I’ve never made a secret of my distaste for rating wine (or whiskey) on a points scale, especially the 100 points system for wine (which seems to start at around 86 points for most reviewers these days). It’s like walking into the Louvre, approaching the staircase upon which the Nike of Samothrace (aka Winged Victory) holds court, being humbled by its magnitude and the centuries of history that exude from its every intricately folded surface, shrug-mumbling, “94 points,” and moving on to something else. And even in the most charitable point rating systems, if one deems something 100 points, does that mean it’s perfect? How can a wine be perfect if it doesn’t cook you dinner, and clean up for you after? It’s subjective I suppose.
Hyperbole is heavily draped over the hollow brittle bones of so much of modern discourse, and it says absolutely nothing. Everything is either the best there’s ever been, or else it’s horseshit. The Orange Orangutan communicated almost entirely in hyperbole, which has a lot to do with his inexplicable appeal to the simplest among us, and which found him in the highest office in the land. If “best” and “worst” are your only two guide pegs, conversation doesn’t even need words anymore, just grunts and shouts. We’re number 1! We’re Number 1! C’mon, say it with me now! The exponential curve took flight under Bush the Younger when he looked into the world’s camera and said, “You’re either for the family, or you’re against it.” If those were the only two choices, Georgie, I guess I was against it (or at least your version thereof).
All that having been said, the first side of Dave Rawlings’ Nashville Obsolete might be perfect, if there is such a thing. It’s 112 out of a possible 100 points. Like a 14/10 dog. It’s old school sad cowboy music, immaculately recorded on old school analog gear, and the lyrical storytelling is deeply literary. This record is the highest art in its genre I have come across possibly ever, and I assure you, I’ve looked. Hat tip to Townes Van Zandt. If I lived this life 100 times, in every one of them, there’s a night around this time when I listen to “The Weekend”, “Short Haired Woman Blues”, and “The Trip” four times in a row, each at increasing volume and proximity to the speakers. Winning. Life well lived. For real. That’s what great music is worth. You’re welcome to disagree, and be wrong. Ooh, I left that side on the turntable, maybe just one more spin before flipping it…. [insert auditory bliss about here]
We now return to the collective trauma of daily modern life, already in progress: It seems we were just getting used to the national blood pressure slowly coming down when the new variant kicked the virus back into high gear, and mask mandates (and potential vaccine mandates) are again coming down from on high. As a lifelong contrarian, I am certainly one of those people who is inherently opposed to anything forced upon me by any powers that be, but as a stark empiricist and a lifelong subscriber to the virtues of the scientific method, I know there’s a reason I’ve never met someone with the Mumps, Polio, or Whooping Cough. And with the advent of this new breed of mRNA vaccines, the new shots are safer than ever before, as they no longer need to contain dead, modified, or partial versions of the actual virus to be effective. Yet somehow masks and vaccines have brought an already existentially fractured society to a precarious 7th dimensional crossroad. Three dimensional chess is so passé.
Where does that leave us? I have no earthly idea. We’re back to every moment in our daily lives being unprecedented to the power of uncertainty. How are we going to keep everyone as safe as possible and stay in business? Well, that’s day to day now, and seemingly forever. It looks as though we’re heading back into a period of mask wearing here in the shop for foreseeable future, with the exception of those actively tasting. But as of this week, it is still voluntary for vaccinated people (which is the vast majority of you). Semi-related, about 3 days after we removed the in-store mask mandate, I came down with some unknown sniffles which persist in varying degrees to this day. Regardless of all other things, there is something to be said for a modest barrier between one’s breathing apparatus and the bowl smoking ocean of pathogens floating atop the farmers market of our air supply.
Speaking of which, this week’s in-store tasting is with our friend, Richard, at Wine for the World, who will be showing three lovely natural wines by Bosman (South Africa). This Thursday (4-6pm), Richard will be pouring you FREE tastes of Bosman Fides (skin contact Grenache Blanc), Bosman Twyfeling Cinsault (red), and Bosman’s delightfully fresh PetNat. As usual, all are 10% off, tasting day only!
On top of this, we’re offering a discount on the world’s first rosé Prosecco! While this is already popular with a bunch of you, it’s flown under the radar a bit and we haven’t had a chance to properly feature it. Jeio Prosecco Rosé is bright and fresh, with a delightfully delineated red berry character, without any real sweetness, and is equally comfortable with or without food. Click below to grab a discounted 3-pack, or a more discounted 6-pack, this week only!
