Our girl Lucinda in the New Yorker this week...

Lu in the afternoon by Nick Paumgarten
There are few things more perilous on tour than a free afternoon. Lucinda Williams, the singer and songwriter, had one during a swing through the city not long ago to play a couple of gigs. “Last time I was in New York, we went to Trash and Vaudeville, and I spent—how much, honey?” Honey was her manager and husband of two years, Tom Overby, a mild and lanky Minnesotan. They were out on the sidewalk in Cooper Square in the dying light of an idle Sunday. They hadn’t been awake long. (Williams sleeps past noon while on tour.) “This was before we realized we were broke,” Williams went on. “I spent, like, eight thousand dollars.” So shopping was out. Instead, it was decided, they would get a drink. A few blocks away, they found an airy Italian restaurant, sat down at the bar, and ordered a bottle of Brunello. The bartender, sensing something, poured Williams the first taste. “Mmm, yeah, that’s good,” she said.  Read more