The Old is New

One of the chief pleasures of my iPod is re-discovering music that has until recently been buried and half-forgotten in my CD collection. I used to listen to a lot of Cowboy Junkies, and then I didn't. No particular reason, I just moved on to other artists. Bot over the past few days I've made their acquaintance again. I'd forgotten how haunting the voice of Margo Timmins can be. It doesn't have a lot of range - there's no Mariah Carey style vocal hysterics - and sometimes it seems like she's just a step beyond speaking the lyrics. But I find her voice, and Michael Timmins' lyrics, to be incredibly evocative, and moving. Come Calling (His Song) is easily one of my all time favorites, and I'm wondering how I went so long without hearing it:

If I could fix me up a week of twilight hours,
we'd sit on the point and watch the sun continually flounder.
Bathed in gold we'd plug into some kind of power,
and connect with those days back before all of this went sour.

'Cause I'm drinking for the pleasure of falling,
and I'm falling for the pleasure of pretending,
that you're sitting by the window waiting,
for me to come calling,

Odd how the darkness always makes us whisper,
and with the last of the sun you can feel the approach of the winter.
Now is the time of each day that I desperately miss her.
I suppose I will learn how to live my life without her.