Lucinda is putting the finishing touches on her new songs, which should see the light on a new CD in 2003.  Her 2002 spring tour included a night at the Wiltern in L.A. and the following review was one that I missed putting in a previous column, so here it is now.

Williams a far cry from uninspired
By Glenn Whipp
Staff Writer, Los Angeles Daily News

Friday, April 26, 2002 - Midway through Lucinda Williams' concert Thursday night at the Wiltern Theatre, some idiot, clearly not in complete possession of all of his senses, screamed, "Show some (bleeping) intensity."

Williams looked at her bandmates, laughed incredulously and said, "That has to be sarcasm, right?" She then dismissed the lout with a familiar epithet before tearing into another song.

Intensity is one thing the 50-year-old Williams doesn't have to worry about. Her two-hour, 22-song concert was full of the kind of passion, Southern pride and literary artistry that has made her one of the most critically acclaimed singer-songwriters of this generation.

The revelation of Williams in concert comes in hearing the power of her voice. On her albums, Williams' singing beautifully cracks and trembles, vividly conveying vulnerability and, at times, a wounded strength. In concert, her raw, whiskey-soaked voice does all that and more, making the ballads even more gorgeous and turning her defiant story songs into searing expressions of anger and independence.

Williams, dressed in black leather pants and a midriff-baring top, continues to defy age in every sense. Her best work is in the here and now, and she clearly knows that, offering 14 songs from her last two albums, "Car Wheels
on a Gravel Road" and "Essence."

She and her crack five-piece band also expertly covered blues songs from Skip James and Howlin' Wolf and played a new Williams composition, the folk-tinged "Minneapolis," for the first time ever.

Williams has said that she knows she has written a good song when it makes her cry uncontrollably. That's a lot of tears - and they're well-spent.

On November 5, 2002, Lucinda joined with other artists to perform at a benefit in Los Angeles.  Here is a review:

POP MUSIC REVIEW

Artists step up for a cause
Aimee Mann's moving, hooked-filled rock anchors 5-hour benefit for women's issues.

By Steve Appleford, Special to The Los Angeles Times -- November 7, 2002

Great things come from good intentions, which was true enough in the music Tuesday at the Wiltern for a benefit for the Step-Up Women's Network, with a lineup headed by Lucinda Williams and a powerful cast of singer-songwriters.

But the five-hour concert was no dry exercise in philanthropy. It was instead marked by sometimes stripped down but always worthwhile sets by Williams, Joe Henry, Neil Finn, Aimee Mann, John Doe and newcomer Rosey -- or what Finn called "amazing people for a good cause."

That cause includes research into breast cancer, education programs for girls and an end to violence against women.

"It's important for people to get outside of themselves, to realize there's a world out there and we're all connected," Williams said backstage before her set. "Artists have a responsibility, is the way I look at it."

The night also made for a powerful, if unplanned statement on the health of a certain blend of musical depth and grace, represented by soaring melodies and thoughtful, challenging lyrics, ending with a preview of songs from Williams' album-in-progress.

In leather jeans and a black Harley-Davidson T-shirt, Williams led her band through a tough, bristling folk-rock set with a Rolling Stones vibe. There were words of longing and passionate reminiscence on "Those Three Days" and "World Without Tears," before the explosive "Real Live Bleeding Fingers and Broken Guitar Strings," a set-closing rocker that she said was inspired by Paul Westerberg of the Replacements.

For his set, Finn was joined by Jon Brion on toy piano and other diminutive keyboards, adding festive melodies to Finn's already elegant pop. Mann re-created her own moving, hooked-filled rock, as crisp and precise at the Wiltern as on her recordings. Focused and at ease behind the microphone, she performed strong and deeply vulnerable songs from the soundtrack to "Magnolia" and her newest album, "Humpty Dumpty."

Earlier, Henry played the moody, atmospheric songs of his recent, career-defining albums, as a kind of noir Dylan with a jazz fixation. John Doe performed acoustic, almost jazzy takes on songs from his new solo album, "Dim Stars Bright Sky," joined by Grant-Lee Phillips on the song "This Town." And Rosey's short set was both sultry and charismatic, suggesting yet another generation of curious musical minds.

