6.28.2004
joanna newsome, in two parts
1. joanna newsome plays the harp. and, upon seeing her perform last wednesday (with previously-posted-about devendra banhart and espers), i found out she plays a great big harp. like, bigger than a human being. in addition, she writes brilliant, peculiar folk music and sings like a cross between billie holiday and minnie mouse. her voice is alarming at first, perhaps not unlike that of brother danielson, only more effortless and natural. newsom's music seems nostalgic for an imagined past--one that is 100% storybook and most likely too weird to have ever existed-- and, by abolishing conventional claims to authenticity, feels far fresher than most alt-country fare (a tag that would be rather inappropriate). it's really amazing to see someone play a harp in person. and newsome'svoice has the perfect combination of strength and tenderness, which makes for an amazing performance.
2. in addition, newsome's set almost single-handedly re-routed what was turning out to be a rather lousy night for yours truly (no fault of any of the other performers-- all good, of course)... which got me thinking about the role of music in my life, and the way a good song can fill in the blanks of missed communications and failed connections. i guess we go through our day-to-day with a certain assumption that one-on-one interaction is the primary mode of intimate experience. and great music-- or to get even more bloated than that, great art-- is one of the things that can manage to subvert this. newsome's performance contained an intimacy that was deeply appreciated, and reminded me that intimacy can go airbourne, so to speak. it can get thick in the air. it can say farewell to the guys and galls that birthed it. and it can show up again as a tune in your ear.
2. in addition, newsome's set almost single-handedly re-routed what was turning out to be a rather lousy night for yours truly (no fault of any of the other performers-- all good, of course)... which got me thinking about the role of music in my life, and the way a good song can fill in the blanks of missed communications and failed connections. i guess we go through our day-to-day with a certain assumption that one-on-one interaction is the primary mode of intimate experience. and great music-- or to get even more bloated than that, great art-- is one of the things that can manage to subvert this. newsome's performance contained an intimacy that was deeply appreciated, and reminded me that intimacy can go airbourne, so to speak. it can get thick in the air. it can say farewell to the guys and galls that birthed it. and it can show up again as a tune in your ear.
