A whiskey adventure for you and me.
“Crave, desolate, you dive in, we follow along
I contrive you with whiskey and Sam Cooke songs
And we lay on our backs”
Well, show me the way
To the next whiskey bar
Oh, don’t ask why.
Oh, moon of Alabama
We now must say goodbye
We’ve lost our good old mama
And must have whiskey, oh, you know why.
Tonight - if you’re in San Francisco and would like to avoid all of that “Cinco de drinko” debauchery - come down to the Mission, for a Spirit Family Reunion show. The Chapel, 9pm. I’ll be doling out the whiskey upstairs.
“I don’t how much better it’s ever gonna get.
You like the taste of whiskey as you roll up your cigarette.
Well if there’s one thing I know for certain,
Whiskey takes away the hurting.
Well, take my hand and put it in your hand.”
“That lingering thread of hope which survives in Molina’s music is what I try to embrace in his music; it’s the idea that the singer lived to process his hurt and put it into all the beautiful, meaningful songs he could while he still could. I never thought a day would come when Molina’s music could get any sadder, but here we are. I’ll still celebrate it — and still find warmth and comfort in its worn, weary grace. But it hurts like hell that he’s gone.”