Copyright 2002 Los Angeles Times

Here is a review of Lucinda's portion of this concert by Paul in L.A.:

Lucinda climaxed a long, overly ambitious benefit for the Women's StepUp Network with a fine 45-minute set of mostly new material. After 4+ hours of other music, Lucinda finally took the stage at 11:50 PM, with about half the audience already departed after Neil Finn's closing lullaby and goodnight. Lucinda looked great with her blond hair, a tight black T-shirt with red trim, and shiny black jeans. The band was configured per recent tours, with Doug Pettibone on guitars, Taras Prodaniuk on bass, and Jim Christie on drums. The set list was:

1. Drunken Angel
2. Ventura
3. Righteously
4. Those Three Days
5. Atonement
6. World Without Tears
7. The Sweet Side
8. Get Right with God
9. Real Live Bleeding Fingers and Broken Guitar Strings

Certainly, a worthwhile performance for Lucinda fans, but perhaps StepUp should have booked fewer acts, especially for a Tuesday night.

Rolling Stone Magazine dated October 31, 2002 was a special issue devoted to Women In Rock. Lucinda's interview is below, and on page 135 her album "Car Wheels" is listed as #10 of the 50 Essential Albums by Women in Rock.

Lucinda Williams

Who else can claim to be equal parts Flannery O'Connor and the Pretenders

One of the sharpest, most uncompromising singer-songwriters of any gender, Lucinda Williams, 49, tends to take her time making records: Since 1988's Lucinda Williams, she has released only three other full-length albums: Sweet Old World, Car Wheels on a Gravel Road and last year's Essence. But they are invariably worth the wait. Her music draws from folk, country and rock traditions, and her aching vocals and evocative lyrics capture moments as intensely as the prose of Flannery O'Connor or Eudora Welty, to name two of Williams' nonmusical idols. And her obsessiveness regarding music extends well beyond her own: After an initial interview, an increasingly apologetic Williams calls back three times in the course of a couple of weeks to add, subtract and clarify influences, new favorites and albums she wishes she'd made. A typical revision: "So I listened to Surrealistic Pillow after we talked, and it's still a great album, but I don't know if I wish I'd made it. Could I change that to Highway 61?"
 

Which female musicians have influenced you?

There are so many. When I was first out, I was knee-deep in the whole folk thing, so it was more like Judy Collins and Joan Baez. Memphis Minnie. And the Pretenders really jumped out at me in the early Eighties.

When did you realize you wanted to be a musician?

I started playing guitar at twelve and a half. I really knew then. You know who else I admired? Mary Travers from Peter, Paul and Mary. I liked her voice and presence, and I loved the way she dressed onstage. She'd wear a nice dress and heels, and she had long, blond hair that she'd brush onstage. And then, you know, my dad was a college professor, so his students would be at the house and turn me on to people like Joni Mitchell and Leonard Cohen. One guy came in one day with a copy of Highway 61 Revisited. My dad would have these debates with his writing students about whether Dylan was a poet or just a songwriter.
 

Where do you come down on that?

He's a songwriter. I tried writing poetry, and it's a different animal. But writing, for me, was what I was trying to do. I knew I wasn't gonna have that beautiful, high voice like Joni Mitchell or Judy Collins. So I thought, "Well, I better really hone my songwriting, and then maybe I can be more like Bob Dylan, who doesn't have a perfect voice."

Do you have any advice for up-and-coming female musicians?

When you're writing, dig beneath the surface and try to be fearless. Don't be afraid about not being feminine.

Was that ever hard for you?

No. Maybe because I grew up around poets. They don't hold back. They write about everything, from a cat sleeping on a window to a wreck on the highway -- from, you know, suicide to going to the grocery store to get tomatoes for a casserole to, I don't know, trying to meet a guy in a bar, and he's in a leather jacket, and he's all sweaty with his shirt open. Consequently, now I can't get a damn thing covered in Nashville. Because my songs, I've been told, are too edgy or something. I guess I've always had a rock & roll attitude. I used to cover that Jimi Hendrix song "Angel," and that Jefferson Airplane song "Triad," and then I'd blend it all: Robert Johnson, Memphis Minnie, writers like Flannery O'Connor. You mix it up, pour it in a bowl and see what comes out. And that's me.

MARK BINELLI