by Geoff Harrington, West Chester, PA

I was deeply honored when my winery, Smithbridge Cellars, was selected by WXPN in 2002 to provide a red and a white wine for the 10th Anniversary Celebration of the World Cafe. On a whim, I asked my XPN ad rep if she could help me get tickets to the sold out show of my favorite artist, Lucinda Williams, at the Theatre of the Living Arts. I was thrilled when they were provided at no charge.

As Williams fans go, I was a latecomer, having discovered her through XPN in 1999 or 2000. I’d cursed the fact that I’d missed her at 1998’s Singer-Songwriter Festival. For two solid years, “Car wheels on a Gravel Road” had been my constant companion during commutes to my day job and on business trips around the country. Its crystal-clear guitars and Williams’ husky but delicate southern-accented vocals, sometimes plaintive, other times exultant, and often wistfully depressing, had touched my soul deeply. Her music gave me strength on my own struggles with life. She truly had taken up the country rock mantel that the Stones cast aside after “Exile” and had carried it to places other artists could only dream of going.

It was a hot summer evening, July 21, when I stood along South Street with my wife Fran, waiting for the doors to open. We were among a few lucky fans to grab seats along the edge of the TLA’s raised bar. I loved the laid back vibe of Chuck Profit’s show and then grew excited as the lighting of candles signaled the impending arrival of the Queen of Roots Music. Suddenly she was there, belting out “Drunken Angel”, sounding better than the record, her band led by Doug Pettibone, reproducing all the licks and sonics I’d come to love on “Car Wheels.” I began to feel caught up by the magic of her performance and by the sheer joy of seeing her in front of me, live and vibrant.

By the time Lucinda began the third song, “I Lost It”, I did just that. Tears began rolling uncontrollably down my face and I fought to keep myself from sobbing. I was totally unprepared for that catharsis. Although I’d played drums since childhood, dabbled in guitar and harmonica, sung in a blues band, and been deeply moved by early U2 performances, I hadn’t experienced the full power of music until that moment. Lucinda played more songs from Car Wheels and did faithful renditions of “Pineola,” “Out of Touch” and many others, before introducing tunes she would later release on “World Without Pain.” Her expressive gestures and rapping on “Righteously” gave new definition to the genre and I marveled at her ability to present so much new material and have it accepted by her fans.

My bonds to Lucinda were forged that evening and I will always consider myself fortunate to have seen her stunning set — an artist at the top of her game, doing so much justice to her greatest body of work, while setting a whole new direction for her career. I will never forget that evening and will be ever grateful to Lucinda for allowing me to experience tears of pure joy, something I believe that it is difficult for men in our culture to appreciate.