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Joanna Newsom, "Ys"
Joanna Newsom has abandoned the constraints of pop framework and has created a masterpiece for voice, harp, and orchestra. Ys consists of only five songs yet they stretch between seven and 17 minutes, all of which are extensive fairytales without choruses, refrains, and rarely a repeating motive.
Everything on Ys is over-the-top, from Newsom's storytelling and flawless playing to the lush orchestral arrangement by Van Dyke Parks to the immense packaging. Downloaders are seriously missing out on the joy of unwrapping the colorful, stunning embossed outer sleeve to reveal the 32-page booklet with gold leaf on the edges. I couldn't get over how arresting this was the first time I opened it. It demanded my attention and the music has lived up to the expectations set by the casing.
Sharing the name with a mythical sunken French city, the lyrics to the songs on Ys are presented like chapters of a story, however it's either like an Exquisite Corpse of sorts, shifting as the music does from various tempos and melodies, or it's all connected in some way that my mind can't quite wrap itself around. In the 12-minute opener "Emily," Joanna calls out to a friend who is gone. In a dream, she promises that she will commit all the stars that Emily has taught her to verse, where later on she longs for her to come home. "Monkey & Bear" is completely unrelated as far as I can tell: a tale of two escaped circus animals who don't know how to survive in the wild but have developed an unnatural love for each other. "Sawdust & Diamonds" is a longform poem, far more abstract than anything else on the album, and perhaps the prettiest piece, stripped down to only Newsom's vocals and harp. "Only Skin," on the other hand, comes within inches of being 17 minutes, and is easily the most deluxe song on the album, with numerous changes throughout the song, wind instruments, banjo, multitracked vocals, percussion, even and Bill Callahan of Smog (but only in really small doses). On the final song, "Cosmia," Joanna has come full circle, calling out to another friend who has gone.
Singer-songwriters with folk tendencies have told stories before, pop musicians have included 16+ minute songs on their albums before (usually nestled in between the rest of the easily digestable singalongs), but there's a remarkable originality on Ys that makes it difficult to find any reference point. Newsom has also done something that her male counterparts usually fail at when tackling a concept this rich with remotely nerdy technique and classical lore, and that's making it enjoyable. Not only is this one of the most technically rich releases this year it is also by far one of the most entertaining.
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