"...and it burns, burns, burns."
On Sunday night I saw Jewel in concert for the first time. She took my breath away from the moment she stepped on the stage.
The first time I heard Jewel was the fall of 1996, when I was eleven years old. I had just moved to Arizona from Washington and my parents had given me a "boom box" stereo (remember those?) with something exceptional and new for me, a CD player. I didn't own many CD's, but Sony distributed the stereo with some sort of compilation preview album of various artists, some whom were just emerging but all of whom were totally new to me. Back in Washington, the music every fifth grader listened to was in the category of hip hop and R&B - Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston, TLC, Coolio and the like. My new state, grade and school brought a different world of music that I knew nothing about: alternative rock. What were these strange, grumbling guitar riffs and gritty voices? Who was this dead guy Kurt Cobain and why did everyone think he was so hot? I didn't get it.
The first song on the disc (after a cheesy recorded spoken-word "Welcome to Sony" intro) was a Goo Goo Dolls non-hit, and I immediately skipped it. "Ugh," I thought. The next track was Who Will Save Your Soul. I was not immediately entranced by the music or too thrilled about her voice, but despite the fast tempo and her breathy pronunciation I caught a lyric or two:
"There are addictions to feed and there are mouths to pay
so you bargain with the devil but you're okay for today...
say you love them, take their money and run - say 'It's been swell sweetheart,'
but it was just one of those things to flings, those strings you've got to cut
so get out on the streets, girls, and bust your butts
but who will save your soul, after those lies that you told, boy?"
They were some of the strongest, most raw lyrics my young mind had ever been exposed to. I hit the back button on the track and listened again, and again, and again, till I had the song memorized.
The summer before my 9th grade year I started learning the guitar and, of course, I imitated the original "girl with her guitar" by learning every song I could from Pieces of You. Friends made constant requests - You Were Meant for Me, Don't, Near You Always. Even the incredibly sad Adrian was a big hit. We (usually a bunch of girls) sang it together with crocodile sobs in our throats. This ritual never got old. In my 20s, while a friend of mine was silently getting dressed for her wedding I picked up a guitar and started casually singing Don't. "Oh, I love that song!" said her bridesmaids. When I graduated from college and moved back to Washington again I found myself sitting with a guitar in a big back-yard full of people I barely knew, and started singing an old Jewel song. I immediately had the audience completely captivated and nearly everyone (or at least every female near my age) singing along.
Usually people have stories about how old they were and what they were doing the first time they heard those songs. How many artists in our generation have moved people in this way?
So much more than just a girl with her guitar.
"I wont be made useless
I won't be idled with despair
I will gather myself around my faith
For light does the darkness most fear..."
"she used color carelessly, painted his portrait a thousand times
or maybe just his smile..."
in winter they were weavers of warmth, in summer they were carpenters of love
they thought blue prints were too sad, so they made them yellow..."
"Do you hate her cause she's pieces of you?"
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