Gotta like love stories. I do. So I think today I’ll tell
one.
Once upon a time there was a session musician named Pete. Pete,
while hanging out at the Continental Club in Austin, Texas, met
Maura. Instant karma. Within twenty-four hours they had written a
song together, and that’s like being practically engaged in some
circles.
At any rate, Pete soon left to go to Telluride, Colorado, where
he was playing in folk legend Nanci Griffith’s band. Maura liked
Pete. Maura called Pete after the show. Maura and Pete agreed to
meet in Lubbock, Texas, which was halfway between Austin and
Telluride (which, incidentally, should show you how damned big
Texas is — but I digress. Pete and Maura went to Buddy Holly’s
grave for their first date, thereby proving they knew romance when
they saw it, and in this case it was made of granite and had Buddy
Holly’s name spelled right (Holley, of course). From such fairy
tale beginnings came the acoustic-guitar-pop duo The Kennedys, who,
not incidentally, are a darned fine couple of musicians and the
proud momma and poppa of their new CD,
Stand.
Patently refusing to be considered ‘folkies,’ The Kennedys are
more the kind of singer-songwriters who hang out at open mike
nights and coffeehouses. The difference between The Kennedys and
most of these people is that the Kennedys have oodles and scads of
talent. Chiming guitars and catchy melodies get served up neatly by
Maura Kennedy’s wonderful, wonderful voice and Pete Kennedy’s
wistful harmonies. Kennedys’ songs get stuck in your head and will
not, will not, will not get out, to the point where you will find
yourself singing them in the grocery store and getting weird looks
because you can only remember half the words. (This would be funny,
except that it’s true.)
The strength of such music is in the songs, and
Stand does not disappoint. We have “Dharma Café,” a
story of one of those open-mike people with talent; the bright and
idealistic “Stand”; “Dance Around In The Rain,” a joyous paean to
blowing off some steam; the thought-provoking “When I Go”; and the
fairy-tale-with-a-twist magic of “Anna And The Magic Gown.” By far,
however, the crown jewel of what is a pretty high-value set is
“Raindrop,” a truly elegant condensation of the cycle of life,
death, rebirth, and rainfall. (That, in case anyone is concerned,
is the one I was singing in Aisle 7.)
On
Stand, The Kennedys prove themselves to be some of the best
pure musicians — and magicians — I’ve had the privilege to
discover in a long time. Don’t miss them.
