September 12, 2006


Last night I sat across a table from Joanna Newsom for one hour and fifteen minutes with a tape recorder. Upon meeting her I realized I hardly knew what she looked like a'tall. I had only glanced at one photo of her once, her little ear poking up through cascading rope hair and other than that had only seen paintings and drawings. In real life she doesn't look like either. I was startled by what an arresting sparkle she was. Is. The real quintuple threat: articulate, engaging, smart, funny and personable company. People like that, you expect an attitude of noblesse oblige, but one gets the sense she hardly has an inkling of her specialness and if she does, she's not about to bring it to anyone's attention.

Afterwards I felt like I should of brought her a present. Like a peach or something. The discussion of her use of the word "treacly" was worth a peach alone.

I did not like her music so much til this week, til Ys came in the mail. There is song on it about a monkey and a bear, about love held fast in a tender pact, when I listened, it gave me a feeling. When I read the words, it felt like I had swallowed a rock. Mostly stole my breath, pert near cried. The ending is so bittersweet. All last two weeks I was wishing for a record I could sink my brain and mind into, a record you have to revisit and read passages in books in order to coalesce a greater understanding, to goad yrself deeper into it's water; and I got it. This is it, a gift to marvel yr most curious "How?" about.

Posted by Jessica at September 12, 2006 01:43 PM | TrackBack