On the 20th I saw Kim Richey perform at a small club called The Living Room, in the East Village. She was promoting her new album, Chinese Boxes.
I've loved Kim's music since her self-titled debut album, which came out in 1995. I don't remember the moment when I discovered her, but I must have been browsing the Country music section, because that's where she was classified, though in my opinion that's sort of stretching the definition of the genre.
I've always been a sucker for a pretty face, so maybe that drew me to the album cover, or maybe the album was being specially promoted by whatever store I was in. Whatever the initial attraction, I wouldn't have bought it without listening first. I'm sure I took the CD to a headphone station, gave it a listen, and felt something special right away.
That first album spoke to me. Not one song on it was a dud. I liked how the stories her songs told were neither too literal nor too abstract. The language was plain and familiar; the poetry was never laid on too thick. The music was catchy without ever sounding manufactured. I won't try to do her justice here, or try to explain just what got under my skin; you can listen for yourself at the iTunes Music Store, which has all her albums, or at the Amazon MP3 store, which only has Chinese Boxes, at least for the moment.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. Kim hadn't put out an album in years, and I had stopped checking on her. But one day, on a whim, I went to her web site and discovered that not only did she have a new album, but she was going to be playing in New York. So of course I had to go.
The Living Room is an easy walk from where I work. It's an intimate venue, and all seats were taken when I got there, just minutes before Kim and her band came on stage. I was lucky to find a folding chair I could set up in a back corner of the room.
She started right in with the first song from her first album, "Those Words We Said." It's a great song and she sounded great. It was neat to hear her phrase the lines a little differently than on the CD track I'd listened to so many times.
The rest of the set was just as good. She kept things moving along and was cool and efficient dealing with one fan, a young woman who got overenthusiastic about something — I couldn't quite make out what. For her closer, Kim did a beautiful à cappella rendition of "What a Wonderful World" that alone was worth the price of admission.
Afterwards I bought a CD and hung around long enough to see Kim by the bar, surrounded by a circle of fans. I could have gotten the CD autographed, but I felt awkward about it, so I just watched her for a minute before heading home.
