Somebody’s Coming Home

Heart in HandDecember 14, 2012 was the longest day of my life. This isn’t a new revelation for me or for anyone who knows me, but it is one I wanted to revisit today. Especially today.

In the year before that pre-Christmas Friday 2 years ago, I had started to really dig the music of Nathan Bell. I had stumbled across a glowing review of his then-new acoustic album Black Crow Blue, but it was Crow’s self-released predecessors In Tune, On Time, Not Dead and Traitorland that grabbed me first.

Nathan’s work earns the sort of obsessive behavior I put in listening to those 3 albums. His songs are well crafted and True. I love his guitar playing, as well. His art fits very well in my hierarchy of things.

I loved (and still love) a good number of the songs I downloaded from Amazon. I listened to a lot of them a lot of the time. One of my favorites was “Somebody’s Coming Home” from Traitorland. It spoke to me immediately as a father. Listen to the song and that’s an obvious response.

As I sat a safe distance away from Newtown on 12/14, watching, listening, reading with sorrow as the bad news became worse and the worse news became unthinkable, “Somebody’s Coming Home” was forever transformed from one of my favorite songs to my song of thanksgiving.

The wait for that “big yellow school bus” to come around the bend with our own 6-year-old first grader on board was difficult to say the least. I promised myself two things: I would never forget, and I would be mindfully thankful. Thank you to Nathan for writing a song that helps me do both:

 Happy Thanksgiving. May everyone you love come home.

The Guy in the Jacket

Nathan Bell is worth your time. The past several years I have listened to nobody more than him (and I listen to a *lot* of music)

Rusted 38

Nathan Bell, photo courtesy of nathanbellmusic.com The Guy in the Jacket -Nathan Bell, photo courtesy of nathanbellmusic.com

Hello friends and welcome to Rusted 38. My name is Heather Tinker. I am a thirty-nine, (or Rusted 38′), year old freelance writer living in upstate New York. I’d like to begin by telling you an extraordinary story about my introduction to the Guy in the Jacket.

Around mid August my husband and I found ourselves outback of our neighbors house, hovered over an outdoor fire and an outdoor bar, just as the majority of our Wednesday evenings had placed us for the past six years or more. As a ritual during these meetings we have a few mid-week cocktails and unwind with our friends, which, by our definition, involves our close compadre’ Sean and his endless search for unique and neglected music. Now, when I say neglected I mean by the mainstream media and the cache’ of all that someone on the fucking planet, who…

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