Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Songs of the day: Joanna Newson...

Ladies and Gentlemen, as I know her, Joanna Newsom.

And the tilt of this strange nation
And the will to remain for the duration
Waving the flag
Feeling it drag

A pretty perfect song when you get used to her voice; and hold for the horn.

Twenty miles left to the show
Hello, my old country, hello
Stars are just beginning to appear
And I have never in my life before been here

And it's my heart, not me, who cannot drive
At which conclusion you arrived
Watching me sit here bolt upright and cry
For no good reason at the Eastering sky

And the tilt of this strange nation
And the will to remain for the duration
Waving the flag
Feeling it drag

Like a bump on a bump on a log, baby
Like I'm in a fist fight with a fog, baby
Step-ball-change and a pirouette
And I regret, I regret

How I said to you, "honey, just open your heart"
When I've got trouble even opening a honey jar
And that right there is where we are...

And I been 'fessing double fast
Addressing questions nobody asked
I'll get this joy off of my chest at last
And I will love you 'til the noise has long since passed

And I did not mean to shout, just drive
Just get us out, dead or alive
A road too long to mention, lord, it's something to see!
Laid down by the good intentions paving company

All the way to the thing we've been playing at, darlin'
I can see that you're wearing your staying hat, darlin'
For the time being all is well
Won't you love me a spell?

This is blindness beyond all conceiving
Well, behind us the road is leaving, yeah, leaving
And falling back
Like a rope gone slack

Well, I saw straight away that the lay was steep
But I fell for you, honey, as easy as falling asleep
And that right there is the course I keep...

And no amount of talking
Is going to soften the fall
But, like after the rain, step out
Of the overhang, that's all

It had a nice a ring to it
When the ol' opry house rang
So with a solemn auld lang
Signed, sealed, delivered, I sang

And there is hesitation
And it always remains
Concerning you, me,
And the rest of the gang

And in our quiet hour
I feel I see everything
And am in love with the hook
Upon which everyone hangs

And I know you meant to show the extent
To which you gave a goddang
You ranged real hot and real cold but I'm sold
I am home on that range

And I do hate to fold
Right here at the top of my game
When I've been trying with my whole heart and soul
To stay right here in the right lane

But it can make you feel over and old
Lord, you know it's a shame
When I only want for you to pull over and hold me
'Til I can't remember my own name

Man, sorry, I was about to post this on the facebook until I learned she wasn't Canadian.

Does that make a difference?


Still an ok song ;) And album.

Here's Baby Birch. It's a gorgeous song.

This is the song for Baby Birch.
I will never know you.

And at the back of what we've done,
there is the knowledge of you.

Well I wish we could take every path.
I could spend a hundred years
adoring you.

Yes, I wish we could take every path,
cuz you know I hated to close
the door on you.

Do you remember staring
up at the stars,
so far away in their bulletproof cars?
When we heard the rushing slow intake
of the dark, dark water,
and the engine breaks,
and I say,

"How about them engine breaks?
And, if I should die before I wake,
will you keep an eye on Baby Birch?"
Because I'd hate to see her
make the same mistakes.

When it was dark,
I called and you came.
When it was dark, I saw shapes.
When I see stars, I feel, in your hand,
and I see stars,
and I reel, again.

Well mercy me. I'll be goddamned.
It's been a long, long time
since I last saw you.

And I have never known the plan.
It's been a long, long time.
How are you?

Your eyes are green. Your hair is gold.
Your hair is black. Your eyes are blue.

I closed the ranks, and I doubled back--
but, you know, I hated to close
the darkened door on you.

We take a walk along the dirty lake.
Hear the goose cussing,
at me over her egg.
Your poor little cousin.
I don't want your dregs
A little baby fussing all over my legs.

There is a blacksmith,
and there is a shepherd,
and there is a butcher-boy,
and there is a barber, who's cutting
and cutting away at my only joy.
I saw a rabbit,
as slick as a knife,
and as pale as a candlestick,
and I had thought it'd be harder to do,
but I caught her, and skinned her quick:
held her there,
kicking and mewling,
upended, unspooling, unsung and blue;
told her "wherever you go,
little runaway bunny,
I will find you."
And then she ran,
as they're liable to do.

Be at peace, baby, and begone.
Be at peace, baby, and begone.

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