Lucinda Williams is a National Treasure

I had never seen Lucinda live before. I knew the records. I knew the voice. I knew the songs. But I had never actually been in a room with her. And after these two nights, I honestly think she might be one of the most remarkable songwriters I’ve ever seen perform.

In 2020, Lucinda suffered a stroke that affected the left side of her body and took away her ability to play guitar. That feels especially significant with Lucinda because the guitar was always such a big part of her music. It wasn't just an instrument. It was part of how she told her stories and part of what made those songs feel so personal.

Her band filled in beautifully for what was missing. That mattered.

But then she started singing, and somehow all of that fell away.

Her voice was there. The songs were there. All those years of living, writing, and singing were still there. Somewhere in those first few songs, I realized these two nights were going to be special. The kind of thing you carry around with you for a very long time. Maybe even in your pineal gland forever.

And somehow, hearing those songs after everything she had been through made them hit harder.

Lucinda has never written songs that sound perfect. They sound lived in. Love, heartbreak, regret, loneliness. The messy parts of being a human.

The first night she closed with “Joy.”

There is a line in that song that kept coming back to me: “You took my joy. I want it back.”

On the surface, it's about someone taking something from you and the anger that comes with it. But hearing Lucinda sing it after everything she had been through, it felt like something else. Almost like a refusal to let what happened to her have the final word.

She had lost something. Something that had been such an important part of how she made music. And she still got up there and sang.

Maybe that's what “Joy” has always been about. Not pretending that nothing bad happened. Not forgetting what was taken from you. Just deciding that you want your joy back.

Maybe that's why seeing her that way affected me so much.

There was something incredibly powerful about watching someone lose a part of the way they had always made music and then find another way to stand on a stage and give you everything they still had.

It was beautiful.

Actually, it was one of the most beautiful live performances I’ve ever seen.

And it was my first time seeing Lucinda Williams.

Two nights in Woodstock.

Her voice. Her songs. And a whole lot of history standing behind them.

I’m just incredibly glad I was there.