“For not playing a live show for the last 18 months, I don’t know about you, but I think we sound halfway decent,” he laughed, his deep voice carrying in the quiet, chilly air.
A few concertgoers shouted, “you’re way better than decent.”
“I mean, I guess it’s been exceptionally decent…..”
A few more hollers.
“Extraordinarily decent.”
John Moreland has carried me through many dark days. The good days are plenty, but when they’re heavy, Moreland is my go to. In terms of a lyricist, he’s in my top three.
His set up, simple. Everything stripped down to just six guitar chords, a microphone, and his booming voice. His bandmate plays the keys and picks a guitar too, but that’s it.
It’s not a show where you go necessarily to be entertained. You go to feel understood. It’s more like a book than blinking lights. It’s more like a journal than a jam session.
“Hey Echo, play John Moreland…” that’s many evenings in our kitchen. When the laptop has closed, and the veggies need to be chopped.
And he reminds me…
“I wanna ask all the questions with answers we’ll never know
I wanna find my faith in records from long ago
I wanna set fear on fire and give dreaming a fair shot
And never give up whether anybody cares or not.”
Extraordinary decent wisdom.
