I’m about a week late posting these comments about Melissa Ferrick’s show at Babeville’s basement club The Ninth Ward, but you can chalk it up to me still getting my wits back after being thoroughly blown away. Well, not really. You can chalk it up to laziness. Still, the singer/songwriter was in top form, playing beautifully constructed songs and positioning them as one side of a lively conversation. Her guitar playing is magnificently fiery at times; I can’t imagine the calluses she must have. Going in not knowing much about Ferrick, I left with a real desire to hear more, and a feeling that I had just taken part in something genuine. Check my review, if you don’t believe me. And if you don’t feel like clicking, then this paragraph that was cut from the story sums up my thoughts: “After a career that began with lots of mainstream promise, the trappings of stardom proved elusive for Melissa Ferrick. And thank god for that, because this music is too nuanced and heartfelt for cold, cavernous arenas. Its copious charms deserve to be heard up close, by a crowd that’s in the moment, ready to catch her if she falls.”