FEATURE:
Vinyl Corner
Joanna Newsom – Ys
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I have been covering, over the past few weeks, some of…
the albums that I feel have defined the 2010s. As we are now in the 2020s, I am looking further afield and to those albums that warrant some serious investigation on the vinyl format. Today, I am looking at Joanna Newsom’s second studio album, Ys, released in 2006. Produced by Newsom and Van Dyke Parks, it is a sumptuous and stunning effort. Newsom is not one to travel the straight and obvious; her work is more experimental and challenging. As such, there are five songs on Ys that range in length from seven to seventeen minutes. Not that Ys is a concept album as such, yet the songs do address the people who have been important to her the year prior to recording. Life in Newsom’s life prior to the album coming together was pretty tough. She has lost a close friend, was ill herself and went through a hard break-up. There is a lot to recommend and love about Ys, but I especially adore the musicianship throughout. With bass guitar from Lee Sklar and electric guitar by Grant Geissman, one can discover an incredible blend of musicians throughout – also in the mix is Matt Cartsonis who played mandolin and banjo. I would suggest one gets a copy of Ys on vinyl because, like so many great albums, it is not as common on that format as you’d hope. I might write a feature on this: how there are so many wonderful albums out there one cannot purchase on vinyl. Regardless, one can get Ys on vinyl and it is definitely worth the money.
Joanna Newsom is one of those artists who have been on a golden run. Ys’s follow-up, Have One on Me, was released in 2010 and gained big reviews; so too did 2015’s Divers. In fact, that album scored her biggest reviews to date. As Newsom releases, roughly, an album every five years, I do wonder whether this year will be the one she brings us her fifth studio album. Whereas 2004’s The Milk-Eyed Mender was more conventional in terms of the number of songs and the length of each, Ys – released only two years after her debut – takes five tracks and builds these incredible stories. Based on personal events, the songs on Ys are very personal and important, but one does not have to know the circumstances to appreciate the incredible musicianship, production and Newsom’s stunning voice. Some were unsure of Newsom’s unique voice on her debut and, like all originals, people soon got on board. Ys finds Newsom with a more nuanced and extraordinary instrument at her disposal. The long and challenging songs could, on paper, be viewed as hard to understand or self-indulgent but, as many reviewers pointed out, every string and moment has its place. I want to bring in a couple of reviews that outline what an impressive and staggering album Ys is. Here is AllMusic’s take:
“Along with the beautifully filigreed arrangements and melodies, which mingle strings, jew's-harps, and spaghetti Western horns with Appalachian, Celtic, and even Asian influences, the album shows Newsom's development as a singer. She has more nuance and control, particularly over the keening edge of her voice, which is recorded so clearly that when it cracks, it tears the air like a tangible exclamation point.
Ys' daring, plentiful wordplay makes it even more of a rarity: an extremely musically accomplished album with lyrics to match. On "Only Skin" alone, Newsom goes from rhyming "fishin' poles" with "swimmin' holes" to "heartbroken, inchoate." These songs are so full of words and plot twists that sometimes it feels more like you're reading them instead of listening to them, and indeed, actually reading the lyrics in the book-like liner notes reveals that Ys has a library's worth of children's stories, myths, romances, and of course, fairy tales woven into its words. As the album unfolds, it seems like Newsom can't get more ambitious (and more importantly, pull it off), but with each song, she does. Two of the best moments: the darkly whimsical fable "Monkey & Bear," a forest romp that boasts some of the album's best storytelling and some of Parks' liveliest arrangements, and "Sawdust & Diamonds," which is surreally sensual and coltish, with surprisingly direct lyrics: "From the top of the flight/Of the wide, white stairs/For the rest of my life/Do you wait for me there?" Ys isn't exactly a reinvention of Newsom's music, but it's so impressive that it's like a reintroduction to what makes her talent so special. Its breathtaking scope makes it a sometimes bewildering embarrassment of riches, or as one of "The Monkey and the Bear"'s lyrics puts it, "a table ceaselessly being set." Yes, Ys is a demanding listen, but it's also a rewarding and inspiring one. Letting it unfold and absorbing more each time you hear it is a delight”.
There were some mixed reviews but I feel, in those cases, the reviewers did not give the album time or were prepared to immersive themselves fully. For those who want to discover a record that envelops you and is so different to anything out there, I would point you in the direction of Ys. Ys is not available on Spotify – nor is most of her work – but you can access it on TIDAL if you would rather stream the album. This is what The Guardian had to say when they reviewed Ys:
“The lyrics are fantastic. You hesitate to compare Newsom to the Fall, partly because she sounds nothing like them and partly because Mark E Smith might get wind that you have equated his band with a singing Californian harpist with plaits and a medieval bent and jump on the first train from Salford with the intention of belting you one. But what Newsom does share with the Fall's dissipated leader is a rare ability to craft lyrics so mysterious and allusive that to all intents and purposes they make no sense, but which still manage to draw you in and hold you with the richness of their language. Doing this is a tall order, particularly when an album features the sheer volume of words that Ys does. There are moments when Newsom stumbles into the grim territory where prog rockers once set up camp: her love of "thee" and "fain" can seem a bit affected.
More often, her obvious love of words just carries the listener helplessly along. It's hard to work out what the 16-minute Only Skin is on about, but that doesn't stop you being beguiled by the way she turns a description of a river into something infinitely more lubricious, going from nature trail to knickers off in a matter of seconds: "I watched how the water was kneading so neatly, gone treacly, nearly slowed to a stop; frenzied coiling flush along the muscles beneath," she sings. "Press on me, we are restless things." Nor does it stop the song's denouement, which for some reason concerns a bird flying into a window, from being inexplicably moving.
Ys is full of moments like that: magical for reasons you can't quite put your finger on. Within minutes of it starting, you're struck by the rare sensation that you've entering uncharted, original territory. A hard sell, perhaps, but it could be the best musical investment you make all year.
It is a new decade, and I wonder if Joanna Newsom is working on new material. Whilst she is gigging at the moment, Newsom is an artist that does not have a Twitter or Instagram, so you never really know what is brewing. I guess we will find out in time whether new songs are a possibility. It is exciting to speculate but, until then, get Ys and discover this great artist. Once you have listened to Ys, have a listen to Joanna Newsom’s other albums as they are all different and full of gems. When it comes to musical richness, a beguiling voice and songs that hit the heart, I think Joanna Newsom is someone…
