I used to go to a cafe in Cambridge, Massachusetts a lot because I liked to sit in the window, drink coffee that was never quite hot enough, and listen to whatever music the barista played. We had similar taste; it was often Stereolab or Tortoise or, on feistier days, early Liz Phair. It was an indie time in my life.

Today, I walked to a coffee shop to buy a pound of beans. The barista offered me a complementary cup. He was playing Lee Hazlewood. I felt as though I were meant to be there, that place, that time. I sat in the window watching construction workers erect scaffolding, admiring the brick building across the street which was painted robin's egg blue but dominated by a sign with blocky yellow letters.

Lee's voice is magical, his storytelling transports, and I could listen to him every morning as I drink my coffee and feel warm.

I was going to say that this picture of Davy Graham is not an accurate depiction, but actually, I think it is. Listen through his brilliant guitar playing, his effortless, gently frolicsome vocals, his selections of Simon & Garfunkle covers, surprising jazz tunes and traditional British folk songs, and there is something goofy at his core. The goofiness doesn't get in the way - he's far, far too talented for that. Rather, it gives him dimension, levity.

This is my favorite song of the moment:

Love is teasing, and love is pleasing
And love's a treasure when first it's new
But as love grows older, it waxes colder
It fades away like the morning dew.

Sometimes you find yourself in a bar and a band you've never heard of takes the stage. They plug in their guitars. You look them over, study their haircuts, their shoes, their choice of instruments. There's a moment of anticipation. They could be a brilliant up-and-coming act making their soon-to-be legendary debut. They could be decently entertaining for the course of their thirty minute set. But chances are, they're neither.

The drummer removing his shirt could not save this performance. The lead singer tilting the microphone stand and letting his hair fall in his eyes could not make his vocals more compelling. This band was so mediocre, so utterly forgettable, that it made me a little sick to listen to them.

I have worked on the music of hundreds of mediocre bands, but most of them have at least one defining characteristic - one catchy song, a charming heart worn on a sleeve, charismatic stage presence, a clever lyric, a hook, a soul, choreography, shiny pants, something that makes me feel their dedication to their music.

This band? I don't even think they were having fun.

My husband said they were a bit like leftover Jane's Addiction, if you removed everything that was great about Jane's Addiction.