Yet Another MP3less Project: Vs. Ys

BRING IT, BITCH

I'm not going to lie: I really, really, really want to hate this album. You'd think, of course, that it would be right down my alley; given (1) the passive acceptance of folkie hippie bullshit instilled in me by a chance encounter with Liege & Leaf earlier this year, and (2) my undying love for all things obstreperous and rambly, I'm honestly a little shocked I don't own, like, eight copies of Ys just in case I should happen to lose seven. What I object to, I think, is mostly its presumptuousness in coming out now; everything I've read about Ys so far positively reeks of an album maniacally driven to pigeonhole itself at the expense of its, y'know, music, and that shit never sits well with me (q.v. every Fiery Furnaces record ever). Still, though, with the volume and ferocity of the praise that Ys has been on the end of, I figure it would just be blockheaded of me to write the album off completely; it seems to me that the only fair way to resolve the situation would be to listen to Ys all the way through and keep a running diary of the experience. So let's do that.

00:00 - I should mention before I start this project that I tried this last night and couldn't even make it five minutes into a song without literally recoiling in discomfort for her voice at least three times. I suppose there's a lesson to be learned when I can't even listen to a record even when baked enough to barely cling to consciousness, but then again anyone who turns to a MP3 blogger for lessons deserves exactly what they get.

"Emily"

00:06 - We have our first "Chim-Cheree" sighting. I get the feeling that a lot of this is going to involve me directly transcribing lyrics. It's really kind of important how embarassing they are.

01:11 - The irony of Joanna Newsom releasing this record in the same year when Scott Walker releases The Drift is just sweeping. I mean, it's like they both got lost and ended up at each others' recording sessions.

02:56 - NEVER MAKE THAT SOUND AGAIN, JOANNA

05:16 - OK, Parks' arrangement is really starting to swell now and BOY is it ever good. Anyone calling this album "Disneyesque" is way off the mark - this has the same sort of dynamic as the (magnificent) Jon Brion mix of Fiona Apple's Extraordinary Machine if it took its sweet-ass time dawdling through its gratification schedule. Around this point, a couple of violins start swirling in earnest in the background of the track and it's momentarily almost enough to get me to stop fixating on how Joanna's voice sounds someone strangling a duck to death in their armpit. Almost.

09:46 - Mouth-harp! MDSONG's album of the year!

10:26 - Part of me wonders if Newsom's trying to be coy on this record. I literally have no way of knowing; her voice is literally among the three or four most atonal sounds I've ever heard.

11:54 - I'm not going to lie - that really wasn't too bad.

"Monkey & Bear"

00:09 - "Where the monkey and the bear/Usually play" POOF, every shred of goodwill earned above gone in a heartbeat.

01:50 - Now the titular monkey and bear are talking about eating stuff. Have I mentioned that nine times out of ten, child-like whimsey can suck my dick? It suddenly seems relevant.

03:22 - Joanna Newsom has just warbled the words "dance" and "my darlin'" something like forty times in the last fifty seconds. I have stumbled upon the aural equivalent of making out with Renee Zellwegger.

04:44 - Yeah, Parks pretty clearly saved all his best stuff for that first track - not that this arrangement just sits there hung on its own notation or anything, but compared to "Emily" it just kinda sounds like that moment in the kids' movies where the toys all come to life at night, only stretched out for nine minutes. Not so much a fan.

05:23 - How the fuck do you pronouce "dust" as "dost"? Especially when you're trying to rhyme it with "us"?

06:45 - God, every time I think I couldn't give less of a shit about monkeys and bears she just keeps slamming the jackhammer of narrative down on my head. GODDAMMIT WOMAN, I LISTEN TO CLIPSE RECORDS, I CLEARLY DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOUR ABILITY TO WEAVE ENCHANTING TALES FROM THE TAPESTRY OF MUSIC OR WHATEVER.

08:35 - Okay, even with a minute left on the clock I feel pretty secure in describing that as being substantially less awesome than any comparable Decembrists song ever. Yes, I mean that.

