I first saw Rouse play out in 2007, at a storied club called the Tin Angel on Second Street. The Tin Angel show was in support of a then-forthcoming album "Country Mouse, City House," a marginal collection of songs compared with previous masterpieces "Subtitulo" and "Nashville." He's mellow. He's soulful. His lyrics tell textured stories about people who have screwed themselves into the dirt. "A Man Who ..." is one example: "He used to walk in Central Park where / At least a dozen women broke his heart / And there he'd sit and think about his past." He also writes about lost chances, lost battles and lost memories, among other things both found and misplaced.
Furthermore, his diverse catalog of work proves he has no trouble finding ways to outshine and reinvent himself. Rouse, who was born and raised in Nebraska, made his mark in Nashville and even farther-flung points before meeting the woman who eventually became his wife. The couple has since moved to Spain, and the experience appears to have heavily influenced his latest gem of an album called "El Turista"; he sings nearly half of the album's tracks in Spanish with, near as I can tell, perfect delivery. On the whole, "El Turista" seems sunnier than his previous albums, and his World Cafe Live performance was comparatively upbeat next to his 2007 show. It makes one wonder if escaping the Midwest and living abroad -- settling in with a family -- has brightened his outlook. I've never been to Spain, but it's a close second to France in terms of European countries I hope to visit: lush flower-dotted hillsides, ancient architecture, tapas, wine-induced siestas, etc. As the title of Rouse's new album suggests, maybe he's comfortable being a full-time tourist and enjoying the treasures of a foreign land ... that is, when he's not playing small stages in the States.
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