There's an argument I like to use when 'defending' music. It goes something like this: any particular piece of music (song or album) exists independent of its surroundings. I tend to use this argument when discussing music and/or bands that have become very popular over time. Good examples might be Led Zeppelin in the classic rock world and, say, Michael Jackson in the pop world.

My most recent use of this argument actually did come in the defense Led Zeppelin. A statement was made that, because the listener had "burned out" on them years ago, he considered the music "lame" and therefore had no use for it. Now, I can't argue that it's not possible to "burn out" on something (this has happened to me too, but I tend to revisit things years later), but I can argue that it's not the music that has changed, it's the listener.

OK, now I get to show what a musical hypocrite I am by contradicting myself. In the case of Patti Scialfa, my 'rule' doesn't apply.

Some artists are so inextricably linked to personal memories that they are lifted to a higher level...a kind of reverse guilt-by-association. In her case it's the combined memories of years and years of Bruce Springsteen-related events: my first Bruce record (Darkness On The Edge Of Town), show (Richfield Coliseum, River tour...Southside Johnny came out at one point and they played "I Don't Want To Go Home"), walking into the University of Maine bookstore only to be surprised by Nebraska (I didn't know it was coming out), driving with a college buddy on the Park Loop Road in Acadia National Park at 70 mph while singing along to "Badlands", seeing Gary U.S. Bonds at the Cape Cod Coliseum, playing "Rosalita" to get cranked up before my first wedding ceremony (sorry Bruce, it didn't work out), the Southside Johnny show at the University of Maine, my wife's first show in Boston (a near-religious experience), and all those danged bootlegs.