"Sawdust & Diamonds"

00:56 - I do have to admit that, for someone who made their name at least partially on their reliance on a harp, this album is pretty damned harp-free - this is literally the first time I've been like "hey, a harp", and need I remind you that we're already TWENTY-ONE MINUTES OF MUSIC into this album. Really, it's been all about those violins and woodwinds. Hey, whaddyaknow; Joanna Newsom isn't even essential to her career-defining record!

02:17 - It's uncanny - every time I start to type out something about getting acclimated to her voice, she starts doing that godawful shrill Van Morrison-esque Hey Guys I'm Really A Conduit For All This Music bullshit.

02:28 - Okay, credit where it's due - this song definitely moves into its chorus well. Parks' arrangements may actually not be doing her a whole bunch of good - when they're big and showy, they tend to just highlight the bag-of-cats-being-swung-at-another-bag-of-cats-ness of her voice. When they're restrained and unobtrusive (like here, for instance), the way she launches into certain passages almost comes off as compelling. Really, if this were anyone other than Joanna Newsom, I guarantee you that I wouldn't be capable of shutting up about this same exact album, stupid bear shit and everything.

05:25 - Ye gods, I think she swallowed a whistle.

06:42 - I will freely admit that I assuredly haven't been paying close enough attention to this record to pick up on any of its narrative sophistication; this is enough of a war of attrition as it is.

07:33 - "IT TOLLS FOR ME! IT TOLLS FOR ME!" It most certainly doesn't toll for me.

08:29 - Again, credit where it's due - she does have an undeniable knack for writing rhymes that scan really, really well, especially if you look at individual lines.

09:24 - GET ON WITH IT

"Only Skin"

00:00 - Okay, so look: this isn't nearly as bad as I was thinking it would be. Granted, it couldn't possibly have been as bad as I was thinking it would be, but still, it needs to be said. Having done so, the next order of business is to point out that it's not-too-crappy in the worst way possible - the way which prevents me from enjoying how much I hate it. Trust me, artists of the world - the response you absolutely never want to inspire is a constant vacillation between "eh" and "GOD NO". I mean, it's such a consumptive mediocrity that I've managed to write about it for four and a half minutes worth of this song. Of course, said song is nearly seventeen minutes long, so I call this a push.

05:20 - Ditto for her voice - my little sister went to a performing arts magnet school, so believe me when I say that I've heard voices this bad before. Unfortunately, Newsom's voice is also pretty remarkably studied - meaning that while she can definitely hit the notes she's going for, the route she takes to do so involves plowing through a (figurative) throng of toddlers and nuns waiting for the bus.

07:23 - I would bet enormous sums that every single critic who gave this album a positive review immediately started working in references to Newsom's "eastern" influences upon reaching this section of this song. Enormous sums.

08:09 - Good lord, is she singing in tongues? Would anyone even be able to tell?

08:48 - Okay, Parks' strings are really saving this one. I get the feeling that if they had voices, they'd all be going "B-I-G-P-O-P-P-A/No info/For the/DEA" right about now.

09:55 - "Last week our picture window"... is not a particularly promising way to begin a line.

10:52 - Jesus, people, I apologize a trillion times for making you suffer through this carnival of tedium, but I didn't listen to four-fifths of this thing just to give up now. Don't worry, though - the short-n-sweet pop song's up next (seven-and-a-quarter minutes, ugh)

11:50 - Yeah, fuck everything I said about sedate arrangements suiting her better.

12:36 - Have I mentioned all the double-tracking on this album yet? I have to admit, it's actually slightly engaging - given how (let's be charitable and say) singular Newsom's voice is, playing it off itself actually leads to some interesting moments. Of course, I listen to Steve Reich's phase works like the kids listen to Those Pussy Doll Cats or whatever, so YMMV

13:39 - What the fuck? A dude? Have we reached Ys' weed-holder track?

