It's a funny thing, patriotism.

I'm normally the last person to call myself a patriot, but since moving abroad I've found that my levels of fondness for my homeland have increased. Some of this is a case of absence making the heart grow fonder and some of it is seeing your country from the outside, learning how others see it, and noticing how your feelings have the ability to change after having that outsider's view. 


Last week, I saw Lord Huron perform in London. They're a talented band who puts on a great show and I came away a bigger fan than I was going in.

But one thing about Lord Huron is their slightly ironic, but mostly genuine, take on the American West. They all wore khaki, denim, and chambray (though I doubt a proper cowboy would be familiar with the term chambray ). The lead singer  with his "aw shucks" demeanor wore a cowboy hat which he tipped often, and the backdrop was an image of rolling hills. And standing there, in dark, booze-filled bar on a freakin' cold and rainy spring night in London, I was glad to call myself American and tip my (metaphorical) hat right back.