My brother Mitch has a connection for Turkish pistachio nuts, and he gave me a bag of them when I was in New York last week. We grew up on those red ones, Zenobia, I think, was the brand name. Their telltale dye turned everything red; your fingers, your tongue, your lips. The stain stayed with you the next day at school, too. Somewhere along the way, California pistachios became the rage. They are in every store these days, but I can’t eat them anymore. Compared to the Turkish nuts, they have no taste, though they are cosmetically beautiful. As a substitute over these last few years, I have taken a shine to pecans. Sweet one, salty ones, on yogurt, ice cream, cereal, salad, they bring an earthy addition. Pecan Pie for Thanksgiving? Now we're talking.
Patrick Sweany brings today's musical entry, and it is a song that takes you back to the rural. Leave it to songs to transport you, even to a place you have never been. The slide, the pacing, the voice, Patrick delivers the languid stillness of a summer day in a small town in the south. This was filmed last month in Nashville at Marathon Recorders during Americana Fest. His latest record, That Old Southern Drag, came out in February of this year. It was recorded to two inch tape, old school analog style, in Nashville, TN, which is Patrick's new home. He plays dates next week, and then heads back to Ohio, his native home for a few dates after that. Here is the Music Fog version of “Pecan Trees,” featuring Pat’s signature Deep Blues sound. You can find the original on his latest record.
--Jessie Scott
