The One Where I Go All Gushy Over Yet Another Musician

There is a very slight, fairly small part of me that is loaded with stalker potential. I think I’ve mentioned before that I collect people; I’m the person at the park who makes eye contact and smiles with everyone I pass, and I have no problem making small talk. With anyone. Grocery store cashier, nurse delivering my baby…(no lie. I almost asked two of the nurses in the delivery room if they wanted to hang out, but at the last second realized that that might be a little bit awkward).

For the record, I’ve never *actually* stalked anyone, so if you just realized you’ve been behind me in the checkout lane and are starting to feel a little freaked, rest at ease. It’s just that I have a really deep appreciation for creative people whose work I really, really admire. Which makes me want to show up on their doorstep and inform them that we’re soul BFFs.

The stalker in me is apparently a bit of a snob, though, because I have no desire to befriend actors or actresses. (Did you feel that breeze? I think Hollywood just let out a collective sigh of relief.) Writers and musicians, though, are totally in my line of vision. Something about a book well written or an amazing song performed well just gives me goosebumps. To pull off either thing really well, you have to have clarity of life perspective, an insight into what people think, feel, and experience, and then be able to convey it in your medium. When I connect with your talent, that’s when I go all whatshisface in The Cable Guy on you. (That’s the one and only time I’ll every make a Jim Carey reference, so I hope you enjoyed it.)

You’ve heard me go verbally fan crazy on the blog before when I mentioned my deep and abiding affection for Chris Thile of Nickel Creek and Punch Brothers fame. (That post brings a bazillion people to my blog, btw. Go figure.  All bazillion of whom have Googled, “Chris Thile’s wife,” proving there are people out there as/more crazy than I am.) But hold onto your mandolin, Chrissy Poo, because I have a new musical looove. Say it with me now: Mumford.and.Sons.

And I discovered them on VH1, of all places, when I clicked on the TV the other day and they were playing Mumford’s video. (I honestly didnt’ know VH1 still did that. Played videos. Go figure.) I am totally infatuated with them (Mumford and Sons, not VH1…my grammar’s getting a little sticky here) although I realize that I’m one of the last people to acknowledge how amazing they are. (They were, after all, on VH1.) (And don’t go all “I loved them aaaages ago like that makes you cooler than me. Because you probably are anyway.)

One of my good friends is also a huge Chris Thile fan, and last week I sent her this text:

I totally have the hots* for the lead singer of Mumford and Sons. But I just learned he’s only 23. Which makes me a pedophile. I’m hanging my head in shame.

Ever the optimist, I immediately followed up with this text:

But at least it isn’t Taylor Lautner. So there’s that.

In another life, I would have been an awesome groupie. (Don’t anybody dare mention that time I dated a drummer in college.) If you haven’t listened to Mumford yet, here’s a link to the amazing song I’ve been playing on repeat. The whole album is amazing, but this is the song I fell in love with. You’re welcome.

*Dear Husband: The official definition of “hots” here is “Profound appreciation for vocal talent.” I only have the hotshots for you.

Update: After watching the video (again), I just have to say…in addition to the amazeballs lyrics and motorbikes, how could you not love the linen suits and Sgt. Pepperesque uniforms with Converse??? Love!

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