Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, Lucinda Williams (1998)

Home is an idea, a mythical place of unconditional love and unquestioned belonging. It’s also a real place filled with what’s most familiar to us—that is, the things we find most beautiful and most appalling in this wide world. The brilliance of Car Wheels on a Gravel Road is that Williams doesn’t offer resolution. She just thoroughly marinates us in the details of home, perhaps hoping that we have what it takes to sort out the mess inside us. There’s great love here (“june bug versus hurricane”) and great condemnation (“I used to think you were strong”) and also great and honest ambivalence (“little bit of dirt mixed with tears”). There are tens of thousands of albums about heartbreak. Car Wheels is about how heartbreak feels when one has the wisdom to look around and see that a landscape surrounds the heart. 11