Dear Jay,

Remember me? I was jostling to be in the front row at the Blue Note during the Trace days.

I came to see you open for ZZ Top in Milwaukee.

I thought the "Jay Farrar Ascetic Lifestyle" was the funniest thing ever. (So did this guy.)

I wore out my first Trace CD through overuse. I dutifully bought Straightaways and Wide Swing Tremolo, despite the fact that they didn't quite compare to Trace.

Then there was your solo thing. Which was okay. The lyrical work on Sebastopol was great — I mean, who else could possibly sing about "sanguinary vitamins." The politics of Terroir Blues were right on. But something was missing. Then there was Stone, Steel and Bright Lights, the only songs of which I could stomach the were the covers "Lucifer Sam" and "Like a Hurricane."

I have to admit, though, when Son Volt reformed, I skipped Okemah and the Melody of Riot. The samples I heard did absolutely nothing for me.

But now ... there's The Search. And it's so good. It's as un-selfconscious as Trace.

"Coltrane free" is one of my new favorite songs. I know you don't sing love songs, but you sure know how to sing about women. (And I don't even mind the sitar.)

You're back, singing about coffee and cigarettes and heresy and oh, my, I think I might love every song on this album. And that hasn't happened since Trace.

So thanks. And maybe I'll see you in Austin.

Abba