Dance in Your Eyes and Fell Through the Skies

They say the night time is the right time.

In a mid-south parking lot, a man is trembling, freezing cold. Against his better instincts, he has decided or been persuaded or both to hit the town. He is a regional celebrity but a national failure, which makes him sort of a regional joke too. A cruel one. The vibe is awful.

And yet there is beauty too — the man is deeply stoned — stolen glances from an utter stranger could per chance precipitate the potential occurrence of runaway pure love. For the past forty minutes, on the eleven tracks before we get to the song “Nightime,” he has attempted in various ways to armor himself against the world. He has been petulant, contemptuous, seductive, conciliatory and sedated to the point of narcolepsy. He has been in crisis, he knows. He has appealed to the heavens, to his lover, and his friends, of which he seems to have some, despite the fact that he is a very difficult man indeed, frequently truculent to the point of offense.