I make an effort to get into new music. I have a favorite country music website that I pull up every morning ~ 99.9% of the artists featured I've never heard of, but if there's a video embedded I'll give it a go. Sadly, most of the tracks sound to me like bad Yellowstone background music (Do people really like that music? It's all about punching cows and how much the cowboy singer loves his horse.) I ~ a music lover ~ find myself fast-forwarding through those scenes.

But online commenters rave about these soundalikes. To me, the music lacks heft. It's basically an acoustic guitar strum-strum-strumming. No beat, no steel; maybe a lone fiddler crying out in the wilderness. I'm not a folky person. That's not country, not the country I know.

There's a reason why the nineties (especially), and the eighties, and (yep!) the seventies resonate, and it's not "old fogey-ism". 

I'll say it: The music was just better. 

Abandon, joy, heartache.

I don't read poetry. Poetry is nice and all; I hear college professors are big poetry readers. I, however, am a working girl. If I'm having a bad work day, which most work days are, I'm not going to whip out a copy of Penelope Penderfall's latest work; I'm gonna crank up my stereo and let the Ace in the Hole band or Pete Anderson swamp my eardrums, pulse my muscles; skitter across my synapses. That makes me feel better. I don't want to meditate ~ I want to forget.

I won't stop trying to fold new music inside my soul. I haven't had any luck yet, but it could happen. 

If it doesn't? Well, maybe I already have all the music I need.