February 14, 2025

Cindy Lee – soft sad surviving guitar strumming in some forgotten underbelly of hard hard America

Searching for the wrong-eyed Jesus took me to the southern States – a land of trauma, hellfire, magic and Jesus myth.

In that space – with the crust hardening across the land – Cindy Lee sits, strumming a guitar, morose, perhaps alone, in a dark corner of an abandoned house –  in a town that no-one is thinking about some miles from – what? – Alberta Terminals. If that album cover doesn’t say it all.

Just Cindy and her memories and his love or loves. Star-twinkling, small tears, seep down her face slowly. Reflections, thoughts, musing, meandering, no clear direction coming to mind, no feeling or impulse to get out of this space and place and leave the house.

Memory jams – and free associations – no words – just a miasma of feelings – the floodgates opened by scratchy electric faded guitar strings. And the memories and the songs are replayed and replayed and replayed – every one seems to be like one that came already – just an angle or a perspective changes – but its the same thing over and over again. Thinking, music, feeling, but nothing comes. There’s a resignation, but an absolute comfort, a contentment in dwelling in the past and keeping the feelings alive today. They’re so rich.

Feels like its from the 1970s – feels tinny almost – tinny radio transistor guitar. Its like listening to the memory of a sound. Its like listening to a open air concert – by from behind a wall – several blocks away – inside. Phantasmagorical at times – reminds me of the Boo Radley’s everything’s alright forever.

The thing – the whole album – doesn’t stop – its like a en emotional train journey that approaches you from a long way off and passes you and keeps on traveling taking itself off into the distant distant horizon – always in sight – but with very little to do with you – almost nothing to do with you. This wasn’t made for you. This doesn’t think about you. It’s like Melvyn Bragg’s God – there is something or someone out there said Melvyn – but it has very little concern or awareness of us – said Melvyn. Now if that doesn’t make you feel lonely – Cindy does.

Is this a dialogue between him and her?

It’s alright as background music said someone – listening to the opener – well yes, it is background in some way isn’t it – in some ways it is the background music to someone getting on with the day to day – with a strong nostalgic soundtrack running on repeat in their mind.

Memory – fantasy – memory – these words repeat – repeat – repeat.

My heart was open, my heart was stollen, when the tears start falling, I just keep rolling… Suicidal nostalgic guitar riffs, melancholy, old, dusty…

Can’t go on living without you…

Notes are played, melancholic, on instruments that are out of tune…breakdown…

Lazy, lethargic, Gorkyis Zygotic Mynci…

So sad, Hobart Paving. Cindy Lee ever listened to Saint Etienne, Boo Radleys?? Cocteau Twins?

Geographically – this is difficult – its Canadian – but in my mind its somewhere in the American outback.

Cindy Lee, Diamond Jubilee

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