Me And McDill RCA APL1-2179

We floated down the interstate, past the farms and fields and through the little towns, insulated inside the steel and tinted glass of Bill Rice's yellow cadillac. Not so young, good old boys, in jeans and summer cowboy hats ...    Muscle Shoels, 200 miles. When the silence became unbearable, we began to talk and talk and talk - like people sometimes do, with hours to kill and no place to go. We talked about wasted youth, spent in back seats of cars, traveling from one dingy night club gig to another. We talked about what it's like to be over 30 and to see the years begin to go by like those telephone poles along the highway. We talked about things gained and lost... mostly lost... about love... Muscle Shoels, 30 miles.   The calm shell popped under the tires, and we pulled into the Music Mill parking lot... conversation ended. The next morning we started the album; and for the next three days, I sat on that leather sofa in the control room and listened while Bobby Bare, in that sad magic voice, tried to make sense of it all.