Joanna Newsom: Ys
Ys as close to perfect a record that I've heard in a long time. Every measure is essential. Joanna Newsom's words need no voice, her voice needs no accompaniment, her accompaniment needs no melodies, and her melodies need no words. But they all have each other, and the result is something special.
Review by Dave Anastasi
About eight years ago, I took a music history course at college and for the most part, was bored beyond belief. I found myself doodling on staff paper while the professor droned on about so-and-so who wrote this and that over 900 years ago. Having studied piano since the age of 3, I considered myself to possess an above-average appreciation for "classical" music, but enough was enough.
One morning, we were treated to a lecture on late Renaissance music, and the professor cued up some sound clips of Claudio Monteverdi's L'Orfeo. I was blown away. The melodies floated through the air like butterflies, and though I couldn't understand a word they were saying, it didn't matter-- it was just beautiful. Each short morsel of sound was like a tiny free sample of fudge on the boardwalk: I had to have more. So after the lecture, I skipped my next class, ran to the local record store, took L'Orfeo to my dorm room and listened-- over and over again.
A few weeks ago, history repeated itself when I heard a few clips from Joanna Newsom's latest album entitled Ys.
Monkey & Bear in particular called to mind Monteverdi's great opera. In the "verses", harp and strings fashion the harmony-- sophisticated and almost Baroque, but never cumbersome-- and allow it to freely progress, giving no absolute governance to the meter and tonal center. Newsom's melody navigates the chords effortlessly as she narrates the allegory about love, deception and freedom, and the orchestration and arrangement effectively supports the story word for word.
Speaking of which, a note about the recording process: The initial recordings of these pieces consisted of only Joanna's harp and voice-- the orchestra was added later. You'd never know it though-- the overall sound is very cohesive, thanks to the wonderful arrangements by Van Dyke Parks and the masterful mixing of Jim O'Rourke.
The album's most ambitious piece is also its most accomplished: Only Skin. It's an epic in every sense of the word-- its themes deal with war, humanity, and mortality; its form is complex and unorthodox; and yes, it's almost seventeen minutes long. And while it offers some of the album's strongest moments musically, its words have an even greater impact. It is clear that Newsom is emerging as one of the most talented poets and storytellers in popular music today. Her stories have a wonderful flow to them, and are often sprinkled with alliteration and allusion:
I'm humming a threshing song
Until the night is over, hold on! Hold on!
Hold your horses back from the fickle dawn
I have got some business out at the edge of town
Candy weighing both of my pockets down
'Til I can hardly stay afloat, from the weight of them
(and knowing how the common-folk condemn
What it is I do, to you, to keep you warm
Being a woman, being a woman)But always up the mountainside you're clambering
Groping blindly, hungry for anything:
Picking through your pocket linings - well, what is this?
Scrap of sassafras, eh Sisyphus?I see the blossoms broke and wet after the rain
Little sister, he will be back again
I have washed a thousand spiders down the drain
Spiders ghosts hang soaked and dangelin'
Silently from all the blooming cherry trees
In tiny nooses, safe from everyone
Nothing but a nuisance; gone now, dead and done
Be a woman, be a woman!
Cosmia serves as a nice contrast to Only Skin, and is the record's shortest piece, clocking in at a brisk seven minutes and seventeen seconds. It is also the most conventional song in terms of form. I love the interplay between Joanna's harp and her voice. Each section has an introduction where the harp sets up the progression (and at times the melody too), as if to test the waters. The vocals then follow as the progression is repeated. This call-and-response technique is very effective here.
So much has been written about Ys since it was released to critical acclaim in November, and for good reason. It is as close to perfect a record that I've heard in a long time. Every measure is essential. Joanna Newsom's words need no voice, her voice needs no accompaniment, her accompaniment needs no melodies, and her melodies need no words. But they all have each other, and the result is something special.