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And she and I would sleep on a boat
And swim in the sea without clothes
With rain falling fast on the sea
While she was swimming away, she'd be winking at me
Telling me it would all be okay
Out on the horizon and fading away
And I'd swim to the boat and I'd laugh
I gotta get me a Sylvia Plath
--Ryan Adams (“Sylvia Plath”)
TSE has been decidedly on a Ryan Adams kick over the last week and change (This was written a month ago. Whoops.). Therefore, I found it appropriate to frame this next new band, Widower, a folk band from Seattle, with a tip of the hat to poets. The great thing about this set of stanzas, to me, is that it’s not totally out of character for Adams’ writing, but it definitely forces some Plath celestial and Earthy imagery, giving it a Bell Jar scent, but doesn’t stray TOO FAR away from the songwriters wheelhouse. Much like what he did with Oasis’ “Wonderwall” philosophically. He made it his own, in a tributary sense, while creating something unique and unusual that could easily stand-alone.
The writing found on the Widower’s Fool Moon embraces this concept convincingly. There is a bit of songwriter introspective matter-of-fact searing the lyrics with a “this is real and off the cuff” sentiment, but mixing in some truly splendid alliteration, rhyming and flow—found mostly in renascence poetry. This brand of writing stuck out to me considerably, because, well, it’s exactly how I try to write. There were a number of moments when I would find myself aggravated that I didn’t write what I was reading/listening to. This happens all the time, but it doesn’t always feel organically like Spy vs. Spy or in this case Ryan C. Zerfas vs. Why isn’t this Ryan C. Zerfas!? That’s when the true frustration rolls itself out into admiration.
I’m typically a lyric after sonically driven mood music-goer, but in Widowers case, I think it’s proper to let the lyrics take the forefront and let the music come in and move your emotions around, much like a movie soundtrack. Most of the songs on Fool Moon have attention grabbing starting points, right away, granting immediate urgency, thusly, the heart grab hinges on the words themselves.
The opening cut, “Jumper Cables” might be the greatest poetic masterpiece of our time. It’s a song that makes me say, “awwww” and instantly want to text the lyrics to my current crush. This time around, I was able to stop myself, mostly because I’m trying to concentrate on this piece of writing…
“Sometimes your heart's as shaky as a shopping cart
it's seen it's share of parking lots, it's been around the block
you're in the market for a marksman cause cupid's missed too often
the concern it must be causin', all the fools you had to fuck
and you're wrestling reality, it's a ferris wheel of feelings
it's the wings under your shirt you weren't aware of
and I'll play the patient Plymouth rock
to your pilgrimage, a thickened plot
and I'll take it upon myself to pick the lock, love”
--“Jumper Cables”
SHOCK. AND. AWE. Is anyone else blown away by this? Are you seeing what I’m seeing here?
Sonically, this song reminds me of “Harry and Bess” by Ferraby Lionheart, only the lyrics grip me in the same way that song’s melody did. When I first heard “Jumper Cables,” I found it to be pleasing, but not striking. After going back and reading the lyrics, everything was viewed under new eyes. Suddenly the pianos seem prettier. The guitar gently wept. The poet needs a beer and I’ll be damned if anyone in this dive bar will beat me to it. The blues chops hit the heart, and the percussion became a rowdy swarm of bees. Yes, it could happen to you.
I think “ferris wheel of feelings” will now be in my everyday vernacular. In fact, my Twitter currently, has a cover image of the Wonder Wheel in Coney Island, for basically the same linear thinking, but I didn’t have the words until now. I also love the alliteration on the opening “shaky as a shopping cart” and later on “in the market for a marksman, because cupid’s missed too often.” Just brilliant. I have a lock to pick, and when I get done with this piece, I’m(ah) gonna grab my tools and break it open on all them fools.
The Ryan Adams moment on this album (there is probably one on every album I review, no reason to avoid it) is “Thoroughbred.” It opens lyrically, with that matter-of-fact shucks, I’m going to shoot this straight—warts, vulgarities and all, “She’s given me hell, so eloquently/she resembles the devil, god dammit, so delicately/but this mess was effortless, it’s second nature, I guess/a dresser drawer of regrets, and the rest is history.”
Damn.
There’s another quality line later on…
“oh how i long to be, sound asleep with you still next to me
you brilliantly breathe, your cherry-red cheeks and pillow marks
i was born, fragile and forlorn
i was tattered and torn, but that doesn't matter anymore”
Lyrically, it reminds me of “Wish You Were Here” with the sound of Cardinalogy, not a bad pedigree if you ask me.
I want to be a woman so a man can say this to me. Ok, that didn’t come out right, but seriously, how do you not melt when you read this? Hopeless romantics have a new lyrical standard, folks (though I am kind of using this chunk out of context). That third stanza is like a tight sleeping hug. Is there a better feeling? I like how the guitar and piano kind of trade the spotlight. The heavy guitar hand gives it this winding emotional grace and when the guitar quiets, the piano lends its own heavy hand, kind of like a camp “lean on me” game. Cross your arms and fall back into this song, it’ll be ok, I promise.
The depressing guitar of “Almost, Always, All Yours,” is reminiscent of Mark Kozelek in a punchier; it’s time to put this album to bed kind of way. The outro kicks in for the last minute or so of the song and just seems to gain volume like a set of late-night, out-of-place commercials. You go to turn the music down and realize it’s just a grand finale and you need to soak it all up. It’s not the guy in the question mark jacket showing you how to save your money, it’s Kevin Large & Co., trying to save your soul. It also, has a slight resemblance to The Wonder Years theme song. If there were a moment in all of music, to kind of sample something (I’m not saying they did), this would be the exact time and place. That mood grab is so clutch I can hardly stand it.
Fool Moon is an album (full of songs) precisely punctuated for a reason. I’m not sure I’ve seen an album with so many commas in the song titles, but when you read the lyrics, you realize you’re on a very specific, yet outwardly ostentatious journey of a piping hot wordsmith. Grow a beard like Walt Whitman shucking corn under a harvest moon. Cry in the rainy streets of New York like a depressed Ester Greenwood. Grab a beer at the Whitehorse Tavern with the ghosts of Bob Dylan and Jack Kerouac. Somewhere the soul of Edgar Allen Poe is fist pumping Bon Jovi’s “In and Out of Love” with reckless reverse-remembrance. It’s ok, friends.
For every little bit love, and love-lost, borrowed from our sorrowful soul, deemed to be missing forever, buried in a hole. Our good friends music and poetry steal the sun, spin the Earth, give you rebirth and regenerate it right back. So, go on ahead, sit on a boat and laugh, someday, there will be, another Sylvia Plath.
Fool Moon is available NOW! You'd be a fool not to get it, but I won't judge. It's your loss. Poetic bliss awaits and in a world where poetry is on Kindles, why not put some on your flippin' iPod, or whatever magical device that brings you your introspective music goodness.
Widower Facebook – Bandcamp
Hopeless romantism isn't dead. If there's anything more romantic than reading Ryan C. Zerfas' blog of cataclysmic drivel, he will buy you dinner. Just put your favorite line in the e-mail title. Also, follow him on Twitter. He's quite sick of having less than 100 followers.
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