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Lucinda Williams
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Written & Edited by Barry Brooks
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BARRY'S NOTES - May 2001

Lucinda started touring with her new band in March, and you may have read various reviews of some of her shows on Marq's website. I'd like to put those and others in my column so that they will be archived. Before I get to them, let me list the names of her new band members. They are:

Bo Ramsey, guitar & vocals
Billy Watts, guitar & vocals
Neal Casal, guitar, harmonica, & vocals
Michael Ramos, keyboards, B-3, accordion
Taras Prodaniuk, bass
Don Heffington, drums

RollingStone.com had the following article about Lucinda's upcoming CD on March 6, though the CD title would not be what they listed:
Lucinda's Butterfly Will Fly

Lucinda Williams' new album, Broken Butterflies, is in the mixing process. The singer-songwriter's long anticipated sixth album is the follow-up to her Grammy-winning Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, which was released in 1998. Fortunately, Broken Butterflies did not have the difficult birthing process that its predecessor did -- Car Wheels took six years to complete because of Williams' supposed rampant perfectionism, and revolving door of producers.
This time out Williams used the production services of Charlie Sexton, the Texas guitar whiz who cut his teeth in Joe Ely's band and went on to pair up in the studio and onstage with the likes of Bob Dylan, Don Henley and Keith Richards. The threesome began working in a Minneapolis studio in October and just finished last month.

Sexton is not only behind the boards on the record, but he also plays guitar, along with a stellar team that includes Bo Ramsey, Neil Young cohort Jim Keltner, Tony Garnier, Reese Wyans and David Mansfield. "Essence," the first single from the album is slated to go to radio on March 27th, with the album tentatively scheduled to hit stores on May 22nd.

Williams is also ready to hit the road. She'll play March 13th at Fort Worth, Texas' Caravan of Dreams, followed by a stint at this year's South by Southwest at the Austin Music Hall on March 14th and 15th. On March 30th, she'll take the stage with her father Miller Williams -- the 1997 Presidential Inauguration poet -- at Carnegie Music Hall in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

JAAN UHELSZKI
(March 6, 2001)

The very first show on the current tour was on March 13 at the Caravan of Dreams in Ft. Worth. On March 8, The Dallas Observer published the following:

Out & About
Lucinda Williams
By Mikael Wood

I won't cop to it if you ask me tomorrow, but I was not an early supporter of Lucinda Williams. Now, of course, I love her, think she's great, wish her luck, would stop using Napster if she asked me (OK, I wouldn't do that, but I would become one of those people for whom Napster is a promotional tool as opposed to an end unto itself, buying her records even if I'd already downloaded them weeks before their official, label-sanctioned release, albeit with the second song's terminating E7 chord cut mercilessly short by some clumsy Mac user's unsteady hand), but back in 1998, when her still-divine Car Wheels on a Gravel Road was released (I think at the time Shawn Fanning was like a sophomore in some underpaid, over-dedicated computer-engineering teacher's class at some high school somewhere, so I didn't have the month of jump time I'd have now, you see), I thought she was an overrated old country-rock bag with eyes full of the crossover-potential stars you'd expect of someone like, say, Vonda Shepard after Calista Flockhart gave her the ol' network-approved thumbs up (which is to say the ol' corporate tie-in/stock-option/you-scratch-our-back-we'll-renew-your-show thumbs up, which is to say not a thumb at all).
But now, O Lucinda, I see the error of my ways. Or, perhaps more accurately, I see how beautifully your Wheels goes round and round. Like all great records that take warming up to (in my case, actually hearing it once or twice instead of dismissing writers three times my age as half-deaf sycophants, or at least [at best?] out-of-touch grandfathers), Williams' fifth album has ostensibly become a fetish object, as indelibly linked to a specific time and place (uh, 1998, my room) as a girlfriend's scent or that episode of The Cosby Show where Denise makes Theo a shirt with fucked-up sleeves. That I didn't even know who Williams was when she made records like 1992's not-as-great- but-still-worth- Napstering-or-hey- why-don't-you-buy- it-I-mean-she-deserves- your-cash-if-Vonda- Shepard-does Sweet Old World (then again, as I've intimated, at the time I was a sophomore myself in some underpaid, over-dedicated creative-writing teacher's class [ha ha] at some high school somewhere, so cut me some slack; Alice in Chains' "Them Bones" was my idea of roots-rock) just makes me shiver twice.
That's not a subtle way of saying Williams turns me on--though she kind of does in a Bill and Ted's/hot-mom sort of way--but that her songs--the type that start out deeply personal and end up breathtakingly communal, and that's about as good as I can do at describing them (sorry, teach)--strike a hidden nerve most don't approach.
Begrudgingly belated note to self: Old people aren't always wrong. Or right.

Originally published by Dallas Observer March 8, 2001
©2001 New Times, Inc.

The next day, March 9, saw the following column in the Ft. Worth Star-telegram:

Lucinda's back -- Williams returns with a new CD, a new label and the same old way with a heartache

By Dave Ferman
Ft. Worth Star-Telegram, Friday, Mar. 9, 2001

It was the morning after a long night in the summer of 1998, and we were driving through the gorgeous countryside from Louisville to Nashville when `Car Wheels on a Gravel Road' came on the radio.
`Gravel,' the title track to Lucinda Williams' then just-released sixth CD, is one of those songs that grabs hard fast and doesn't let go: It's the weary twang of Williams' voice, the story of a trip through the South punctuated by cottonfields passing by and Hank Williams on the radio, the title phrase repeated over and over, hinting heavily at poverty and displacement, the melody, all of it.

There was silence in the car when the song ended.

"Well, `that' was pretty damn good," said my friend after a long moment. For a second, I could only nod. Pretty damn good wasn't the half of it.

What we were hearing was the sound of Williams, the Louisiana-born daughter of highly regarded poet Miller Williams, reclaiming her career. `Car' had been six long, hard years in the making, much of that time spent recording the CD `three times' -- once in Austin, once in Nashville with Steve Earle as producer and, finally, in Los Angeles, with E Street Band keyboardist Roy Bittan producing.

All this because Williams is a perfectionist who cares more about making the `right' record than one that can be put onto the shelves ASAP.

In truth, Williams has always been restless: She's lived all over the South (including long stints in Austin and Houston) and absorbed styles of everyone from Texas '70s singer/songwriters such as Guy Clark to the ancient Delta blues of Robert Johnson. In fact, her first record, 1978's `Ramblin',' was all covers -- of Johnson, ol' Hank, Memphis Minnie and others.

Over the years -- and four more records -- Williams became a folk music tastemaker's favorite. At the same time, her songs were being covered by far more well-known artists. Tom Petty did `Changed the Locks,' Patty Loveless had a hit with `The Night's Too Long,' and `Passionate Kisses' was a Grammy-winning hit for Mary-Chapin Carpenter. And in 1992, Williams released arguably her best record up to then, `Sweet Old World.'

All was set -- and then came the long wait for `Car.'

Overly long waits for records often spell commercial disaster. In this case, though, `Car' was immediately (and rightly) hailed as a masterpiece. We were relieved to finally have a new Williams record, but nobody expected a near-perfect, sometimes emotionally raw travelogue through the South and a woman's tender, bruised soul.

`Car' is a CD that -- like Bruce Springsteen's `Born To Run' and U2's `Achtung Baby' -- has the resonance of a novel. Taking in poor people just trying to get by, musicians whose lives ended too early, lust, abandonment and a fated view of the world, the CD is one of the must-have records of the '90s.

And Williams brought it to the people who had been so hungry to see and hear her all these years. She played Lilith Fair, did headline shows, opened for Bob Dylan, came through again and again and again.

And now, a mere three years later, there is going to be a new Lucinda Williams CD -- on a new label. The former is called `Broken Butterflies' and will be out later in the spring.

The latter is called Lost Highway (after, of course, the Hank Williams song of the same name) and features other cool alt-country singer/songwriters such as Kim Richey and William Topley.

Those attending next week's sold-out Caravan of Dreams show will be among the very first to hear songs from the upcoming CD. Remember, this show has an early start time and a strong opener, up-and-comer Adam Carroll.

