Annie Lynch is one of those talents that seems destined. She began her music career as I imagine many do, begging her parents for an instrument. In this case, a violin. Lynch had spent day after day hovering in the empty halls of her elementary school, following the wain and bellow of supermarket violins emanating from the gymnasium. Infatuated with the idea of joining the Cape Cod Little Fiddlers, Lynch begged her parents for a fiddle, a request they were happy to entertain. Violin led the aspiring musician to Joni Mitchell, who led Lynch to singing, which led to guitar, which led to Annie and the Beekeepers.
Thanks, mom and dad.
The band’s latest record, 2012′s My Bonneville, showed up on my desk a few weeks ago. As the host of a weekly radio show, about 30 CDs a week show up on my desk, and though I’m shy to admit it, judging a book (CD) by its cover (album art) certainly comes into play when dealing with numbers like that. I sift through piles of your classic country cover (a cowboy boot wearin’ five o’clock shadowed man leaning against a pick-up truck) until my eyes are ready to burst aflame. The sweetly innocent (almost childlike) illustration that adorns My Bonneville immediately caught my attention, and gave my eyes the respite they desperately coveted. Instead of immediately listening to the record, I decided to put it to the side, hoping that it’s charming cover art meant what I wanted it to mean, something worthwhile on the inside. I wanted to save it for the moment in which I’d listened to too many bad country or folk records in a row. I wanted the music to be a reprieve for my ears the way the cover was to my eyes. Continue reading
