Man, it’s cold. The thermometer tells me it’s 1 below. That’s 18 below for my international friends and others that prefer the metric system. Even our dog, who normally likes the cold didn’t want to stay outside very long this morning.

In the news, I see that the Superbowl will be between the Steelers and the Packers. Both teams are from cities where it can get mighty cold. I’m not much of a football fan, but I like to watch the Superbowl. I think of cold weather, football games and the like as part of that rough and ready American spirit; the spirit that turns up the collar bends forward into the cold wind and forges on. Steelers and Packers. They capture that spirit.

A lot of my friends wanted to see the Jets or the Patriots. They’re both great teams, but they don’t have that same feeling. At least it isn’t something like the Washington Lawyers taking on the New York Bankers, nope, it’s steelworkers and meat packers going at it.

What does this have to do with Music Monday? Well, I thumbed through the Sonicbids submissions and picked out Michael McGarrah.

McGarrah sings the songs of American’s that turn up their collars and bend forward into the cold wind. He starts off his biography saying,

It began when I was quite young, bumping along the blue highways of the Pacific Northwest in the bed of my Dad's 1955 Chevy pickup truck, watching the clouds scroll across the sky, humming to myself and fooling around with words and little melodies in my head

It kind of sounds like he’s still an old pickup truck driving around the states. Love Boat to Reno starts off

Let's catch that love boat to Reno
It leaves at midnight tonight
I'll bring the whiskey
You bring a suitcase
Filled with your favorite delights

Another song starts off,

It's a hot sticky summer night somewhere deep in the heart of middle America listen real close and you can hear the strains of a fender esquire drippin out like the bead of sweat on a hillbilly preachers brow shimmering guitar chords breaking like waves across the hoods of starlite coupe devilles and double mint perfumed girls with round asses like the fenders on 1958 chevy impalas pose and poke at poison dos as they gaze off into the blue haze impaled on their own personal dreams of post war picket fences

I wish I could write like McGarrah. I could spend hours just listening to his tunes, soaking up the rhythm and wordplay. He has a voice that can carry off his great writing and simple guitar picking that provides a great backdrop for his words without getting in the way.

So, the next time you are thinking more about steelers and meat packers and pickup trucks heading across the country, the next time you want to hear words of the American experience put together elegantly, find a Michael McGarrah CD, open a Lone Star, pour yourself a shot of Whiskey, and just listen.

I couldn’t find many videos of McGarrah, but I always like to end off with one, so let me sign off this week’s Music Monday with this.