Lucinda Williams
with Adam Carroll
7 p.m. Tuesday
Caravan of Dreams
Fort Worth
$32
(817) 877-3000

Here is a newspaper review of that first tour gig at the Caravan of Dreams:

Williams captivates with 'Essence'
03/14/2001
By Matt Weitz / Special Contributor to The Dallas Morning News

FORT WORTH – "You're the first people who get to hear the new songs," Lucinda Williams announced to a sold-out and adoring crowd at Caravan of Dreams on Tuesday night, noting that this was her first appearance since the end of the tour promoting her critically acclaimed 1998 album, Car Wheels on a Gravel Road.
Fronting a brand-new band and suffering from a cold (a throat problem caused her to abort "Lake Charles" in midsong before treating the malady with a snifter of amber liquid), she nonetheless delivered a thrilling show that was worth every second of the wait, kicking things off with the lover's litany of used-to-bes "Metal Firecracker," off of Car Wheels.
Foremost on the minds of the fans, however, was the new material from Essence, which is set for release June 5. These included the sweetly melancholy "Lonely Girls," whose pretty hairdos and sparkling rhinestones cannot save them, and the fatalistic "Blue" ("You can count your blessings/I'll just count on blue").
"Are You Down" used images of rain and earth to paint a picture of a woman's refusal to take back a former lover that's elemental in its certainty and dominated by a sinuous Mark Knopfler-esque lead guitar line.
Ms. Williams seemed genuinely pleased by the crowd's boisterous approval of the moody, atmospheric song.
"I didn't know whether or not to put that on the set list," she told the wildly clapping audience. "It's like my Sade thing."
"I Envy the Wind" was another new tune, this one a sensual appreciation of the elements that touch the body of a distant lover and a perfect showcase for her languid (but far from lazy) butterscotch phrasing on slow songs.
"Reason to Cry" was a recipe for heartbreak, while the dark, momentous "Out of Touch" was about the separation of souls brought about by modern life.
Add the title track and you have what amounts to a substantial preview of Ms. Williams' impending album, but she didn't focus solely on the new.
Older established songs were there, too, such as "Right in Time," "2 Kool to Be 4-Gotten" and "Changed the Locks" – perhaps the ultimate kiss-off song.
Her band was crackerjack and kept Ms. Williams' voice aloft like a parachute harness, despite her cold and for over two hours – much longer than advertised.
On up-tempo numbers ("2 Kool") her songs moved like fields of bluebonnets flying past your car window on a spring drive; on the slow ones ("Greenville") she achieved the poignancy of a yellowed snapshot of an old love, found in the back of a drawer.
Not bad for a night of rock 'n' roll.

Matt Weitz is a Dallas free-lance writer.

A fan in Dallas sent in his personal review of the show at Caravan of Dreams:

Tue, 15 Mar 2001
From: Thomas Orange
Subject: Lucinda's great March 13th, 2001, concert at Caravan of Dreams concert, Ft. Worth, TX.

Opening set - Adam Carroll:

My friend and I arrived at the Caravan of Dreams in downtown Ft. Worth around 7:45pm. It took a little time to find a parking spot in the newly redesigned downtown area (finding the highway from downtown after the show is another similar, sad story). Adam Carroll had already played about four songs when we got there. The place is crowded, and our "obstructed view" seating isn't as bad as I'd anticipated once I squeezed into my seat. Our table, which was shared with others, was near the entrance and the bar but still afforded a full view of the stage. Adam is a one-man Texas troubadour, playing acoustic guitar and occasional harmonica. His songs are modern-day, (very) humorous white-trash narratives (rednecks taking LSD and seeing fields of flowers, and such). Some songs border on the pornographic. Others are odes to people he knows, such as "Racer Joe". But his lyrics are entertaining and he never bores the crowd. His set ends around 8:30pm.

The place has more people in it than I've ever seen. I'm lucky to have snagged up my tickets, because the show sold out very fast. All the tables in the place are filled with people. Blues music (Muddy Waters, etc.) plays on the P.A.

At around 9:30pm, Lucinda and her band walk on stage to applause. She's in good spirits and looks great. Her hair's down to her shoulders with bangs; blonde and fluffy. She's wearing red leather pants and a black shirt. She's exited, as she informs the room that we'll be the first audience to hear her new songs. She introduces her new band, which consists of Bo Ramsey on lead guitar, two other young guitarists, a tall bass player, drummer, and a keyboard/accordion player. Unfortunately, I didn't get their names. Lucinda plugged Bo and the rhythm guitarists' CDs. That said, the band strikes up the first song.

The songs were played in this order as I best recollect:

Metal Firecracker: She opens the set with this one, which sounds exactly like the CD. Bo does the guitar sound just right. And throughout the night Bo Ramsey is very entertaining to watch, with his white cowboy hat cocked down toward his eyes, and making all the right moves and sounds. He plays a mean bottleneck slide. Lucinda's voice is dead-on, and this is an excellent way to start off.

Right In Time: She follows with this one from Car Wheels as well. And it's great. Her voice fills the room. I'm not sure if her microphone's turned up a bit too much or if it's her powerful voice (maybe, a little of both). I guess her strategy is to play these two great songs first to appease the audience before she gets into the new stuff. It's a smart move and another great tune.

She tells the audience between songs, not to make too many requests because the band is brand new and might not know them. But, she promises plenty of music. She has a music stand in front of her, which has the set list. She turns a page and says, "all right, a new song".

Lonely Girls: This is a nice slow, melancholy song. A few of the new tunes are slow like this. But her voice is magic, and the song casts a spell on the audience.

Blue: Another great new (slower) song. I'll give credit to Dallas Morning News music journalist Matt Weitz for the following snippet of lyrics from this song: "You can count your blessing/ I'll just count on blue".

I Envy the Wind: This new song is in the same mode as Right In Time. Nice lyrics.

Are You Down: This new one was a real surprise. Afterwards, she talked about being hesitant to include this one in the night's set and called it "her Sade song". It sounded more like Bob Marley to me. It was definitely reggae, including a grooving bass and spiritual-like simple lyrics. But it was great, and the audience approved which really pleased her. She said the songs lyrics were simple and repetitive. That may be so, but it still worked (in concert at least).

2 Kool 2 Be 4-Gotten: I think she played this classic next. And, of course, it was perfect.

Lake Charles: Before beginning it, she said that this song was about a friend of hers from Nacogdoches. She and the band played this beautifully, but about two thirds of the way through she stopped the band because her throat was getting dry due to a recovering cold. According to Matt Weitz, whom I presume was closer than I was, she took a swig from a "snifter of amber liquid". I don't know if he implied alcohol, but I know she was drinking from a big water bottle between songs from there on out. And, was definitely not "under the influence". It was kind of unusual for a performer to just stop a song like that, but she was good-natured about it and promised to redo the song. She plugged a few of her band member's CDs while she got her throat back into shape. The audience was generally patient. After a few minutes she played the song again from the beginning, finishing it this time. There was little hint of a problem with her voice that I could tell before or after this incident.

Out of Touch: For this new one, she stated that she'd done an article for GQ or Vanity Fair magazine (I forget which one) and a reporter had interpreted this song as a lover's lament. She set the record straight by saying that this song's simply about the nature of today's society. Good song.

Changed the Locks: This was an old song that I wasn't familiar with. But it's heavy rocker with a nice groove. Matt called it the "ultimate kiss-off song".

Reason to Cry: A new one. I think it was one of her perfect slow, country-like songs.

Sometime between these songs someone at a table near the stage raised their hands. Seeing them, Lucinda responded: "Oh, you made it". And she recounts that earlier that day after sound-check, she ran into a couple of female outside the club who had no tickets and were disappointed the show was sold out. Also, one was celebrating her recent divorce. Lucinda decided this was good enough reason for them to get on the night's quest list ("not that she approved of people getting divorced, mind you").

Greenville: She introduced this one by stating that "diva" Emmy Lou Harris had accompanied her recording of this. And, this one sounded just like the CD version.

Essence: She introduced this song by saying that it will be the first single from her new CD of the same name, which she said will be released June 1st. This one's more of a mid-tempo rocker. Afterwards, she said that the single's version will "bleep" out the phrase "fucked-up" with a cool guitar sound.

Joy: This guitar tour-de-force ended the set, with her second lead guitarist ripping off a nice solo. The band really rocked out on this one. Afterwards the band heads offstage, as the crowd claps for an encore.

[Encore]

She did two encores, but I cannot remember exactly which of the below songs she played for them.

(2nd encore) Lucinda and Bo Ramsey play two or three nitty-gritty (Mississippi) Delta blues songs without the rest of the band. I'm not exactly sure what they played. Up until this point, Bo was "relatively" restrained on guitar. But he let loose some nice slide work on these songs. Afterwards, Lucinda said that we should start listening to Jessie Mae Hemphill, as well as Junior Kimbrough and R.L. Burnside (all Mississippi blues players). I already am into Mr. Burnside. And, being from Mississippi, I've heard Mr. Kimbrough as well.

