There still are live musical experiences that get me piqued.

I remember seeing Al "Year of the Cat" Stewart in 1977 and marvelled at how he was able to get a good sound out of the athletic complex at McMaster University. It was a teenage musical dream. He was a bona fide, big time "recording artist" and he was in my college town with his Spanish Border and Road to Moscow audio visual extravaganza.

Just recently -- and 30 years later, no less -- it was Lucinda Williams at the Jube (the Jubilee Theatre at SAIT). So how was the show? Well the Calgary Herald review (which will only be freely available for 30 days; 'cause after all newspaper prose has always been more valuable after the birds read it) and an op-ed piece (that's right, an op-ed piece?!) from the same fish wrap were pretty much spot on. You are, however, not reading this because you wanted affirmation from me that a mere newspaper review was okay. You are reading this -- I bet it's three years later and you've just done a search -- because you are a pure Lu fan.

Me? I'm a johnny-come-lately. I discovered Lu painting my house a few years ago when the satellite music service playing "adult oriented contempory" suddenly became interesting when "Righteously" hit the woofer. I stopped painting, got a pen, wrote down the artist name and went to buy the CD. It was, coincidently, the last CD I bought; everything since has been purchased over the net which no doubt makes me enemy number one to wigged out music exec grand-dads who fondly remember piano rolls. Okay, I did know "Passionate Kisses" but I had no idea that Mary Chapin Carpenter's hit was a Lucinda Williams song.

Fast forward to February 14th of this year and I pantingly parted with my money so that I could download "West" on its first day of release; as if DRM'ed AAC's could be collector's items. Wow what a record, er, recording. And fast forward again to the live Lu on June 14th singing "Come On" and "Unsuffer Me" from the West release with such spittin', snarly power that it makes the recording sound almost tame. Lucinda Williams is an American gift. An artist of such technique and attitude that she refines; in fact, redefines a genre. The antithesis of Nashville -- the George Bush of American country crap -- Lucinda is Louisiana raw and Austin authentic; she is the sweetest, perfectionist country punk to wield a guitar in years. I heart Bonnie Raitt but she is almost Hollywood in comparison to Lucinda's pure country-folk-punk. Emmy Lou Harris is close but only Lucinda is America's best song writer and "a righteous singer" .

As I write this, she is heading back to the lower 48; catch a show if you can. You'll marvel at her perfect balance between nervous jitter and musical exuberance. You will wonder how it is that she can charm with that Arkansan-Louisiana-Texas drawl one minute and cut loose with emotional venom the next. You'll love the band and especially Doug Pettibone's guitar. Lucinda is a mid-50's rocking wonder. If only Bob Dylan had the stuff she has now.

Lucinda's final gift of the night was her performance of Theivery Inc's / Flaming Lips "Marching the Hate Machines into the Sun". I bought it on iTunes the next day.