very pregnant blond haired woman sat down next to me and as I was putting the magazine away she asked me: "Would you mind if I borrowed your New Yorker. I'm in the middle of the Darwin article and I'd love to finish it." I said "Sure" and gave it to her. She finished the article and returned my New Yorker to me, commenting that Darwin was such an interesting figure and thinker. Then just as the lights were dimming I noticed out of the corner of my eye that someone had slipped into the aisle seat next to her and that she was snuggling up to him.

The concert itself was fantastic. Rosanne Cash was in superb voice and her banter was funny and wise. She made several comments about what a sad day in Mudville it was and that both her husband and son were just crushed by the Mets loss the night before in the 7th game of the NLCS. She performed most of the songs off of Black Cadillac and a number of covers I'd never heard her play before including an awesome version of Bobby Gentry's standard, Ode To Billie Joe.

Anyway, just as she starts to sing House on the Lake, the guy at the end leaves his seat and I'm thinking to myself, "why would anyone leave at this point? It's SUCH a great concert. He must have a prostate problem or something." So Rosanne finishes the number and then explains that she had recorded a song about a dozen years ago that she loves but hasn't performed in about a decade, however, she was in Balducci's earlier in the week (that's a up-scale food store in lower Manhattan where the Felicity TV character used to work while attending NYU) and she was gazing longingly at the cheese section and suddenly her eyes locked over the mountain of cheese with the author of that song. They hadn't seen each other in a long time but they were catching up about their families and such and she decided to mention that she's be performing tonight and he agreed to come and sing a duet with her. At that point she asks us to please make welcome-- Elvis Costello. They not only do a killer version of Our Little Angel, but he stays out and they trade verses on an incredible version of Big River. The place is going wild and there's a prolonged standing ovation and huge cheers. Then Elvis leaves the stage and Rosanne brings things down a little with a stunning version of Wayfaring Stranger. In about the middle of that song I see the guy slip back into the aisle seat two seats away from me and I'm thinking "that poor schmuck just missed the best part of the concert" but as he sits down I hear the very pregnant blond woman sitting next to me lean over and say to him "Honey, you were just GREAT!"

As you've undoubtedly picked up, the guy I thought was a schmuck for leaving early was, in fact, Elvis Costello, and the very pregant blond who'd borrowed by New Yorker to finish the Darwin article was Diana Krall. As we were gathering our stuff to leave I was really tempted to say something to Elvis 'cause I'd just seen him two weeks earlier in San Francisco where he did the best set of the 3 day Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival but instead, I just turned to Diana Krall and said, "Good luck with the twins." She smiled shyly and commented, "Thanks. We'll need it. And thanks again for the magazine."