Get Right with Jesus: The rest of the band comes back on stage and they play this up-tempo number, that's not quite gospel (more rock, I guess). I'm not sure if the lyrics are tongue-in-cheek or serious. But it's a good song.

Car Wheels on Gravel Road: She does this one next, with her accordion player doing the mandolin part (from the CD version).

Bus to Baton Rouge: She introduces this one as another song (like Car Wheels) that is based on her childhood. This one describes visiting her grandmother's house in Baton Rouge, La. It's okay.

Come to Me: She ends the night with this Howlin' Wolf blues cover that she says she did for a tribute CD (to Howlin' Wolf). It's a nice rocking blues song, and Bo and the keyboard player do gratuitous solos. They go on for a while on this song. But when it ends, they say good night and leave the stage.

In summary, her band is great and Lucinda's seem in top form (except for a slight recovering throat). It was nice to see this type of relaxed show, and she was very appreciative of the audience that was receptive and appreciative of everything she did. She even stated that Texas' audiences were the best. I cannot argue with her there.

Thomas Orange

From Fr. Worth, Lucinda's bus motored over to Austin, where she performed twice at South By Southwest. I was fortunate enough to be able to fly to Austin for the week & I saw both shows. Here are some notes I made:

On Wed., March 14, she did a short set at the Austin Music Hall as part of the Austin Music Awards show. Her songs were: Lonely Girls, Out Of Touch, Are You Down, Essence, & Joy.

I spoke her her after the show & she said the title of the new CD would be "Essence" and the first single would be that title song. Lucinda is a blonde again. I met her new band members on the bus, and everyone was quite pleased with the way the songs came across.

On Friday night, March 16, Lucinda did a set as part of the Lost Highway label debut show. Other artists who performed were Tift Merritt, William Topley, Kim Richey, Ryan Adams, & Robert Earl Keen. Lucinda's 52 minute set: Lonely Girls, Blue, I Envy The Wind, Out Of Touch, Are You Down, Essence, Get Right With God,
Bus To Baton Rouge, Joy.

It was a most enjoyable week in Austin. In addition to the two nights with Lucinda, I was able to see many other wonderful shows with such artists as Jimmy LaFave, Slaid Cleaves, Ray Wylie Hubbard, James Intveld, Toni Price, Billy Joe Shaver, Los Super Seven, Michael Fracasso, Alejandro Escovedo, Eliza Gilkyson, Kinky Friedman, Cornell Hurd Band, Chuck Prophet, Bill Morrissey, and an especially great appearance at the Yard Dog Gallery by Lucinda's favorite new artist Kasey Chambers, who captivated the audience with her wonderful songs & stopped the show with her rendition of Lucinda's "Changed The Locks."

We all look forward to the new CD and to Lucinda's appearances around the country.

Barry Brooks

Here is a review of Lucinda at SXSW by NME.com:

Lucinda Williams: Austin, Texas South By Southwest

Austin's South By Southwest can boast of being the world's single largest forum for live music, boozing, barbecue and schmoozing. Over the course of the five-day festival, hundreds of bands jam into the city's countless clubs as cell phones ring, publicists pitch and writers get drunk. Ostensibly a festival where new bands come to get discovered, you have to wonder what the chances of hopefuls such as Atombombpocketknife, Panoply Academy Legionnaires, and Noahlewis' Mahlon Taits have when the likes of The Cult, Ike Turner, Ryan Adams, David Byrne and Stephen Malkmus are all in town.

More than any other state in the Union, Texas likes things big, so much so that the state's diner menus frequently co-opt the word Texas as a synonym for big, offering items such as Texas omelettes and steaks (chicken fried and otherwise). The Austin Music Awards is no exception, with everyone from Austin's favorite bastard son, King Coffey of Butthole Surfers and local stalwart Bob Schneider collecting awards. In between the seemingly endless slew of plaques presented, performers such as Alejandro Escovedo, The Gourds and Lucinda Williams play abbreviated three and four song sets.

Best known for their countrified cover of 'Gin and Juice', The Gourds ignore the calls for the same, sticking to originals that range from a traditional bluegrass sound to Irish jigs.

Lucinda Williams' arrival on stage sparks a land rush towards the front, with photographers' formerly exclusive space invaded by the enthusiastic throng. Williams takes the opportunity to debut four new songs from her upcoming album due out this June, 'Essence'. Beginning with 'Lonely Girls', a melancholy musing on party girls late night doubts, Williams plays acoustic guitar and is joined by a backing band comprised of three guitars, bass, drums and a B-3 organ.

'Out Of Touch' and an unnamed, sprawling jazzy number featuring the chorus "rain turns dirt into mud" follow before Williams starts her final run. Earthy in a graceful way, Williams introduces her new album's title track with an offer to give her audience tonight a version of the song that will get bleeped or blurred by hyper-conscious FCC officials. "It's edited on the radio because it has the word the word "fuck" in it. Y'all get to hear the uncut version".

Although much of her songwriting is cleverly concise, Williams closes her set with a stretched out jam of 'Joy', giving guitar solos to her two lead players and plenty of time for the rhythm section to show off its ample bottom end. Following Williams' departure, it appears for a time that the awards won't end - but shows, even Texas shows, eventually end. For the night at least.

Colin Devenish

Lucinda's next appearance was with her father, Miller Williams, at The International Poetry Forum, Carnegie Music Hall in Pittsburgh on March 30. Here is a pre-show article in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette:

Event Preview: Williams family values
Gifted country-rocker and the 'Hank Williams of American poetry' share an evening of words, songs and Southern hospitality

Friday, March 30, 2001
By Scott Mervis, Weekend Editor, Post-Gazette

Poet Miller Williams provided his daughter with everything she would need to grow up to be one of the finest singer-songwriters of her generation. Lucinda Williams was instilled with an appreciation for poetry and language, indoctrinated with music from Hank Williams to John Coltrane and introduced to a stream of legendary writers who passed through their household.

Lucinda Williams on her record coming out in June: "I got into this writing frenzy and it didn't stop until I had it all done."

"House guests when she was growing up were people like Allen Ginsberg, John Ciardi, Johnny Cash," Miller says. "She knew Flannery O'Connor when she was a child. She lived on a farm near where we lived in Macon, Ga., and had scores of peacocks. When Lucinda was 5 and 6 she would chase her peacocks. She couldn't catch them."

Chasing Flannery O'Connor's peacocks and growing up with a father who's published 14 books of poetry and won numerous awards would tend to create expectations for a child, however young she may have been at the time. Lucinda responded, winning Grammy Awards and racking up the kind of critical acclaim for songwriting that seemed reserved for her musical heroes, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell and Leonard Cohen.

This evening, Lucinda and Miller will take the stage together for a father-daughter session at the International Poetry Forum, where they will swap songs and poetry.

"I have my book in my hand, and she has her guitar in hers," Miller says, from his home in Fayetteville, Ark., where he is a professor of English at the University of Arkansas. "We chat back and forth a bit, for the benefit of the audience. I start with a poem that I wrote when she was about 5 and she gave me the last line to. Then, she answers with a song that has some connection with our family and her childhood. We simply toss them back and forth, getting more and more into the present."

It's a casual format they've engaged in many times, but the Poetry Forum is providing a twist to the proceedings, using a backing ensemble to add arrangements to a few of Lucinda's songs and one of Miller's poems.

Oddly enough, considering he usually writes with jazz playing in the background, it will be the first time he has ever read poetry to music.

"It's interesting to me because I played clarinet and saxophone in a jazz combo. I had been on that side," he says. "But I never thought about having music behind as I read it. I have heard a tape of the piece, and I think it's going to work OK."

The Miller Williams poem getting that musical boost is called "For Lucinda, Robert and Karyn," a piece that addresses the formative years of his three children.

Lucinda & Miller Williams
WHERE: Carnegie Music Hall, Oakland.
WHEN: Tonight at 8.
TICKETS: $30, $25 and $10; 412-621-9893.

It was an unusual upbringing by any standard, peacocks and all. Lucinda was born in 1953 in Lake Charles, La., the oldest of the three, and started writing poetry in grade school. It's no wonder her first record would be called "Ramblin," because in his pursuit of tenure, Miller, who got custody after his divorce, moved the family around like nomads, stopping in New York, New Orleans, Atlanta, San Diego, Chile and Mexico City. Their transient lifestyle gave Lucinda a broad canvas for her writing, and that's reflected in the strong sense of place in her songs.

