Letter From America #3 – Final thoughts from Nashville
Everything seems to happen slowly here. It’s as if there is time, and then there’s Tennessee time. It might be something to do with the heat; it slows you down. Or at least, walking slowly conserves your energy. I have yet to see someone here running for a bus. Or it might be that you get used to having to wait a full fifteen minutes for a slow-moving train to cross your path, and there’s nothing you can do about it. This opportunity to fully consider things is evident in much of the songwriting that I’ve come across in the last two weeks. No observation is rushed, no word is wasted. The songs are as matured as the local bourbon.