Not all the songs are gay-centric, though as with all metaphoric language, the hints and nuances can cut several ways. "Take Me Away in a Helicopter," about the death of his father, is eminently relatable and even, I think, approaches actual poetry. "Flying Low," an old favorite of mine, borders on what I think rock critic types may occasionally mean when they pluck the word "anthemic" from their hoard of imprecise, intelligent-sounding terms. (Sounds good to me, and hey, it's better than "seminal.") It "feels" like a classic song that somehow has always been there, and evokes sentiments that would resonate with anyone who has ever felt that merely getting off the ground at all would be a signal achievement — which is to say, I'd guess, practically everybody.

There's even one newish tune which deals with yet another angle of the bizarre complex of music-related redefinitions of what personal intimacy means. (I suppose that's the vague theme of this post.) I reckon you've never heard anything quite like "The Ghost of Jesse Michaels," which concerns the strange situation of the recording engineer/producer's intimate involvement in the work, but not the life, of an artist. I heard it for the first time that night, and it sounded like a "hit" to me.

Kevin has spent most of his career producing recordings of other peoples' songs rather than his own. You can't buy a record of these songs, and he doesn't play out very often. I hope someone puts them out someday, though. There truly is nothing quite like them, which is something you can't often say about music these days.

I didn't begin this post intending to write such a lengthy "review," or even intending it be a review at all. One thing I learned from the experience of watching Kevin and Bob is that there are still new things to learn, new angles on music and songs, and sometimes you may have to leave the house to stumble on them. Maybe I'll do it again one day.