"Some may think it ironic," Miller says, "but I believe no one has a stronger sense of place than a person who has not stayed in one very long -- because a need for a recognizable, identifiable context becomes intensified when one has moved around a great deal."

"I think for me I figured it was the normal way things were," says Lucinda, talking with a sleepy Southern drawl from her home in Nashville. "I don't really remember feeling bad about it. When you're a kid, you just adjust to things. If that's what you've always done, it's not like this big traumatic thing. It might be if you lived somewhere for 10 or 15 years and built a base and then you had to move. If you start out moving every couple years, you just bounce around."

For years, Lucinda says, she carried around the line "Car wheels on a gravel road," unsure of where it belonged. It became the title track of her latest and most acclaimed record, a road song that refers to "Hank's voice on the radio," "a dusty suitcase" and concludes with her singing "Child in the backseat, about 4 or 5 years old/ Lookin' out the window/ Little bit of dirt mixed with tears/ car wheels on a gravel road." She says it didn't occur to her the line was autobiographical.

"I wrote that song and I didn't realize that I was writing about myself," she says. "[My father] said when he first read the song, that he recognized me in it. I hadn't even been aware of that. Sometimes my writing comes out in this stream-of-consciousness thing. That's why writing is such a good form of therapy. It helps sort things out, get things out of your system and down on paper."

Along with the many geographical points, Williams exposed his kids to an unusually broad mix of music when they were growing up.

"We had it around the house all the time," Lucinda says. "He was always listening to country music like Hank Williams and Loretta Lynn and a lot of jazz, Coltrane and Chet Baker. And blues, a lot of country blues like Lightning Hopkins and Mississippi John Hurt. Then I got into the folk and folk-rock stuff of the '60s like Dylan and Joni Mitchell. That was more my thing, but I think he appreciated it."

Sparked by Dylan's fusion of rock and poetry, Lucinda started playing guitar when she was 12 and just a few years later was bold enough to get up in front of her dad and his friends and play her songs. In the end, she chose the tougher musician life over the academic, dropping out of the University of Arkansas in 1971 after a brief stay.

"He didn't want me to quit school right away, like I did," Lucinda says. "I went for about a year of college and didn't continue. He was concerned maybe because he wanted me to have something to fall back on. He would have preferred if I had stayed and gotten a degree in something, 'cause it was a struggle."

Lucinda kicked around for years, working as a folk artist in New York and Austin, Texas. She recorded a pair of records for Folkways: "Ramblin," a timid collection heavy on folk and blues covers in 1979, followed by the more realized "Happy Woman Blues." In the mid-'80s she moved to Los Angeles and hooked up with a band for the first time, preparing for a rocking comeback called "Lucinda Williams," on the soon-to-be-doomed label Rough Trade, in 1988. It featured one of the most vivid and most ridiculously bitter breakup songs of all time, "Changed the Locks," along with "Passionate Kisses" and "The Night's Too Long," big hits for Mary Chapin Carpenter and Patty Loveless, respectively.

The accomplished "Sweet Old World" followed in 1992, but her masterpiece is considered to be "Car Wheels on a Gravel Road," a record with a long, troubled history. The production began in 1995 under the helm of guitarist Gurf Morlix, but Lucinda didn't like the way it turned out. A year later, Steve Earle and producer Ray Kennedy came in to revamp it, and ultimately she brought in Roy Bittan, of the E Street Band, for a final swirl of B-3 organ and accordion.

Says Williams: "It was just one of those things."

A sweltering, country/blues-drenched trip through the South, "Car Wheels" was released in 1999 to critical somersaults and a Grammy for Best Contemporary Folk Album.

"From the beginning, I've been interested in the attempts to put a label on her music," Miller says. "It's been called everything from country-rock to folk. In fact, her record won a Grammy for best folk album. 'Car Wheels on a Gravel Road' is not folk music. But they didn't know what to call it."

"Car Wheels" was packed with enough substance to sustain Lucinda fans for a good long time. As it turns out, it's not going to be another seven-year wait. Lucinda is treating us -- shocking us -- with a new record in June.

"If you had asked me back in the spring of last year if I could get a record written and recorded by the end of the year, I would have said no way," she says. " 'Cause I didn't have any of the songs finished. All of a sudden I just got into this writing frenzy and it didn't stop till I had it all done."

Recording with a bunch of guys from Dylan's band, she describes the record as being less narrative and a little more introspective and personal than the last one.

Are we to assume by the haste of this record that Lucinda isn't as big a perfectionist as we thought?

No, she laughs. "I'm still a perfectionist."

When Lucinda talks about her youthful fascination with '60s folk-rock, she says she saw the worlds of music and poetry converge.

But, she's quick to note, her father always saw them as distinct crafts.

"There was poetry," she says, "and there was songwriting."

Miller Williams is a poet. In fact, the Harvard Review would add he's "one of our finest poets." Although his academic career begin in the biological sciences -- "I only had three hours of freshman English" -- he has published 14 collections of his own work, numerous translations, textbooks and even a history of railroads. His honors include the prestigious Poet's Prize, the Amy Lowell Award for poetry, the Prix de Rome for literature of the American Academy of Arts and Letters, the New York Arts Fund Award for Significant Contribution to American Letters and the Henry Bellaman Poetry Prize. For seven years he was a member of the poetry faculty at the Bread Loaf Writers' Conference. And the journal Visions International named him one of the 20 best poets now writing in English.

In 1996, he was called to Washington to compose and read for the second inauguration of Bill Clinton.

"Of course, I was deeply honored," Miller says. "I never felt more pressure in my life than the six weeks in which I was writing that poem. Sitting there in the stands behind Billy Graham and his son, I suppose I was as nervous as I've ever been about anything. Once it was my turn to go on, I walked down and stood at the microphone, I was simply giving another reading. The fact I has reading to 240 million people had no bearing at all on the way I felt."

With all those prizes and honors, Miller sounds just as proud of what was said in a recent review.

"One critic just last year referred to me as the 'Hank Williams of American poetry.' What he meant is that anybody can understand me, I think, I hope. I deal with the nitty-gritty of things."

He refers to his poetry as an "effective illusion of natural speech." It's an element he also finds in Lucinda's songs, but in a different context.

"I don't want to confuse poetry with song lyrics," he says. "They certainly have something in common in that they both are language. Poetry has to have its rhythms and its lyricism built in. You don't have the music to tell you how fast to go, how slow to go, how high and low to go. The poetry on the page has got to have the ability to say all that to the reader, so the language of poetry has to do a lot more than the language of songwriting."

Not that he puts one above the other.

"Not at all. I'm just saying that you cannot read all song lyrics as poems because most of them need the music, because they were written like that. It's just a different kind of art form."

Despite his association with a group of poets, Miller doesn't think he belongs to any particular movement in poetry.

"I pretty much go my own way and I think Lucinda does, too," he says. "If we have anything in common, I think it would be that."

As for that line the young Lucinda added to one of his poems, Miller says, "I don't want to give away my punch line. I'll save that for the audience."

Here is another pre-event article that appeared in the Pittsburgh Tribune-Journal:

Lucinda, Miller Williams share more than blood

By Regis Behe
TRIBUNE-REVIEW - Friday, March 30, 2001

Lucinda Williams

'Poetry Sung/Poetry Said'
With Lucinda Williams and Miller Williams.
Presented by International Poetry Forum.
8 p.m. today.
Carnegie Music Hall, Oakland.
$10 to $100.
(412) 621-9893.

He is an English professor and the poet who composed and read for President Clinton's second inauguration. She is a singer and songwriter whose eclectic blend of music is almost universally admired by critics and fans.

At 70, he still is a distinguished-looking man, bespectacled and sporting a grayish goatee that is refined rather than trendy. At 48, she still has a glowing rock star patina that time has not distilled.

There would seem to be little in common between this man, who has lived most of his adult life as an academic, and this woman, who knows well the pitfalls of a musician's life. But Miller Williams and his daughter, Lucinda Williams, who appear together tonight at Carnegie Music Hall, share more than just blood.

Look at his poetry, her lyrics. They have in common a sense of wonder for the American landscape, and both use their disciplines to reveal oft-times difficult truths. But most of all, each writes with an economy of language that transforms simple words into profound observations.

Not a day goes by I don't think about you/You left your mark on me, it's permanent, a tattoo/Pierce the skin and the blood runs through.

