Includes Bonus Review: The Tweedy Show

I originally posted this in November 2020, but I kept updating and clarifying, so I changed the date to reflect those additions. And, since then, Jeff Tweedy created a Substack account called Starship Casual. Some content is free, but most songs are behind the paywall. Well worth the subscription price!

In August 2019, my husband and I saw Jeff Tweedy in concert in Washington state at an outdoor music festival called Thing—a new event held at historic Fort Worden at the northeast tip of the Olympic Peninsula overlooking Puget Sound. The weather, often unpredictable in the Pacific Northwest, was near perfect: warm, dry, and calm. And, had Jeff Tweedy played and conversed until morning, I would’ve stayed the entire night with the exception of quick breaks for pesky necessities. Jeff Tweedy is much loved here, as was evidenced by the large crowd and by a small grocery that displayed a sign along Jeff’s travel route, offering him free cantaloupe if he stopped to say hello. I’m happy to report it worked.

Last year, my dear friend and editor, Elizabeth Thorpe, introduced me to The Tweedy Show—a delightful, quirky, witty, poignant program that airs on Instagram (stuffinourhouse, Mon/Thur, 9:00 Central). The show begins with a jukebox, after which special drawings by cartoonist Jeff Knurek (Jumble) depict the family. Then for about an hour, the Tweedys offer up banter and songs, and no subject is sacred. Always off-camera, Jeff’s beloved wife Susie runs commentary while filming. Oh my word, she cracks me up! Enhancing the feeling of community, live-streamed texts from clients (fans) scroll down the screen. (Highlights: Susie’s brother Danny jabs and praises in true sibling fashion. Client Paul quickly names every song, except ones that are brand-spankin’-new. And client Arrow creates gorgeous art with emoticons.)

Conversations often become comically raunchy, which makes it all the more appealing. There’s no script, and the show is raw and meandering, so it feels homey, like hanging with friends who happen to be highly talented musicians. Usually wearing t-shirt and pajama bottoms, and sitting on a couch in front of groovy IKEA curtains, Jeff sometimes sings from his solo and Wilco albums (always welcome). Oftentimes, Jeff and sons Spencer and Sammy play covers chosen for thought-provoking lyrics. I’d love to hear “I Got a Name” by Jim Croce, but there are so many other requests, I understand not having time for mine.

Lately, Jeff has been sharing new material, and, hot damn, what a treat! Whatever the selection, every song is eclectic and/or haunting and/or whimsical and sometimes prompts backstories, reflections, and impressions. Occasionally, Spencer’s girlfriend Casey Walker (with her adorable dog Basil in tow) sings one of her lovely creations. And, all the while, Susie’s sweet dad listens through a speaker on the coffee table; every now and again offering kudos and/or a lengthy joke. I never want to miss a performance, so I’ve noted it on my calendar with a reminder. But, just in case my plans are hampered, the program is available in archives.

Today marks the one year anniversary of The Tweedy Show. It’s been a generous gift from the Tweedys to help clients cope with the stress of quarantining, and I’m not ashamed to admit I greatly needed it a time or two. I’m grateful to be among the many this special household has touched. Only once before have I fallen in love with a family and pets without personally knowing them. (Obamas 2008 in case you’re wondering.) I’m guessing the Tweedys also benefit from this online relationship that keeps them in touch with clients, especially longtime and unwavering ones. Last night, on a high note, we were shown the collector’s package for Wilco’s “Ode to Joy” that won Jeff another Grammy—a fitting reminder of how art and beauty prevail.

Now for the book review! I began this post with the above information to illustrate how well Jeff Tweedy knows his stuff when it comes to music. In November 2020, and again on a road trip with my husband this past weekend, I listened to the Audible version of How to Write One Song. Jeff Tweedy’s insights are comforting and funny, and his prompts are applicable to various creative endeavors. He possesses qualities found in beloved teachers: humor, encouragement, authenticity, and inspiration. And, How to Write One Song is as good as, and even better than, many writing how-to books I’ve read and workshops I’ve attended. What a delight to have this gem—accurate description for both man and book—in the world.

Oliver Wendell Homes once said, “Many people die with their music still in them.” With the guidance of this book, coming into my life at the exact moment I needed it, I can accomplish something I thought beyond my abilities. Although I can’t read music, I have a pretty good ear and acceptable singing voice. And, among my friends are a smattering of poets who could help me hone the lyrics. Right now, I’m toying with a folkish, Irish lament, because I play a few slow airs on fiddle. Perhaps, one day, I’ll share my song on this blog.

Note to Jeff Tweedy: Thank you for being you! If our paths ever meet, and you have a moment to spare, I’d love to discuss our mutual obsession with the New York Times Crossword.

Although my solve-time is much slower than yours, and I’m well below your longest daily streak of 558, I aspire to reach 1000. And in the four years since downloading the app, I’ve completed all the Mondays and Tuesdays in the archives, starting with November 1993. But, my intention isn’t to brag, because it’s a one-sided love affair where I’m the key beneficiary. When I’m stumped, there’s joy in discovering answers on Wikipedia and Thesaurus, so the crossword keeps me sane(r) as it appeals to my basic need to perpetually learn. And, even more valuable to me, the crossword diverts my thoughts when my mind is chasing its tail. May all our puzzles be sprinkled with Oreos, eels, eeks, ekes, oles, ovals, olios, areolae, asses, aliases, alibis, orcas, iotas, oboes, oldies, opuses, onuses, Ellas, Ettas, Els, Ashes, Otts, Orrs, Olds, Odies, Opies, Astas, eons, ages, oafs, ogres, and etals. [Sigh]

Note: By 01/31/21, I’d logged 216 days in a row when a glitch in the app set my count back to 0. The problem stemmed from Wednesday, January 27th when the square changed from yellow to blue. (I have pictures!) I emailed The NY Times, but I’m not sure I reached the appropriate department or if the issue is even fixable. Good thing I enjoy a challenge. Oh, who am I kidding?!? This sucks!!! Especially since I was so diligent, even when our basement flooded on Jan. 2nd, and my husband and I spent 16 hours using two shop vacs to keep the water at bay until help arrived. But, what can I do about it? Nothin’! 4 down. 996 to go…