My wife and I are counting down to soaking in the joy of safety, celebration and hope we’ve found in your music. 18 days until we load up our Subaru Outback Wilderness and head north. 20 days until we arrive at The Gorge to pitch our hammocks for four nights of camping. 21 days until we burst with excitement when you come on stage. Though we emerged from the battle ground that is Ticket Master a bit bruised and winded, we managed to get tickets to see all three nights of musical magic.
We were at your Nashville show last July, soaked from waiting in the rain, but absolutely elated for a space where we could show up fully ourselves. Among so many queer siblings, we felt room to breathe and lean into belonging, even if only for a few hours. During a time when we were so exhausted–body, mind and soul–from messages of hostility blaring with bullhorn intensity, we found refuge in an amphitheater full of the countering sounds of resistance, liberation and love. Thank you.
We are now living in California, which has allowed us to emerge from our duck-and-cover survival positions. On the cross-country move, we listened to Broken Horses (people reading their memoirs are my new favorite thing) and felt energized by your story. Brené was so right when she said, “Every now and then storytellers come along who tell stories with such depth and fearlessness that you don’t just see them, but you see yourself in those stories, and this is that book.” We feel seen in your story and music. Thank you.
I’m a newcomer to your music in the last few years. My wife introduced me to The Firewatcher’s Daughter and I was captured by your voice. I feel your lyrics:
I know I could be spending a little too much time with youBrandi Carlile, I Belong to You
But time and too much don’t belong together like we do
If I had all my yesterdays
I’d give them to you too
I belong to you now
I belong to you
When my wife and I spent a date night watching your streaming performance from The Gorge during the pandemic (August 2021), little did we know that a (then) new song of yours would become our song because we misheard the same lyrics in the same way and have giggled about it ever since.
I build my house up on this rock, babyBrandi Carlile, You and Me on the Rock
Every day with you
There’s nothin’ in that town I need
After everything we’ve been through
Me out in my garden and you out on your walk
Is all the distance this poor girl can take
Without listenin’ to you talk
I don’t need their money, baby
Just [doing] me on the rock
[Doing] me on the rock
Me: “Did she just say, ‘Doing me on the rock!?!'” Kim: “That’s what I heard.” We died laughing. The moment In These Silent Days released, we listened to the song to see if the recorded version sounded the same to us. Yep. The drum right at that lyric helps us hear “doing me.” I love our version, and I’m not sure we’ll be able to resist singing the wrong lyrics. We smile. We might shoot a silly glance at each other. We crack jokes about how such an adventure on the rock might be uncomfortable. But, when you’re in love, as you say, you just can’t take the distance and need to be with each other. I’m so deeply grateful that I’ve found someone to love, build a life with, and be ourselves. I’m also an enneagram 1, and leaning into playfulness is a great indication that I feel secure in our love. After spending 20 years of my life trying not to be myself for fear of not being loved, every moment I am loved as my full self is a healing moment. Your music is a large part of the soundtrack of that healing journey my wife and I are sharing. Thank you.
We are so excited to see you perform at The Gorge in a few short weeks!
Thanks for the Bramily love,
Michelle & Kim