Erik and I finally went out to Lone Star Music a couple of weeks ago and picked up, among other things, Rodney Crowell's The Houston Kid, which is just fantastic. Several of the songs are at least semi-autobiographical (including one I'd wager dinner money was written about Roseanne Cash), which is part of what makes it such a fantastic album.
I have a soft spot for sad songs with catchy beats. There's something about the juxtaposition of a peppy beat with a depressing subject that amuses the living hell out of me for some reason. Guess it's due to my own optimistic nature. Yeah, life sucks, but what's to do besides enjoy it?
This song also is a horrible ear-worm. It gets caught in both my head and Erik's on a pretty regular basis now. The music is happy. The lyrics? Not so much so.
Unless you're seriously fucked-up, you probably never thought domestic abuse could be so much fun:
Hmm. Strongly suspect that's not gonna work, so here's the link: http://youtu.be/bkZh6HY20dM