Dissatisfaction

I keep changing this post; I can't seem to get it right. Sometimes, being an editor leads to too much damn editing, but the words keep refusing to fall in the proper order. I'm not sure what I want to say, which is probably why I can't say it right. I wanted to write about the latest CDs from Patty Griffin and Lori McKenna, two artists who excel with words. I'm definitely one of those chicks who listens more to the lyrics than the music in a song, and then the words float around in my head like bits of a poem I haven't started.

I loved 1000 Kisses and Pieces of Me; I never thought I'd like anything as much. Once an artist gives you that seemingly perfect work, you almost give up hope that they will ever be that good again, or that you'll ever be that open to the music again. Patty's Impossible Dream is stunning, and I've only heard it twice. Likewise, Bittertown may end up as my favorite Lori McKenna album (and not just because I love all things bitter). I want to use words like "haunting" and "evocative," but they feel so overused. Maybe the music suits my melancholy. Maybe my melancholy suits the music. I really couldn't say. I hate when words fail me; they're usually the only thing I have.