When Dave Alvin released his second solo album, “Blue Blvd,” in 1991, the Washington Post reviewer complimented it by saying the songs were like Raymond Carver stories. Alvin once told an interviewer that because he never became a star, he didn’t travel in a plane or tour bus, so he was free to observe the people he writes about.
This one is a good example — musically it’s a bluesy country song, but no Nashville tunesmith would serve up such a raw, unsweetened slice of life as Alvin’s young couple sitting in a coffee shop before going to the abortion clinic. Like Carver, he presents stark reality without sentiment or judgment, leaving the listener to sift meaning from the ambiguity.