- "Right in Time," Lucinda Williams
People have dangled like fish on hooks that were baited/by others who took their need to be inflated/and offered it back to them as promise and praise.

- "Buying and Selling," Miller Williams
"He taught me how to use words a little differently, how to edit," Lucinda Williams says of her father's guidance. "He taught me the importance of attention to detail."

"What Lucinda and I do, when we show each other our work, is ask implicitly: 'Is there a single word that could go without its absence being felt?' If it can, take it out," Miller Williams says. "Every word has got to do something to make the act of language something it would not have been without it."

The family was forged by the peripatetic nature of Miller's work. Lucinda was born in Lake Charles, La., but stops in New Orleans; Atlanta; Jackson, Miss.; Fayetteville, Ark.; Mexico City; and Santiago, Chile, followed.

Even more remarkable than the varying landscapes of their homesteads were the folks who came through the Williams' household. James Dickey, Howard Nemerov, Donald Justice, Pablo Neruda, Nicanor Parra, Charles Bukowski, Maxine Kumin and Robert Penn Warren were "simply friends who moved through our lives," Miller says, "along with Tammy Wynette and Johnny Cash. Lucinda grew up around these people. Their attitude toward the way the language works was something that was not so much a lesson as a context, a part of the environment I lived with and she grew up with."

One of Miller Williams' colleagues, however, would influence Lucinda more than the others. When she was but 4 or 5, the family visited the great Southern writer Flannery O'Connor.

"He was going to her house, and we got to go along," Lucinda says. "I just remember she had peacocks in her yard. But later, when I was 15 or 16, I threw myself into her work. I'm sure that had an effect on me."

In the presence of such literary and musical stalwarts, there was more than enough inspiration for Lucinda and her younger siblings, Robert and Karyn. As soon as she learned to write, Lucinda began creating poems, which in her teen years eventually morphed into song lyrics.

Becoming a writer, she says, was an option she considered.

"But I never pursued it. I just fell into the music side, maybe because of the times I was in. The music was so amazing and stimulating. So much of the music back then, the mid-to-late '60s when I started playing guitar and singing, incorporated poetry along with the music. Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Phil Ochs, that whole folk rock movement. And even the rock bands, like The Doors and Neil Young and Jimi Hendrix. For me, it was the best of both worlds," she says.

Like her father (who gained custody of his young children after a divorce), Lucinda Williams followed her muse across the map to Berkeley, New York, New Orleans, Austin, New York City, Los Angeles and Nashville, where she currently resides.

When asked whether her wanderings have enhanced her music, she replies: "It's hard to say. Life experience, you don't have to travel to get that. I think you can write about anything from anywhere you are."

But the daily adventures of the Williams family were different and unique, even as Miller says he doesn't have anything else with which to compare it. "I don't know what it would be if it were not like this," he says.

It might be less, it might be more. But it could be, simply, the same, a wonderful gift of poetry and music reminiscent of a few lines from Miller Williams' poem "Memory":

But what we were is much of what you are,
and what you are ... believe me when I say
that what you are is going to wear away
little by little until, to your awful surprise,
you aren't all there; you barely recognize
what's left. ...

The Essence of Lucinda Williams

Since she debuted in 1979 with "Ramblin'," Lucinda Williams has released only five albums, her most recent being "Car Wheels on a Gravel Road" in 1998. But fans won't have to wait too long for her next release: titled "Essence," it's due out June 5.

"It is a little different," Williams says. "There's not as much narrative as there was on "Car Wheels," and it's kind of liberating to get away from that a little bit. There's some stuff that will remind you of 'Car Wheels,' I guess, but it's a little more personal and introspective."

How so?

"Well, there's some love songs on it," she says with a laugh. "Songs about love and lust."

The Philosophy of Miller Williams

Miller Williams

Poet Miller Williams' style is playfully deceiving. At first read, there are no apparent overarching or great themes, and his writing can be simple. His poem "The Light in the Eyes," for instance, is a mere two lines:

Who knows
where it goes?
"I like to think the poems, as someone once said, are clear and mysterious at the same time," he says.

But there are no smoke and mirrors involved. Williams elevates his work via the use of everyday language, engaging readers by inviting them to be part of the process.

"A poem would not have universal appeal for more than just a few people if it said simply what it seems to say in black-and-white," he says. "I like a poem to begin as the poet's and end as the reader's. So, by the time the poem is over, the reader is not thinking about the author of the poem but himself or herself."

His use of language stems from the poets who influenced him: John Donne, the English metaphysical poet who lived from 1572 to 1631; and contemporary poets Howard Nemerov, John Ciardi and Elizabeth Bishop. Williams says they used not poetic language, but the language of everyday speech.

"I also learned that the line is the unit of a poem, and that a poem is not simply prose that has a ragged right margin, but that there is a compelling sense of where we break those lines," he says. "That a line of poetry is a unit of sound, sense and syntax at that same time to give the reader a compelling sense of forward motion."

Autopsy
Here in a place where much
was hated and held dear
you feel no part of yes
no matter what you touch.
There isn't a soul here,
only an empty house in a brambly lot.
But is there not a forwarding address?
No, there is not.

- From "The Ways We Touch," by Miller Williams

There were several fine reviews of that special night. The first is an online review by Wall Of Sound:

April 2, 2001

Breakup, Poet-Father Inspire Lucinda Williams

Any singer-songwriter stuck for inspiration knows there's one surefire way to get the creative juices flowing: a good old breakup.
Apparently, that's what kicked Lucinda Williams' muse into high gear. After splitting with her boyfriend and former bandmate last year, the songs started flowing like water.

"I just got lucky there," she says via telephone from her Nashville, Tenn., home. "That was a miracle. I don't know how that happened."

To her fans' delight, the result is a new album, arriving three years after her Grammy-winning Car Wheels on a Gravel Road. On June 12, Essence, a collection of classic-sounding Williams tunes — plus a few surprises — is due from Universal's new Americana boutique label, Lost Highway.

"I hadn't written anything in five years before that," she confesses. "That's what happens in life. Usually, some kind of major change will create that sort of space whereby all these songs tumble out."

Her last creative spurt of this magnitude was also caused by a breakup, plus a move from Austin to Los Angeles.

Upheaval may motivate her writing, but she credits her father with teaching her the craft itself.

Friday night in Pittsburgh, fans got to hear firsthand how well she learned her lesson. In a rare event titled "Poetry Sung … Poetry Said," Lucinda and her father, poet Miller Williams, took turns delivering verse in their respective mediums.

Williams, an English and foreign languages professor at the University of Arkansas, provided the official poem for President Clinton's 1997 inauguration.

Though she's now 48, his daughter still seeks his counsel and approval when creating lyrics.

Miller, describing what their work has in common, said, "We both tend to rely on ordinary people in the vulnerable … moments of their lives."

It's true. They share an uncanny knack for writing simple, eloquent verse full of imagery so vivid that observations of life's minutiae become moments of major significance. His poems have a sweet humanity — a gentle, conversational way of conveying love and compassion. Her songs have a confessional feel, creating a sense that she's offering full emotional exposure.

They've shared stages a few times in the past, but for this International Poetry Forum program, Lucinda also tried something she'd never done before: playing with a full orchestra, the Duquesne Wind Symphony. The student ensemble backed her on two songs; bandmate Bo Ramsey provided electric guitar and backing vocals on the rest.

After performing a lovely "Something About What Happens When We Talk," she said, "It's such an honor to have this wonderful orchestra behind me. It's so beautiful. I want to do this all the time now. I want to do a whole record like this."

Of the 11 selections she performed, four were from Essence. One of them, "Get Right With God," will likely be a highlight. She described the slithery, bayou-influenced tune as a song about her fascination with Pentacostal rituals like snake handling as a means of getting into heaven.

After her first offering, a lovely "Car Wheels on a Gravel Road," her dad commented that, when he heads toward heaven, "If there is a moment when one's standing before St. Peter and he says, 'Why should I let you in here?' I'm going to say, 'I read my poems between Lucinda's songs.'"

Later, after she delivered two lyrical masterpieces — "Sweet Old World" and "Joy" — he said proudly, "It's wonderful to have a daughter who's hard to follow."

As she smiled at him from across the stage, she made it clear the feeling was mutual. — Lynne Margolis

Here is another online review by Virgin Megastore:

Lucinda Williams' Family Affair

Lucinda Williams doesn't talk like the daughter of an English professor; her plain-spoken drawl almost has more twang than her acoustic guitar. But when she shared the Carnegie Music Hall stage with Miller Williams Friday night (3/30) during an event titled “Poetry Sung … Poetry Said,” there was no mistaking where she got her phrase-twisting skill. She inherited it from her dad, a University of Arkansas faculty member and the poet President Clinton asked to provide verse for his 1997 inaugural.

