By Roy Kasten
By Kris Wernowsky
By Chaz Kangas
By Joseph Hess
By Julie Seabaugh
By Mike Appelstein
By Rachel Brodsky
By Kelsey McClure
But just because Buckner's ready to leave Brooklyn (that's what he said, right?) doesn't mean that he knows where he's going next.
"We have no idea," he says. "We could go upstate. We could go south, you know. We've had all sorts of ideas. Let's go to Alabama and my girlfriend can go hang out for a time and learn from the Gee's Bend quilters and I'll live in Selma and we'll have some experiences and hit things different ways. Maybe I'll go back to school and become a teacher and work in a fucking Michael's craft store."
So after two marriages, four record labels, countless domiciles and 445,000 miles (there should be a partridge in a pear tree somewhere in there), does Buckner the troubadour ever yearn for the placid, the tranquil, the undisturbed? Or is change a necessary part of the artistic equation?
"No," he says. "As far as, like, keeping the shiny object in front of you, you can do that in other ways besides moving. For me it's totally about what's going on in my life at the time. If I have some house and some fucked-up neighbors, I've got to move. It never has to do with, like, 'I have to change my thing in order to do this.' It's more just about, 'Man, I need to fucking feed myself.' Or, 'I can't take another year in, like, you know, forty-below weather.' It's the normal stuff."
9 p.m. Wednesday, September 27. Blueberry Hill's Duck Room, 6504 Delmar Boulevard, University City. $12. 314-727-4444.