14:55 - Really digging the accordion right now. The rest of the backing track just kinda frittered itself away (maybe the critical touchstone should be less Disney than Pixar), but the accordion really is a nice little touch.

"Cosmia"

00:01 - MAN I CAN'T WAIT TO PLAY SOME WII SPORTS

00:13 - This is instantly the Bjorkiest track on here, and that takes some doin'.

00:58 - What the hell is up with the way her voice squeaks when she really starts EMOTING!!! on a line? I keep thinking the mice in my walls are farting like crazy. God, would that ever be preferable.

02:10 - Okay, there's that Parks cinematic sweep. Welcome back, old chum! Been missing you these last few tracks!

02:44 - Jeez, he's really just letting these violins walk around wherever they want. Although I suppose he's got enough time.

03:14 - YES. BROADWAY DRUMS. DAT-DAT-DAT-DADATDAT REPEAT. This album would be only stand to gain from a Shark/Jet knife fight.

05:05 - "Beat our dust-hearts/Hear our FLWOWRN BLRNS"? More importantly, am I actually passing up a chance to make fun of the usage of "dust-hearts"?

06:10 - Okay, it's official - I have grown bored with this album. Congratulations, Joanna Newsom - you've made mocking shrieking harpies un-fun. Quite an accomplishment, that.

06:50 - GOD THIS SONG JUST KEEPS ON GOING. Something about a "precious heart". OH WAIT THERE'S THE END THANK YOU JESUS.

Conclusions:

1. Heavily textual albums are incredibly poor subjects for real-time reviews. I have nothing but confidence that I'd have found something real meaty-like to hate-bite into if I'd sat down and pondered the lyrics or the "stories" being told - I mean, here, I'm just going to copy and paste blindly from LyricsWeb just to see what comes up:

Scrub your knee, there's only skin
Makes a sound of violins
And you call upon the dusk
Of the musk of the squid
Shot full of ink until you sink
Into your crib

See? Utter inane bullshit.

2. Midlake did this same album (exceedingly textual indie-pop album striving for "period" above all else) earlier this year and it was at least seventy to eighty million times better, thus proving once and for all that Fleetwood Mac > troubadours. SUCK IT, WILLIAM OF AQUITAINE.

3. Van Dyke Parks is the lord thy god. Someone on ILX suggested that she would have been better off working with someone like Wolfgang Rihm, which makes total sense as far as complementing her preposterous atonality but absolutely none whatsoever when it comes to making a record that any semi-reasonable person would ever want to listen to. Given the sheer volume of Joanna Newsom Making Musical Noise Into A Microphone on this album, it's probably unfair to penalize him for not saving the album outright, but he certainly saved more moments than had a right to be saved off this album, and that certainly counts for something.

4. My interest in this project was spurred on in part by Cindy Hotpoint mentioning her feverish cupidity for a copy of it on vinyl; having heard it now, I can absolutely agree, because for all its faults, Ys absolutely has some motherfuckin' presence. I would imagine that that extra layer of vinyl warmth makes those strings really sound great in particular - even on compressed-ass MP3, they had a habit of sailing in and brightening whatever segment they were brought in to illuminate.

5. If this is the best album of the year, then I'll (INSERT BOILERPLATE GENITAL TRAUMA INFLICTION, POSSIBLY INVOLVING THE PEE-HOLE). This album is in no way compelling other than as an object of hate or, conceivably, an object of adulation for Van Dyke Parks, and to say it's better-conceived than Silent Shout - hell, to say it's better than Port of Miami - is utter lunacy considering its unearned self-importance. It's not a bad album, but sorting through ten minutes of conversation between a bear and a monkey just seems like a rather needless exercise; again, I'll admit that I in no way did right by Ys' narrative thrust, but I just can't see the need for it. Or at least not for all of it. I mean, the Knife were more pretentious by factors of ten, but at least they demonstrated some sort of interest in letting you get past it, for fuck's sake.

6. Joanna Newsom needs to never be allowed around a microphone again. I see no reason why we can't achieve the same effect by simply sitting on Bjork.