The audience responded warmly to the humor, compassion and love in Miller's homespun-sounding observations. When Lucinda followed each poem with a song, accompanied by bandmate Bo Ramsey on electric guitar and harmony, the applause was loud and enthusiastic. Her 11 tunes included four from her upcoming album, Essence (June 12). One of them, “I Envy the Wind,” was among the two songs she performed with the Duquesne (University) Wind Symphony.

“It's such an honor to have this wonderful orchestra behind me,” she said, beaming, after delivering a lovely “Something About What Happens When We Talk.” “I've never done this before. It's so beautiful. I want to do this all the time now. I wanna do a whole record like this.”

After Miller read “A Poem for Emily,” about his granddaughter's first day of life (its last line the simple declaration, “I stood and loved you/while you slept”), Lucinda said, “You can see where I learned everything I know.”

When she did her mournful masterpiece, “Sweet Old World,” and spat out her demanding “Joy” (“You took my joy/I want it back!”), her father said proudly, “It's wonderful to have a daughter who's hard to follow.”

Earlier, he joked that, when he heads toward heaven, if St. Peter asks, “‘Why should I let you in here?' I'm going to say, ‘I read my poems between Lucinda's songs.'” As she smiled and basked in her father's approval, the feeling clearly was mutual.

- Lynne Margolis
April 3, 2001

And another from Rolling Stone.com:

Lucinda, Dad Share Stage

The Williams meld poetry and music in Pittsburgh

Little angel

Lucinda Williams apparently didn't pick up her twangy drawl from her dad, Miller Williams. But Friday night at Pittsburgh's Carnegie Music Hall, the University of Arkansas professor supplied plenty of evidence as to where his daughter got her lyric-slinging ability: It's genetic.
Lucinda and her original poetry man -- chosen by President Clinton to provide the poem for his 1997 inauguration -- took turns delivering verse in their respective mediums at a one-off event titled "Poetry Sung . . . Poetry Said."

The pair have shared stages a few times in the past, but for this International Poetry Forum program, Lucinda also tried something she'd never done before: playing with a full orchestra, the Duquesne Wind Symphony. The student ensemble backed her on two songs.

"It's such an honor, I have to say it, to have this wonderful orchestra behind me," she said, beaming, after performing a lovely "Something About What Happens When We Talk." "It's so beautiful. I want to do this all the time now. I wanna do a whole record like this."

But Williams has to get her new one, Essence, first, and promised the audience that would happen on June 12th. So she provided several samples from it, standing as she played acoustic guitar while her band mate Bo Ramsey played electric. Her voice, so expressive and clear, sounded much better than it did a couple of weeks earlier at an Austin, Texas, performance, and the songs, stripped to their own essence, did too. A likely highlight of the new disc will be the slithery, bayou-influenced "Get Right With God," which she described as a song about her fascination with Pentecostal rituals like snake-handling as a means of getting into heaven.

Leaving her cowboy hat behind for the occasion, Lucinda wore snakeskin-patterned pants and a black blazer, her now frosty-blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders. Miller, looking classically professorial with his glasses, white beard and ring of white hair, recited from a podium, then sat onstage while she played, his finger holding his place in the slim volume from which he read.

As she played her first tune, a pure and sweet version of "Car Wheels on a Gravel Road." Lucinda swayed and occasionally clicked her heel on the floorboards to keep time while Ramsey provided guitar and vocal accompaniment.

Her dad then commented that, when he heads toward heaven, "if there is a moment when one's standing before St. Peter and he says, 'Why should I let you in here?' I'm going to say, 'I read my poems between Lucinda's songs.'"

It was that kind of night. A clearly proud Miller and his first-born, still glad to have his approval even at age forty-eight, constantly traded glances and smiles. After he read "A Poem for Emily," about his granddaughter's (and her niece's) first day of life, his daughter said, "You can see where I learned everything I know."

Introducing that poem, Miller said he's sometimes asked what their work has in common. His answer: "We both tend to rely on ordinary people in the vulnerable . . . moments of their lives."

It's true. They share an uncanny knack for writing simple, eloquent verse full of imagery so vivid, observations of life's minutiae become moments of major significance. His poems have a sweet humanity, a gentle, conversational way of conveying love and compassion. Her songs have a confessional feel, creating a sense that she's offering full emotional exposure -- raw or not. And though she has said that writing lyrics is quite different from writing poetry, she still gets advice on works in progress from her English professor pop. If the result is a line like "I see you now at the piano, your back a slow curve," from "Little Angel, Little Brother," one might suspect he's imparting some magical power that transcends mere wisdom.

In one of many laugh-inducing moments, Lucinda informed the audience that her brother, Robert, is indeed alive and well. People ask, she said, because of the lyric, "Curled up on the back seat, parked outside of a bar, an empty bottle at your feet." "He wasn't dead, he was dead drunk," she cracked.

While Lucinda's humor generally doesn't show up her songs, many of her father's poems carry tones of wry bemusement.

Introducing "71 South," he said it was about "the kinship that we feel to other creatures when we realize that they have purpose in their lives." The four-line verse is about a squirrel that gets hit by a truck.

His poems also can be quite touching. In one about his grandson, he recited the lines, "This arm that never threw a ball far enough to make a team/If more than nine came out to play/Threw one into your hands today/From merely sixty years away." It drew a collective "awww" from the audience.

Her lyrical masterpiece is "Sweet Old World," a song about suicide that's so powerful, it can bring on tears. After she did that one and her other showstopper, the biting, fierce "Joy" ("You took my joy/I want it back!"), her father said proudly, "It's wonderful to have a daughter who's hard to follow."

She might have said the same about him.

LYNNE MARGOLIS
(April 2, 2001)

Lucinda's new label, Lost Highway, was the subject of the following article in the New York Daily News:

Getting Back to Its Roots
Country that digs deeper than Nashville glam

By JIM FARBER

Country music wasn't always obsessed with Shania Twain's bellybutton and Faith Hill's haircuts. It used to focus on less superficial matters, like Appalachian twangs and yearning blues. It had folky flaws, weepy guitars and an unruly passion that eventually got trampled in the rush to turn Nashville into one big Garth Brooks theme park.

Lucinda Williams

But now, American roots music is starting to reassert itself. Over the last two months, the soundtrack to "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" which updates country sounds from the '30s and '40s, has shocked observers by selling nearly 1 million copies, cracking the Top 15 of Billboard's Pop Album list in the process. The rootsy singer Shelby Lynne swiped this year's Best New Artist Grammy from far more popular stars, such as Jill Scott and Sisqo. And a new label, Lost Highway, was recently launched to bring a whole wave of pure American music to a wider fan base.

"There's a big, disenfranchised audience out there that the mass media isn't targeting," said Luke Lewis, who heads up Lost Highway Records, as well as Mercury/Nashville (ironically, the company behind Twain). "That's the audience we're going for."

Steve Earle

Lost Highway is signing artists who have already established cult followings with a brand of music variously tagged "Americana," "alt-country" or "No Depression." (That last title comes from an old Carter Family folk lyric: "There's no depression in heaven.") So far, the label has signed such critically acclaimed stars as Lucinda Williams, Ryan Adams, Robert Earle Keen and Kim Richey. Among other Americana artists are Steve Earle, Gillian Welch, Whiskeytown and Wilco (see sidebar).

As so broad a list implies, Americana is less a style than a sensibility — a singer-songwriter-oriented fusion of country, rock, folk and blues. "I've been tempted to sign a rap act, just to avoid having these artists stigmatized by a single term," Lewis said with a laugh.

Lewis has bigger challenges than what to call the stuff. Industry insiders feel this music isn't about to overtake stars like the Dixie Chicks anytime soon. Grant Alden, who edits No Depression, a magazine that has covered this music for five years, said "We're regularly teased by events (like the 'O Brother' success), so I'm careful not to become too bold in my hope."

Alden only allows that the genre "can be bigger than it is now. Many of these records only sell between 5,000 and 30,000 records. I think those numbers could be doubled. I think the midlevel artists could go from 60,000 to 100,000. And a Steve Earle or John Prine could go from 100,000 to 250,000, or even go gold with a strong release."

