Peridyd's Progress

And the signifieds butt heads with the signifiers,

and we all fall down slack-jawed to marvel at words!

When across the sky sheet the impossible birds,

in a steady, illiterate movement homewards.

Now that I (hopefully) have your attention....

I was introduced to Joanna Newsom's music by David D. who gave me a CD mix with Peach, Plum, Pear on it. I enjoyed the track so much that Amy gifted me with The Milk-Eyed Mender, the album on which Peach, Plum, Pear was released, for Christmas. Without David, I doubt that this aging hippie could find any new music worth listening to, but this time David's gone above and beyond the call of duty.

I'm listening to The Milk-Eyed Mender this morning, and I'm near speechless (can't you tell?) listening to the gorgeous lyrics and unusual blend of blues, harpsichord, harp, and Appalachian vocals.

Let me underscore this. Notwithstanding Tracy Grammer and Dave Carter, Newsom's lyrics are the finest I've had the pleasure of hearing in years. The finest.

The finest.

If, like me, you're longing for a spark for your musical palate, if your tastes are firmly plant in Indie roots, if you enjoy well-crafted lyrics that endlessly offer up more than it would be fair for you to expect of them, then Newsom's just what you're looking for.

This Side of the Blue

by Joanna Newsom

Svetlana sucks lemons across from me,
and I am progressing abominably.
And I do not know my own way to the sea
but the saltiest sea knows its own way to me.

The city that turns, turns protracted and slow
and I find myself toeing th' embarcadero
and I find myself knowing the things that I knew
which is all that you can know on this side of the blue

And Jaime has eyes black and shiny as boots
and they march at you, two-by-two (re - loo - re - loo);
when she looks at you, you know she's nowhere near through:
it's the kindest heart beating this side of the blue.

And the signifieds butt heads with the signifiers,
and we all fall down slack-jawed to marvel at words!
When across the sky sheet the impossible birds,
in a steady, illiterate movement homewards.

And Gabriel stands beneath forest and moon.
See them rattle & boo, see them shake, see them loom.
See him fashion a cap from a page of Camus;
see him navigate deftly this side of the blue.

And the rest of our lives will the moments accrue
when the shape of their goneness will flare up anew.
when we do what we have to do (re - loo - re -loo),
which is all you can do on this side of the blue.