Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference."Well, I do my best thinking sitting on my ass," claims John Hiatt in "Uncommon Connection", the opening track of this, his 18th release and, what with sitting in a car seat travelling between gigs, sitting around at home trying to make up songs, and generally surrendering to the weariness of 50 years of unhealthy habits, he's clearly getting to do a fair bit of thinking these days. Such is the impression given by this first album credited jointly to Hiatt and his band The Goners. As you might expect, there's a lot of 50-something reflection here, prompted by things like old flames, driving his daughter off to college, and hankering after the economical truckstop diners of pre-Starbucks America. There's even a touching tribute to his mutt, "My Dog and Me", bashed out to a rhythm of tambourine and slapped thighs. As ever, he has the knack of treating serious subjects like depression ("The Nagging Dark") and separation ("Missing Pieces") with a resilient rock'n'roller's spirit, without demeaning himself, his material, or his audience. Presented with some nice dobro touches and a Dylanesque harmonica break, "Missing Pieces" in particular is a touching lament for the way that separation leaves one with just fragments of love: "A false move here, a stumble there/ A box of letters and a lock of hair/ That's all that's left when I turn out the light/ I count the missing pieces every night". The Goners back Hiatt up with their usual emphatic, bluesy panache.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments