Old wine, old songs, daily service
There’s a guy on social media who starts each day with a record and a cup of coffee. Here’s the scene: The guy puts an album on the turntable, first record of the day, then starts recording a video with his phone, same spot in his kitchen every time, full head of white hair, sometimes fresh-out-of-bed messy.
He pours cream into a ceramic cup, usually some exotic ornate pottery from a faraway place, then adds a healthy pour of light, medium, or dark roast coffee. He shows us the cover of the album while swaying to the music and taking his first delicious sip of coffee. He closes his eyes after the taste, satisfaction on his face. Doesn’t say a word the whole time. More swaying, another sip or two, a knowing nod and grin, and he shuts off the recording.
I like watching this guy. His whole ritual takes about a minute and change each morning. He sets aside time each day for ritual, and I dig it. The practice and ceremony of doing something, of being present, of having presence. Drinking better coffee, and slowly out of a noble mug. Listening to a whole album on the turntable before leaving for work in the morning. Or better yet, putting work off for a bit to write about the album, the coffee, the morning, anything, big ears and warm belly, in a journal, pen scratching on paper for pages.
Today our hero spun “Guitar Town,” the lead and title track from Steve Earle’s 1986 debut album. Whole lifetimes have come and gone and come again for Earle and most of us old timers since then and the song endures, forever audacious and determined.
The strumming guitar and kick drum intro set us up for an adventure down highways and backroads from Tennessee to Texas. Earle asks, his first words on the record, “hey pretty baby, are you ready for me?,” his snarl and twang setting us up for some good times we may or likely may not be able to keep up with.
The whole band falls in, Steve singing about his rambles, an organ rumbles like wheels on pavement, and the now classic guitar riff kicks up boots and spirits. Nothin' ever happened 'round my hometown and I ain't the kind to just hang around / But I heard someone callin' my name one day and I followed that voice down the lost highway. The energy is restless. Every day, every town, every road is a chase after a promise made to be broken.
Opening an old bottle of wine can be like following a voice down a lost highway. Some, like a first growth Bordeaux or the 1993 Ravenswood Wood Road Belloni Vineyard Zinfandel we had at Thanksgiving, can consistently delight in their advanced age. Singing, like wine nerds like to say. Others, like the 1993 Alderbrook Syrah from Shiloh Hill Vineyard that I inexpensively acquired in an auction last fall, are a broken promise.
I wanted to believe this wine from the Russian River Valley in Sonoma would be stellar these 33 years on. I beamed with hope, but facts stacked up about the wine and dimmed those rays. The Alderbrook winery closed about 15 or so years ago. There’s no record of Shiloh Hill Vineyard being a Syrah vineyard except for this bottle. (Searches turned up only a Chardonnay winery and vineyard under the Shiloh Hill name. Makes sense. Many vineyards in the 1990s pulled out their Syrah vines for others that would sell well, like Chardonnay.)
There’s one reference to the wine online in a 1995 article about Syrah in the Chicago Tribune, calling it a “more substantial interpretation” of Syrah “in need of a lot of air or another 2 to 3 years’ bottle age.” The article listed the retail price at the time as $12. And still, I bought this bottle in an online auction for not much more than that in 2025. I was the only bidder.
I opened the bottle on a Monday after work at about 5:00 p.m. Decanted, lots of crustiness and sediment, browning color, and all tertiary aromas of dried fruit and old wood. Thirty minutes later, tired, so lackluster in every way. This wine once had substance, it’s on record, but its spirit was gone. The promise faded and eventually broken. I poured it out.
So it goes with old bottles and old songs and our daily service to both.