A photo from a few years back, at one of the most stunning drive-up (and a short walk) viewpoints in the U.S., Dead Horse Point State Park in Utah, near Moab:
Reading a recent edition of Harp, and come across a one pager interviewing Howe Gelb. Never really caught up on the beef between Howe and Joey Burns (apparently Covertino stays mum and has managed to keep friendship with both). My sympathies immediately drew up alongside my loyalty to Howe. Made Joey sound like an overdriven indie yuppie with a lust for indie-rock power. I don’t know, that’s a one-sided view, so I admit, I’m not being fair. I love Calexico’s music — and I play it way more than Giant Sand or any of Howe’s solo recordings, good as that all may be. Joey’s talented, and he deserves attention and the growing indie-fame he’s receiving lately. But, I can’t help it, every time I play them Calexico records, I think of that article. I think of Howe, and the bitter taste left in his mouth. The bitterness of broken friendships.