Country Roads

This week's all country - and highly enjoyable - American Idol finale got me thinking about how I broke through into appreciation of the genre. As a youngster I just didn't get it, and never owned a bone fide country album until well beyond university. I suppose singers I really admired who were obviously country influenced took me closer - like bits of Springsteen here and there - and Dylan, of course, and the Stones in mellower moments. And I kept company with a few guys at university who were real fans so I'd come to some understanding of the power of names like Emmylou Harris and James Burton. I remember going along to a Mike Nesmith gig (yes, he of Monkees fame, latterly a fine solo artist with a distinct country bent) at Sheffield University's Student Union with a bunch of rabid fans from Liverpool of all places. Very pleasant, but hardly earth-shaking.

But the killer for me was Elvis Costello's Almost Blue. The penny dropped. Sometimes you don't need to be too clever. Sometimes the feeling's enough. And having a good year for the roses is one of the fundamentals of this life.