My musical tastes are pretty varied. I love it all. I thank my mother for that. I was raised on Charles Aznavour and a steady stream of disco. GiGi is the original Francophile and it was the 70s, so that makes sense, right? Sprinkle in a little Buffalo Springfield and some Simon & Garfunkel, and you have my childhood, in a nutshell. Music has defined my life from as far back as I can remember. There are random songs that will pop up on the radio, and I am suddenly five years old again, playing on the giant anchor at Stepping Stone Park. Or back at Homecoming, 1986, watching Josh dance with her and literally feeling that my heart would just never be whole again. My play list for the hospital when we went in for Pea’s delivery? It consisted of hours and hours of Gordon Lightfoot, Aerosmith, Blondie and Lynyrd Skynyrd. My doula was so relieved not to be subjected to more classical overtures. Her words, not mine.

My music collection runs the gamut. There’s a lot of folk from the 60s. And a lot of “classics” from the 70s, due purely to nostalgia for my childhood. There are a lot of punk and new wave albums. Siouxsie Sioux, Naked Ray Gun, Bauhaus. And of course, growing up in Chicago, it wouldn’t be a proper music collection without a lot of Buddy Guy, Junior Wells and Muddy Waters. But the music that really sticks in my mind is from my college days. I attended a small women’s college in Virginia. The local music scene was incredible. The Dave Matthew’s band, true locals, had just formed and started playing locally. I was into The Connells and Widespread Panic. It was just a really great time, musically. But it’s the road trips with my girlfriends that I remember the most. Squeezing into Tisha’s tiny Volkswagen Cabriolet on a Friday afternoon, heading down to our brother school for a weekend of fraternity parties. We listened to bands like The Indigo Girls and Liz Phair, Juliana Hatfield, Hole. You know, chick rock. The line “I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind, got my paper and I was free” from The Indigo Girls’ “Closer to Free” would be playing on repeat in my head each and every time I had a meeting with my advisor. But since then, with a slight exception here and there, I have not really been moved by music. Nothing new, anyway. I’ve been sticking to what works for me. Classic rock and the blues. I am raising my girls on Janis Joplin, Steely Dan, Bob Seger and Bruce Springsteen. Solid American rock.

But every once in a while, a record comes along that takes my breath away. Karen, the vocalist for a Texas duo called The Mercies, sent me her album shortly after we moved to Utah. They were actually just down the highway from me when I lived in Fort Worth, but I didn’t know much of the local music scene, at the time. I was busy with babies. It’s a shame, I really would have liked to see them perform. I don’t even know how to categorize their sound, I’m not a music critic. Just someone who likes music. A lot. So, I will try to do Karen and Kim’s music some justice. It’s folksy. It’s bluesy. It’s a little country. They are, to me, the consummate American musical duo. Listen – the first track I heard is called “Save Me.” As it turns out, it’s a fan favorite. And with good reason. It opens with this:

“Bobbi was a small town girl

She wanted to see the world

She learned to hide her dreams

In the pocket of her blue jeans…”

Come on, doesn’t that put such an image of Americana in your mind? You know, the small-town girl in her faded Levi’s sitting in her boyfriend’s pick-up truck at the Dairy Queen, dreaming of something more; of escaping her little town for the big city? I can relate. Totally. I cannot get this song out of my head. Karen’s voice has that gravelly sexiness that I would kill for. You know, there is some music that makes me think that I can sing. And this is that music, And trust me, I can’t sing to save my life.

I hesitate to compare The Mercies to other musical acts. But I just have to. Karen’s smoky voice is reminiscent of Melissa Etheridge. And then there are the memories of John Mellencamp, who I grew up on, and his all-American lyrics. And for me, there’s even a little Trisha Yearwood in there; perhaps that is their Southern sensibilities?

I’m not the only one who feels this way. They list some of the musicians that I’ve referenced as their inspiration. And they’re winning awards: the American Songwriter Magazine Lyric contest. And they’ve been commissioned to write a song for a nationwide campaign to end discrimination. Oh, and by the way… “Save Me” was recorded in one take in their living room. One take. Wow.

Good music moves me. My husband and I always have music on in the house. It’s always there, in the background. That’s how my childhood was. I have such fond memories of my mother pushing all of the living room furniture out of the way after dinner so that she, my brother and I could dance. Music has the ability to calm me, to comfort me, to give me hope. I am so grateful to my mother for passing on that passion to me. And I hope to pass it on to my own girls. I miss the good old days, when I walked into Wax Trax in Chicago to buy a new record and then rushed home with it, so full of anticipation to get it on my stereo’s turntable and just sit back for the next 60 minutes and take it all in. Now, in a time when music is all about downloads and MP3s and iTunes, I feel so out of the loop. But listening to The Mercies, I am transported back to a time when music was fresh and full of promise and it made me genuinely feel something. Their music is about just that: music. It’s about the lyrics and the instruments and the clear voices and it’s just so simple and deep and real.

The Mercies have earned their place on our playlist. It’s honest American rock. My favorite kind of music. Hours after listening to their album, I am still singing their songs. Now that is good music…