An Ear for Emmylou

Darko has thrown down the gauntlet over at Pertinent Verge with his profession of suffering from a dislike of Emmylou Harris:

"So, why can I not stand her singing? Is it a question of ears overtuned to the sarcastic? Is it a lack of empathy for one after another songs of sadness and woe? Finally, is it a total lack of emotive skills?"

I might suggest he get a medical checkup from his local otolaryngologist, but I think the malady runs deeper than tone deafness - more like soul deafness, for who can deny the soulful melodic voice of Emmylou?



Glenn McDonald expresses exactly what I feel when listening to my favorite Emmylou album:

"Emmylou's voice affects my metabolism, relocates my points of emotional equilibrium, supplies nutrients I'd forgotten I needed. I suspect the intensity of my reaction has some biological root..." The War Against Silence.

Now, here's my confession: my love for Emmylou is her strong ballad style, the crystalline quality to her beautiful voice; but, even I cannot say the change of style on compliations such as Wrecking Ball (and Whisky Prajer and I seem on the same wavelength) is as satisfying to me as those with her more quintessential sound such as Pieces of the Sky, Quarter Moon In a Ten Cent Town, or even the more recent Red Dirt Girl.

I don't want to be insinuating your cinch is loose, Darko, and everyone has to pick his own horse, but your opinion of Emmylou's music is out bigger than Lottie's eye.