Ok, first off, sorry for abandoning this blog for so long, apart from this week being early shift-week (meaning that I get up early and get home – weirdly enough – late), I am in a flux right now, there are things changing and my mind was and probably will be (for a few weeks) a little less focused on music.
I try to make up for it, though, I did a few really cool interviews that I need to transcribe and I am actually listening to new music and I plan a themed week for April, so it will be hopefully all exciting.
Man, do you know how many blogs I know that had entries like this which essentially were the last entries on that blog ever?
It’s always the “Sorry, I haven’t posted so much, was totes busy but I will try to write more frequently” and then you look at the date and realize it’s the 12th November 1968 and then you realize you’re not even looking at your computer screen anymore but at a diary entry of a stranger you found in an empty house…
Ok, Sarah Jarosz was recommended by a colleague who I only know via chat because his office is located in London which is supercool and superweird at once. But he gives great tips on music and has yet another different taste in genres and artists than my other music-friends which is great and helps my plan to become the all-knowing trash-heap of music-recommendations (I am already pretty good at that).
I basically liked everything I heard from Sarah so far but I keep getting back to this song because it has a natural melancholy, something that immediately reaches a little deeper and plays harp with your heartstrings.
“The moon’s a fingernail, Scratching on the back of the night in which we lay beside” is also one of the finest lyrics I noticed in a while. I am usually not really concentrating on lyrics very much (unless I listen to bands who are known for otherworldly poetry like Elbow) but this just sprung out to me because – at least for me – it’s a very unique, very beautiful image. It reminds me of Wye Oak’s line from one of my all-time-favourite songs “Civilian”: I still keep my baby teeth in the bedside table with my jewelry” – it’s this seemingly random observance that becomes very meaningful in the context of the song (which I guess is one definition of poetry, so way to state the obvious, Juliane).