Micah P. Hinson
Micah P. Hinson and the Opera Circuit

Telling the story of my love for Micah is also and above all telling the story of how I discovered this artist. How I was struck. How he got into my very core.

It was a couple of years ago, I had read a positive review of his latest record ("Micah P. Hinson and the Opera Circuit") and I had listened to a few songs. Great voice, but music too country for my tastes. Acceptable. Nothing more. Then I saw that he was playing at the Circolo degli Artisti here in Rome, as the opening act for some Califone, another acclaimed band I had heard of without much enthusiasm.

But I was in the peak of my concert-going activity, all it took was for someone I had vaguely heard good things about to play, and I would rush to the concert, partly because paying for the ticket made me feel less guilty about all the free music I was listening to, and especially because I was trying (oh, I still try) to fulfill a little dream. To see the future U2, the future Cure, the future Metallica, Depeche Mode, Muse, in other words, the future idols of the masses when they were nobodies. When they played at the Circolo for 10 euros in front of at most 100 people.

This is to give myself the satisfaction of saying, when my children/grandchildren/friends will ask me to go see Pincopallo at the Olimpico for at least 80 euros, that no, I've already seen them when they played in front of at most 100 people. For 10 euros. And I even have their first CD autographed with a personal dedication (yeah right!!!). And I mean, can you compare having them 5 meters away? seeing them in the face? the acoustics of the Circolo versus that of the Olimpico? In short, I go to concerts for this too.

For Micah it was different. Curiosity. Simple curiosity. He gets on stage. He's a country boy in a plaid flannel shirt. Nerd glasses. I like him a lot. With him another guy in flannel. Together, they don't look more than 30 years old.

Then Micah opens his mouth and sings. My mouth opens too. Or rather, my jaw drops. I spend the concert with a smile plastered on my face like the Joker's. Those few times I look around, I see my same expression on everyone's face. Unreal silence. Only his voice, like that of a fifty-year-old earned by climbing mountains of Marlboro Reds. Too bad he's only about twenty (years old). The magic ends, Califone goes on stage. Five minutes and I leave. I want to know everything about my new god.

I discover that he's from Abilene, Texas. I discover that his first album is even more beautiful than the one I listened to. I listen to it. I find that it’s not just more beautiful than the next one, the one I had listened to, but it's much more beautiful than 90% of the albums I’ve heard so far. I discover that the last song on the album, “The Day Texas Sank To The Bottom Of The Sea” alone would be enough to keep me company for weeks. I discover there's a story behind this album. This “Micah P. Hinson And The Gospel Of Progress.”

It’s a simple love story. He sees her. He's a student. She's a model. Love at first sight, love, sex, drugs, addiction, depression, money runs out, love ends, the story ends. Only he remains and an abyss. Micah looks into the abyss and jumps. He jumps into writing songs. And those songs are wonderful, they are poetry, they are desperate and beautiful. Then Micah recovers. He makes other albums, finds peace, a wife, stability. But he never reaches the beauty of that album again. But it doesn’t matter. He's already written his masterpiece.

Micah will not be one of those artists I will boast about in front of my children/grandchildren/friends, having seen him when he was nobody and played for ten euros at the Circolo degli Artisti in front of less than a hundred people.

But that's okay, because Micah has gotten into my guts and can squeeze them whenever he wants.