ghost of corporate present

Because most of my day is spent scrolling through my ipod for retail suitable selections, I thought I might include a brief discussion of the literary merit of a few of my favorite family-appropriate singer/songwriters. Since my boss simply starts his windows media player loop of 60's hippy classics, like Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson, Joan Baez, et. al, I tend to break sharply from that sort of retail friendly to my very own modern type. First, I often rely on the silly, yet gorgeous styling of Regina Spektor (I am only starting with her because her warm voice is currently the one steaming up the store). The lyrics of her songs are delivered with an urgency that suggests autobiography, but her songs are most often vignettes of other people's lives, rather than personal tragedies. Immediately silly-sounding, her songs run the risk of being discredited as affected and artificial, however, her lyrics paint vivid pictures of plot-less plots and are quite smart and humorous given their vagueness. My favorite song of hers is "Ghost of Corporate Future," which describes a bleak future for those of us doomed to soulless occupations (oddly fitting given my current location). Instead of relying on trite images of businessmen at their mid-life crises, she invokes unexpected situations in which a man might come to find he's "never made [his] wife moan." She suggests breaking from the norm to "cut your own hair, cause that can be so funny...it always grows back. Hair grows even after you're dead." Regina recognizes the importance of being silly and reminds us of the gravity of taking anything, like hair, for instance, too seriously. When you die, you can't spend $150 on a designer haircut! She avoids self-importance, which enhances her stylistic delivery and believability as an artist, nothing more. I also believe she is the most stunningly and classically beautiful living woman, but how does one not fall in love with a girl playing a chair as an instrument?




Next on the list is Joanna Newsom. While I found her first album incredibly irritating and childish, her second album, Ys, has turned my feelings completely around. Her voice sounds much more mature, and while the lyrics are still infused with the same simple beauty and literal brilliance as those of her first album, the song type (elaborate 10-15 minute allegorical stories) works much better with this style. She does things with words that only seasoned and gifted poets can do. Take, for example, the different uses of "bear" and "bare" in the fairy tale-ish "Monkey and Bear"; she uses these words just often enough to maintain quiet wordplay and in ways that are effective and beautiful sounding. The beauty of her lyrics, of course, is the most overwhelming aspect of any listen to Ys. She is certainly an "acquired taste," as my boss commented after I had her harping in the background at work one day, but one worth acquiring. Plus, she loves alliteration just as much as I do: "well, what is this scrap of sassafras, eh Sisyphus?"



Lastly, of this particular retail environment genre, the artist who has been with me the longest is Nick Drake. Leaving the world with only three full-length albums before his tragic suicide at the age of 26, I often worried that I might tire of the same songs without the possibility of anything but rarely satisfying posthumous releases. The three albums, however, have proved themselves fresh upon each listen, with Blakean lyrics and subtle, yet intricate classical melodies. His soft voice is the only that might evoke such peculiar feelings of simultaneous melancholia and love. Although a friend of mine once commented that "no matter how loud you play Nick Drake, he is still whispering," I find his voice quite fitting and expressive. "At the Chime of a City Clock" is my favorite song of his, and perhaps it is just for the beauty of the title itself. The line, "For a stone in a tin can is wealth to a city man who leaves his armour down" exemplifies his masterful use of very simple images to create a series of epigrams in each brilliantly composed song. Music rarely moves me in the way his does, and now that I am halfway through his biography, I find myself even closer to the lyrics and sounds, thus running the risk of crying on customers.