Some works of art take a little time to appreciate, of course. Your friend protests an early defeat: it’s a slow burner. It heats up halfway through the trilogy. It takes a few listens. Undoubtedly that can be true, and I don’t mind waiting; in the meantime, you’d better know how to tell a goddamn story. Five seconds into Lissie‘s My Wild West and I’m hooked, the opening instrumental rattling to a close just as it’s picked up pace. Already, I don’t care where she takes this story. I just know I’m going to enjoy hearing it told, and she’s not even opened her mouth yet.