Those figures wouldn't impress most major labels, but they jibe with Lewis' modest game plan. He says he's not out to turn these artists into pop stars, but prefers to let them follow their muses wherever they roam. And he doesn't expect any help from music's usual biggest booster. "We mean to function without relying on radio airplay," he said.

That's realistic, since only 88 of America's 11,000 stations specialize in the Adult Album Alternative format that supports this music. To make radio an even tougher sell, country has only one tight format, unlike rock, which divides into several. So Lewis is targeting those listeners country radio has missed: mostly men. "Country radio has been engineered for twenty- to thirtysomething females," Alden explained, referring to the market country stations' advertisers seek.

SLEEPING DESIRE

Lost Highway plans to put its emphasis on grass-roots marketing, while building up the artists' already strong live followings. Alden and others believe the music could appeal to an underserved pool of well-educated, affluent listeners. "Most of the people who would like this music don't know it exists," he said. "It's a sleeping desire."

That's something even mainstream country could use right now. Due to declining ratings, the number of country radio stations has fallen in the last four years, from 2,484 to 2,291. And, according to a new survey by the Recording Industry Association of America, country album sales have dipped, sinking the genre from the nation's second most popular (behind rock) to the third (after hip hop).

In the '70s, mainstream country got a boost from ornery "outlaw" artists — such as Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson — who symbolized the Americana spirit. To help things along this time, Lost Highway has acquired some powerful allies: Island/Def Jam will provide marketing muscle and the Universal Music Group will offer distribution.

Lewis's aim is simply to expose good artists and bring country music fresh blood. "Mainstream country makes the most shiny, perfect records, which in the end is pretty boring," he said. "For all those people who are turned off by that, who don't buy records like they used to, I believe they would buy this stuff if they could only hear it."

STARS OF AMERICANA

Steve Earle
The godfather of the genre, Earle mixes the outlaw spirit of Waylon Jennings, the introspection of Guy Clark, the kick of the Stones and the twang of Bill Monroe. In short, this 45-year-old does it all. His best rock effort? "I Feel Alright." His best folk? "Train a Comin.'" And if you want bluegrass, listen to "The Mountain," with the Del McCoury Band.

Lucinda Williams
Williams' wobbly vibrato is charged with so much emotion, she sounds as if she's going to burst into tears at any moment. Her writing, though, is controlled and precise. Mixing blues, rock and folk, her gorgeous music comes closer to early Bonnie Raitt than vintage Loretta Lynn. Chase down "Lucinda Williams," which has the classic "Passionate Kisses," and her commercial breakthrough, "Car Wheels on a Gravel Road," the hands-down best album of 1998.

Gillian Welch
They don't come more rural than Welch. Although she was born in L.A. 34 years ago, the singer sounds as though she came straight out of a Depression dustbowl. Her parched arrangements and haunting songs on the great "Hell Among the Yearlings" make her Americana's most austere star.

Whiskeytown
North Carolina's Ryan Adams has written enough cry-in-your-beer songs to drain a tavern. He sounds like Steve Earle's illegitimate son on his wonderful albums with his band Whiskeytown, such as the 1996 debut "Faithless Street." But he's even more affecting on his solo bow, last fall's "Heartbreak," a nonstop document of a dead-end love.

Old 97's
Call their sound country-grunge. The Dallas-based foursome play fuzz-toned rock with a Southern lilt. Best is their first major-label effort, 1999's "Fight Songs."

Uncle Tupelo
The title of their must-own 1990 debut LP echoes alterna-country's slogan: "No Depression." Much like their '60s country-rock ancestors Buffalo Springfield, Uncle Tupelo had too much talent for one band and split into the following pair:

Wilco
Country meets power pop in the super-catchy songs of Wilco. Leader Jeff Tweedy formed the band in '94 from the ashes of Uncle Tupelo. Their 1995 debut, "A.M.," has proved their most appealing so far. But don't miss their two albums with Billy Bragg, with whom they wrote music for lyrics left by Woody Guthrie.

Son Volt
Led by Jay Farrar, once of Uncle Tupelo, Son Volt features a moodier, softer sound than Wilco's. Check out the band's wan, sad style on 1995's "Trace."

The Jayhawks
One of the longest-lasting Americana bands, Minneapolis' Jayhawks take as much inspiration from the perky jangle-pop of early Byrds as they do from C&W touchstone Gram Parsons (himself briefly a member of the Byrds). Blessed with several good songwriters, the band has made such strong records as 1989's "Blue Earth."

Robbie Fulks
Chicago-based 38-year-old Fulks is Americana's punchline king, with songs like "She Took a Lot of Pills and Died" and "F--k This Town." Yet in the tradition of Nick Lowe, he also writes great melodies and infuses them with enough feeling to make his songs more than just jokes.

Shelby Lynne
This year's Grammy winner for Best New Artist has released no fewer than six under-the-radar albums. Her latest, "I Am Shelby Lynne," is as forthright as its title, showcasing a rock-hard sensibility and a soaring country-blues voice.

Robert Earl Keen
One of the prime movers of Austin's alternative-music scene, Keen blends vividly witty lyrics with Texas outlaw music, descended straight from artists like Joe Ely and Waylon Jennings. "A Bigger Piece of Sky" provided a highlight in '93.

Iris Dement
Arkansas-born Dement has a wily warble of a voice, full of quirks that ripple over her brand of folk and gospel. Her heartfelt sound emerged full-born on her debut, 1992's "Infamous Angel."

Original Publication Date: 4/1/01

Rolling Stone Magazine had a preview article on the new "Essence" CD in their issue of May 10, 2001, and the latest issue (May 24, 2001) has the official review which gets 3 & 1/2 stars.

The upcoming issue of No Depression Magazine dated May-June 2001 will have a cover story on Lucinda, with a gallery of photos.

Lucinda will be contributing to a forthcoming tribute CD to Mississippi John Hurt titled "Avalon Blues" & she will also contribute a song to an upcoming tribute CD to Hank Williams.

A Lucinda fan sent the following personal review of his advance copy of "Essence":

From: Jon Rhein
Date: 27Apr01
Subject: Essence CD

Hey folks,

Just received an Advance copy of 'Essence', and I'm on the 2nd to last song right now on my first listen through. (Needless to say, I will be buying the commercial release as well--Lucinda has the right to and deserves the sales!)

The album is not good.

It is great!

The most immediately striking thing about it, as a first impression, is that many of the songs are intensely personal, and intensely beautiful. The production on the album is on some ways very simple I want to say, but beyond that, it is very subtle. It has a very organic, intimate sound, yet there is enough subtlety and complexity in the production so that you would not mistake these for demos. It is as unlike 'Car Wheels' as one could imagine. And as much as I like that album, this is a good thing. It sounds nothing, to me, like the last three records. The majority of the songs are much more mellow than on previous albums, though there are exceptions--Out of Touch, Essence, and Get Right With God come to mind. The other 8 tracks are pretty 'slow' songs, and very beautiful, IMO. CD just ended, and I've restarted it :-)

Lucinda's voice is in fine form, if possible even more expressive than I've heard her before. All the songs are written by Lucinda. Produced by Charlie Sexton and Lucinda Williams. Basic tracks produced by Bo Ramsey. Co-produced by Tom Tucker.

That's about all I have to say after a single listen.

Best wishes,

Jon Rhein

Here is the RollingStone.com review of Lucinda's gig April 30 at Antone's in Austin, Texas:

Lucinda Stirs Up Texas Heat
Williams gets down to the essence of desire live

From a distance -- that is, from the middle of the crowded floor of Austin's Antone's looking up into the VIP section -- she looked a little like today's Madonna: straw cowboy hat, black tank top, crimson satin pants, ironic heavy metal salute down to the little people below and all. A few minutes later and she was downstairs, onstage, the illusion blown. Up close, there's no mistaking Lucinda Williams for the Material Girl. Part of it's as simple as recognizing the difference between the Real Thing and trendy Western Chic, but it has just as much to do with the fact that Madonna -- coffee table Sex book and all -- has yet to tap into that truly frightening carnal mojo that Lucinda seems to exhale as naturally as carbon dioxide.
That carnality is the essence of Lucinda, the raw power that drives her songs on both album and in performance. Sure, the poetry factors in -- her spell wouldn't be half as wicked if not for the depth and beauty of her songwriting -- but when it comes right down to it, it's the voice that gooses you, makes you feel a little too uncomfortable in a room packed with strangers. And it needn't be wrapped around a lyric as writhing as "I lie on my back and moan at the ceiling" ("Right in Time") or "come on and let me taste your stuff" ("Essence") to have that effect either. The naked sensuality is there even in a hellfire and damnation gospel tune like "Get Right With God," wherein she pledges to "kiss the diamond back" and burn the soles of her feet and palms off her hand to win the favor of her maker. One way or another, it all boils down to desire.

