Thursday, September 21, 2006

Joanna Newsom

Engineered by THE Steven Albini? Produced by THE Jim O'Rourke? Arrangements by THE one and only Van Dyke Parks? This should be THE works, then? A good record it is, of course. With that kind of creative input any less would have been a crime. On top of that, when you get no more than five tracks, you know this baby is going to scream: "Pro-o-o-o-g!" And that's what it does, alright, with 'Only Skin' elegantly crossing the dreaded 15-minute line. Strangely, the hiring of the mentioned intergalactic trio taken into account, it is the pixie-voiced Newsom herself who is assuming firm control of these five medieval mini-opera's, with her expressive vocals (that have an even greater emotional reach than on The Milk-eyed Mender) and harp doing most, if not all, of the hard work. And the sleeve art, with that window looking straight out into Middle Earth, really suits her, don't you think? Maybe not the record of the year, but this is not bad, not bad at all.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Devendra Banhart?!

Try Bill Callahan...

Fire in the Mind said...

indeed :-)

Martijn said...

She took me off my guard with disappointment
I got sucked inside of her apartment
She's got dried up flowers, flaky skin
A beaded necklace, a bottle of gin
She's a nitemare hippy girl
With her skinny fingers fumbling my world
She's a whimsical, tragical beauty
Self-conscious and a little bit fruity

It's a new-age letdown in my face
She's so spaced out and there ain't no space
She's got marijuana on the bathroom tile
I'm caught in a vortex, she's changing my style
She's a nitemare hippy girl
With her skinny fingers fumbling my world
She's a whimsical, tragical beauty
Uptight and a little bit snooty

She's a magical, sparkling tease
She's a rainbow choking the breeze
Yeah oh, she's busting out onto the scene
With nitemare bogus poetry
She's a melted avocado on the shelf
She's the science of herself
She's spazzing out on a cosmic level
And she's meditating with the devil
She's cooking salad for breakfast
She's got tofu the size of Texas
She's a witness to her own glory
She's a neverending story
She's a frolicking depression
She's a self-inflicted obsession
She's got a thousand lonely husbands
She's playing footsie in another dimension
She's a goddess milking her time
For all that it's worth