Number 2 of 2006 — Joanna Newsom: Ys

Joanna Newsom’s first album The Milk-Eyed Mender was my startling introduction to her voice, her harp playing and her unique songs – mere snippets of ideas and thoughts turned into pop-oriented nursery rhymes. Ys demonstrates a confident extension of those skills, turning in just five pieces of music that merge the two worlds of song and storytelling, so much that it’s difficult to tell which gets the upper hand. Listeners may find some connection between this album and Kristin Hersh’s set of Appalachian folk-songs Murder, Misery and Then Goodnight.

One-time Beach Boy collaborator and musical polymath (if that’s not an oxymoron) Van Dyke Parks helped to provide decorative orchestral arrangements for the songs, their presence being the most striking difference from Joanna’s first album. When one thinks orchestration in a popular music context, it usually means adding strings. Here, however, we have woodwind, brass and sundry other instruments, but they never overwhelm the songs. Instead, they add rhythmic and tonal colours, stretching and supporting the songs. At times they appear almost foreign, as if their creators heard a completely different set of songs. But as you become familiar with each piece of music, the sometimes quirky arrangements eventually interlock and bind with the songs. This leads to an aching emptiness within the album’s focus (and only solo track) Sawdust and Diamonds, for which Joanna never found an agreeable accompaniment.

Four of the songs are autobiographical allegories, with the fifth, Only Skin, providing reflection on the others. These often lengthy songs require concentration on every nuance of content and delivery. Failure to do so can paint the entire album as a exercise in rambling prog-folk. Opening track Emily hinges around a refrain which describes Joanna’s sister’s attempt to teach her various definitions related to meteors. The time between its two appearances is vast and whilst it’s wordy and cute at first, it turns into a towering display of love and friendship between two sisters when it finally recurs at the close of the song. Appropriately, Emily Newsom provided vocal harmonies to this track.

The lack of obvious choruses helps the album’s narrative, preferring instead to use repeating musical themes on which to hang the lyrics. Joanna’s delivery of these lyrics is less gawky than before, but still unique and enchanting. Indeed, her vocal style suits her music and particularly its rhythms perfectly. This allows the vocals and accompaniments to glide across each other gracefully without unnecessary interference or overwrought dominance, thus helping the listening and understanding each of her elaborate tales, particularly on Monkey and Bear. Once you’re locked into listening to this album it is impossible to break away from because its stories are magical and packed with emotions. Not much more can be written – it’s simply an outstanding album.

I wasn’t born of a whistle, or milked from a thistle at twilight.
No; I was all horns and thorns, sprung out fully formed, knock-kneed and upright.
Sawdust and Diamonds