Songs: Looking For A Way Out

I guess it's not too surprising that as the blog has moved away from a travelogue to a more personal reflection that I would eventually get to music. Without a doubt I can state that music has always been very important to me, although I also have to be honest and admit that so many of my friends know a lot more about it than I do. My friends David Kelley and Gary Beatrice and Dave Wallace and Mike Kelly are walking encyclopedias; and my ex-wife Brenda has the most eclectic and sophisticated musical taste of anyone I've ever met. With me I locked into Neil Young early on and had a vague sense that there were other folks making music. Luckily over the years I've learned a lot about other musicians through the patient suggestions of my friends. Like most men I rank things, which I suppose relates to growing up as sports maniacs. That's one of the many beauties of baseball - endless top 10 lists. Several months ago on my fantasy baseball website (and that's another posting in its own right) I suggested the topic of perfect songs. That is, songs that you just really can't imagine being better than they are. That, of course, got me thinking of songs that would make my list, as well as just wonderful songs in general. And now my internal conversation has found its way onto my blog, which is essentially an internal conversation in its own right. But where to start? I guess I'll just start with the song that has popped into my head: Uncle Tupelo's Looking For A Way Out. Uncle Tupelo has long been my pat answer in the unusual category of Best Band I Never Heard of Until After They Were Already Broken Up, and they're another band that David Kelley introduced to me (although lately I've had so many great conversations about them with my friend Mike Kelly). They are the band that, upon their break-up, spawned Son Volt and Wilco. So why do I love this song so much? I do have a very personal and emotional reaction to it because it is one of the songs that I clearly remember listening to as I drove across Iowa after dropping my son off at Drake University for his freshman year, and how the line, "There was a time, that time is gone" made me pull over to the side of the road and sob. More than that, however, is that it just struck a chord with me because that's how I always felt growing up back in Indiana. I never went overseas until ten years ago, and didn't really leave the region to move south to Atlanta until I was thirty, but I think I was always looking for a way out. For most of my life it was literature and then it became film, but it was always about being someplace other than where I was. I thought a lot about it this summer as Sanford and I were heading west and passing through Indiana and Illinois and Missouri and especially Kansas and Oklahoma. The song brilliantly manages to portray that limited small town view while also elegiacally hint at its passing (much as Don Quixote both mocks romantic novels and mourns the passing of chivalry). I've heard about three different versions of the song, and, truthfully, I think I like the one from their Discography collection best. The song initially appeared on Still Feel Gone, and the re-release contains two versions. However, they're all great - so give a listen.