This was the old ending to the Young Widows article I wrote in November. I have revised that review if you’d like to check it out.

This feeling, this idea of need, not the want to make music, the overwhelming weight of having to make it almost out of compulsion. Almost like the Christian who feels the calling of God to abandon friends and family for the people of a nation they have never visited so they can “save the lost” do artists like Patterson feel as though atoned by the spiritual act of strumming. I can relate. I too hear, comprehend and speak the language of God through the whisper of song.

Albeit ours, Even Patterson’s and mine own, are a bit louder than whispers, and most do not speak the same language as we do. But for those who saw Young Widows at the Bluebird that Tuesday, and who were also filled with the holy ghost with the small flame dancing above their heads and in front of their eyes; they heard, understood and are now speaking of the overwhelming love, beauty and rolled R’s of the vernacular with which God speaks through the music of Young Widows.