The older I become, the more months move like minutes. In a blink, winter blooms into spring, spring seeds the summer, and summer stumbles into a fall that tumbles into winter yet again. On Wednesday, to transition into something more specific, Diane and I drove to Greensboro, a 70-minute ride from our front door, with the soundtrack primarily powered by SiriusXM’s Smokey’s Soul Town channel. 70s on 7, 60s Gold, the classic country found on Willie’s Roadhouse, and The Groove—which plays the R&B of the 1980s—are among my other presets (though, oddly, 80s on 8 is not); other days, other rides, find us driving down the memory lanes they pave. The songs lead to memories, the memories lead to more, and soon we’re remembering life beyond the music—from loved ones since departed to the places we once called home.
The weird thing is, for me, it’s a process that’s yet to stop. Songs continually burrow into my hippocampus (aka the brain’s longterm storage center) and attach themselves to moments in time. From tunes by First Aid Kit to Courtney Marie Andrews to Chris Canterbury to Kelsey Waldon to so many others (and I feel bad in leaving them out), my internal card catalog system is stuffed with sonic reminders.
North Carolina-based singer-songwriter Julia Golden’s Everywhere I’ve Been EP is a new entry. Although released in April, I first became aware of it last week; it has the feel of a decades-old favorite. Though young, she possesses an old soul, crafting cool sounds that conjure the wide-open country of the 1990s while retaining a contemporary flair. (And craft them she does: she wrote all the songs sans collaborators.) “Rearview,” the opening track, is a good example; it captures the angst and sorrow of parting ways, of watching as someone you imagined would always be with you leaves you behind.
“One of Those Days” injects a little levity into the proceedings, recounting a day when everything goes wrong. “What You Don’t Hear,” on the other hand, digs into the three sides of a romantic breakup: his, hers, and the truth. “Smoking Gun” is a shotgun blast directed at so-called pickup artists—who Golden routinely sees in the bars she plays—by imagining them heading home with a woman who has murder on her mind.
“Talking to Heaven” is a remarkably evocative song about faith, sin and forgiveness, about feeling unworthy of His grace: “And how do I tell the savior/That his blessings are my curse?/I find it hard to cherish graces/I know damn well I don’t deserve.” It’s a feeling, I think, most everyone has experienced a time or two.
In similar fashion, the autobiographical title track—which closes the six-song EP—is sure to spur reminders of similar roads we’ve all traveled. In one blink, I see the notches in the basement doorway that my mother made when tracking my growth. In another, I see the sandy environs that were the playground of my youth. Whether 60 or 7000 miles, it doesn’t much matter; we carry the memories with us, always.
Life is often unkempt, complicated and congested, with worries and concerns keeping us up at night. (To an extent, regardless of season, we’re all hoping to make it through December.) Yet, plenty of good occurs, too. The songs of Everywhere I’ve Been serve as artful signposts for this moment in time. They’re well worth many plays.
The Old Grey Cat 