For Monday night's Austin gig, the second stop on her new tour after a Saturday night kick-off at the venerable Gruene Hall in nearby New Braunfels, Texas), Williams and her band stuck hard and fast by her new material, playing all but two of the songs from her forthcoming Essence album and a smattering of tunes from 1998's acclaimed Car Wheels on a Gravel Road. "You gotta be proud of your roots," she exclaimed early on, but would dig only deep enough into her catalog to turn over a pair of menacing rockers ("Changed the Locks" and "Joy") and a pair of blues covers (including the closing X-rated Howlin' Wolf come-on, "Come to Me Baby").

Not that the crowd -- many of whom already seemed familiar with the unreleased material -- seemed to mind. This was a lovefest from beginning to end, and Williams responded in kind, grinning the whole way through like a giddy birthday girl as she gave props to Austin as the town where she got her start. "This is so much fun," she gushed halfway through, just before a climactic "Joy" and a brief intermission. "We're going to walk off the stage and do whatever -- and then we're going to come back!" she said playfully. "Go smoke a joint or something . . ."

Stylistically, the set moved in two primary gears: slow burning ache and decibel-searing electric roar. Most of the former came from the Essence selections, beginning with the quiet yearning of "Lonely Girls" and running through the similar low-key "Blue," "I Envy the Wind" and "Reason to Cry," a straight-up country waltz Williams dedicated to club owner Clifford Antone, currently serving jail time for a drug sentence. "We need to outlaw George Bush and legalize marijuana," she said for an easy whoop of approval. It took three or four songs into the set before her voice cracked just right and the band locked into place, with the opening "Metal Firecracker" and "Right in Time" -- two of Car Wheels' stand-outs -- sacrificed as warm-up material. By the time the new "Are You Down" came along, though, the gloves were off. As the band -- anchored by lead guitarist Bo Ramsey and keyboardist Michael Ramos -- stirred the song's serpentine, liquid groove, Williams put her guitar aside and dropped acid lines like "Nothin' will make me take you back/Are you down babe, down with that?" like honeyed strychnine. "Changed the Locks" and "Joy" were even deadlier, served up on deadly sheets of razor-sharp, serrated guitar. It all came together, appropriately, with "Essence," the new album's title track. Given the quieter tone of the rest of the album, it's a tease of a lead single, but also the type of song destined to usurp "Passionate Kisses" as Williams' calling card. The studio cut is just under six minutes of rabid lust gnawing on a frayed leash. Live, it's a full-on sexual tempest. Long before Williams rasped the line, "Make me wonder who's in charge," there wasn't a doubt in the house.

RICHARD SKANSE
(May 2, 2001)

A devoted fan just e-mailed his personal review of Lucinda's show at the Gypsy Tea Room in Dallas. Thank you very much, Thomas!!

From: Thomas Orange
Date: 2May01
Subject: Lucinda at Gypsy Tea Room, Dallas

Opener - Michael Fracasso:

There's not too many people in the Gypsy Tea Room when we arrive around 9:15pm. It's a spacious room with a big bar, a stage for the performers, and a floor for the viewers. By the time Austin-based Michael Fracasso and his
band begin, there's still not a big crowd. But by the end of his fifty minute (or so) set, the place begins filling up. We're very close to the stage, and claim the spot most of the night.

Michael Fracasso is a very good singer song-writer. His songs all are muscically executed well, and all have catchy arrangements. His lead guitar player (whose name I did not catch) is exceptional. At one point, KERA radio station's Abbie Goldstein offers Michael a one dollar bill to play a song request. He smiles, plays the song, and pockets the dollar. At the end of the set (around 10:30pm) he flashes a five dollar bill that someone else gave
him. I'm kinda kicking myself for not remembering to buy his CD, which his crew was selling somewhere in the bar. He's good, and I'm definitely going to get out his CDs. By now the place is getting crowded, anticipating the
headliner.

Lucinda Williams:

At around 11:15pm, Mike Snider goes on stage introducing Lucinda (who's played there before) as a performer that "we, in Texas, claim as our own". Lucinda and her band then walk on stage to applause. Her hair's different
from when I saw her six weeks ago at the Caravan of Dreams in Ft. Worth. It's the classic Lucinda look: straight blond hair, cut above the shoulders. She's wearing a white cowboy hat, blue jeans, and sleeve-less baby-blue top.

Her new band is basically the same as before, though she's shy one person. Since I was rather brain-dead at this concert, I cannot verify the second guitarist's name (I think it's still Billy Watts, but with a shorter hair-cut).

The band:

Lucinda Williams, lead vocals, guitar
Bo Ramsey, guitar & vocals
Billy Watts, guitar & vocals
Michael Ramos, keyboards, B-3, accordion
Taras Prodaniuk, bass
Don Heffington, drums

Lucinda's set list:

Metal Firecracker: She gets down to business opening the set with this wonderful classic, sounding exactly like the CD. Lucinda's voice is great (no recovering flu bug this time). She looks very focussed tonight. Maybe even a bit tired. Perhaps because she's played the last two nights and is in the midst of a grueling road schedule. But in no way (shape or form) am I implying that she's not in top form, because she is. The crowd loves her, cheering their approval.

Right In Time: She follows with this one from Car Wheels as well. And it's great.

Lonely Girls: This starts a series of songs from her new Essence CD. It's a great slow, melancholy country song. The latest issue of Rolling Stone magazine gives Essence three and one-half stars, chiding her for "failing to
secure any kind of emotional or narrative center." Not having heard the unreleased CD yet, but having heard this song in concert, I don't understand what that magazine's reviewer's beef is. This is the second time I've heard this song, and it's as good as anything she's ever done.

Blue: Another great new slow song.

Out of Touch: The band does a better job with this one tonight than before. They really lean into the music of this rocker. It's a very cool song.

I Envy the Wind: Still another beautiful Lucinda slower song.

Are You Down: I love this song. It sounds very reggae to me. Maybe it has more of a rhythmic groove to it this time around. But I still think Bob Marley could have done this. It's so good in concert, and the crowd loves it. Afterwards, Lucinda states that every audience she's played it to likes it and that surprises her. But it's the rhythm and simplicity; that does it.

2 Kool 2 Be 4-Gotten: This classic is always great, and she does it again just super.

Reason to Cry: Another new perfect slow country song.

Changed the Locks: I just love this song, with its hard-rocking, slamming groove. I wish she would have included it on her new CD, and I'm searching for a copy of it on the Internet (Napster, anyone?). She introduces the song by saying that Tom Petty had covered it. But with all due respect to Tom, Lucinda's killer live version CANNOT be beat. Both Bo and the other guitarist jam out on this, sounding like the Rolling Stones.

Essence: She plays this new rocker next, which will be her new single.

Joy: Before starting the song she announces that this is the end of the set, but "if you want us to, we'll play an encore". I don't think anyone in the place left after this song completed (so I really do think the crowd wanted
more). Both guitarists swap Stonesy blues licks like Keith Richards and Ron Wood on this killer rocker. Oh yes, life is good. The band takes a slight break, while I take one too.

[Encore]

Drunken Angel: She introduces this song by stating that it was written about her friend, the late Austin musician Blaze Foley. She didn't do this one at her Caravan concert, though many fans requested it. So I guess she decided
to put it back in her set. It's wonderful. People are dancing to it in back.

Lake Charles: She plays this beautiful classic next.

Blues song (Ramblin' Woman Blues)??? She does this Mississippi Delta blues style song, which I think she said was by Jessie Mae Hemphill. She also played this at the Caravan. I'm unsure of it's title, but it's great.

Get Right with God: She does this new up-tempo Gospel-country-rocker next.

Bus to Baton Rouge: This is another new one, based on her childhood. People are slow dancing with one another and I'm in a back booth making out with my date. Hey, our feet got tired from standing so long in front of the stage; give me a break.

Come to Me Baby: She ends the night with this great Howlin' Wolf blues cover. Well let's put it this way, it was after 1:00am and I was dead tired and needed to leave. I hate to say it but I walked out as Lucinda was finalizing the song (shame on me), but I ain't as young as I used to be. I thought that one was probably her last, but if she played more songs please let someone else set the record straight.

This just in: Lucinda is scheduled to appear on "Late Night With David Letterman" on Monday June 4th!
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