Review Summary: This is a beautiful piece of art by one of the most talented musicians of the current century.
Joanna Newsom has traveled a grand path in her albeit relatively short career. She released a few curious, homespun EPs which led to her full length debut, The Milk Eyed Mender, a collection of mostly soft, winding, beautiful harp-based songs. Then within two years took a gargantuan step forward into her second, Ys, a collection of orchestral epics. Differences among the two are jarring, but it was still the same Joanna, because there are certain things in her music that don’t change. She still based all the songs on harp, even leaving its centerpiece, the unbelievably gorgeous ‘Sawdust and Diamonds’, to its barebones infant state. And that voice; that emotional, expressive, keening voice. That divisively tuned voice—with its comparisons to either a small child or an elderly crone (or a beguiling mix of both). And yet, (I can confidently say:), that beautiful voice. No other voice would have fit her aesthetic.
It’s been four years now since any new full length from this songstress. We got a taste of her new direction in the EP that follows Ys, which was less orchestral and more back-woods folk backing band, full of a wooden percussion and chirping guitars. The new direction seemed obvious, honestly: Why try and outdo the grandiosity of Ys? It would be nearly impossible. And with that she disappeared from view for a long time. Starting about a year and a half ago, though, she began playing a new song here and a new song there, the number of them slowly amassing. This led to more and more anticipation and suspicion for a new full length. And after four years, we got what we asked for. But I don’t think anything would have prepared us for this.
This is
Have One on Me, and it is quite a journey. This album is split across 3 discs and spans widely across two hours and four minutes of running time. Is this what we asked for? Not exactly. I would have been perfectly content with an hour’s worth, since that has been beyond sufficient in the past. (And even her 24 minute EP was satisfying with the content is contained.) But this, this is a whole new level. I was not prepared for this. And yet, when the news broke of a three-disc release from one of my all-time favorite artists, I really couldn’t have been more excited. I knew she probably had enough material for it (her under the radar show at SXSW last year was said to be nearly 2 hours of new material, and her Sydney Opera House show last month was an hour and a half.) This was a brilliant bit of news.
So is it as good as we all hoped it’d be? Yes. Of course. At this point in her short but powerful and imaginative career, I wouldn’t expect anything she does to be less than satisfactory. And even if you don’t like her voice (as so many non-fans appoint as their main issue) you can truly admire her composition skills, lyrical prowess, and not to mention that wondrous harp playing ability she has. This is a fantastic album to represent all of her best assets, including her voice, which, for me, is just another lovely instrument to illustrate her epic, beautiful storytelling, as on the 11-minute title track, which moves through many phases before entering a rollicking breakdown in the third quarter. Her voice becomes such a powerful instrument, in contest with the surrounding instruments, creating an immediately intense atmosphere, which then trails off into a dazzling wordless refrain.
This isn’t the only case of her exemplary stature in her little niche. Those surrounding instruments reoccur throughout; the guitar, the percussion, the muted but glorious horns, the lovely strings. “Good Intentions Paving Company,” the most upbeat track, feels summery in its warm musical clothing, ending with a coda of trombone that just makes you smile. Similarly, “Soft as Chalk,” benefits greatly from the powerful, fiery musicality that supports its first half. It’s all similarly enchanting but differently effecting. Each one of these songs hits you in a slightly different way. “Good Intentions” is warm and fuzzy, where “Soft as Chalk” is stomping and heated. She also has gained a new love of piano, using it instead to back a few lovely songs like the gentle, welcoming “Easy.”
That’s not to say she’s abandoned her roots. In fact, there’s more evidence of her original stance here than on Ys. Ys only had one harp-only song. This has a few, and many that rely on little more. “81” is a fine example. It’s the closest the album comes to having a possible single, with its shorter running time and beautiful, complex melody. It’s nearly flawless. “Baby Birch,” with its quiet harp augmented with short bursts of electric guitar, is tranquil and beautiful at first, before erupting to a rousing finale. Even better is mid-album ballad “Go Long,” which does stretch to the eight minute mark, but could go on for ten more if I had anything to say about it. Easily the most beautiful song she’s ever written.
Her voice on all of these songs is stronger than ever. It has matured much since the Yarn & Glue days of old, and it helps make her songs, that are already more accessible than before, even more likable. The wondrous pair of “You and Me, Bess” and “In California” sport two of her smartest and most catchy melodies, the latter more confessional than she has often been. Even the smaller songs like “Ribbon Bows,” “Jackrabbits,” and (the less than two minute-) “On a Good Day,” have extremely effective melodies. But even though she’s “more accessible” than ever, she still won’t be everyone’s cup of tea. Some songs, like “No Provenance” and “Autumn” have good lyrics are undoubtedly very pretty, but begin to meander and become slightly formless.
The discs are organized well. The flow and sequencing couldn’t be much better. There are a few moments where the whole thing starts to drag because of its duration, but the separation of discs helps with that. I find myself coming back to songs in complete disorder anyway, just picking at random which I want to hear. Or choosing just one disc to listen to. The entire thing concludes with “Does Not Suffice,” one of Newsom’s finest numbers. It’s a break up song about leaving the house you’ve lived in with your lover. She reprises, only faintly, the melody from “In California,” and reminds us how “easy [she] is not,” harking back to the opener. This indicated that maybe there’s more threads connecting these songs than is readily noticeable. The piano and harp couple together beautifully, with the bittersweet finality of “And everywhere I tried to love you / Is yours again and only yours.” Then it explodes into a propulsive match of pounded piano keys and thunderous drums, before dispersing to the closing static cloud.
Have One of Me is a long album. Yes. But it’s a beautiful one. A lot of people argue she shouldn’t have tried to do all of this at once. But I am glad she has. It’s split up into three albums, that work well alone, and even better together. I have been waiting for four years for new stuff, so I’m glad I have two hours of it. I’d rather have more than less. And when she is so able to do almost anything, why complain about the fact that she’s gladly exploiting it? It doesn’t make this album a mess at all. It makes it an exceptionally well-realized piece of art by one of the most talented musicians of the century.
