Album: Her Majesty The Decemberists
Artist: The Decemberists
Born: Portland, Oregon
Released: September 2003
Genre: Indie Rock
Once home to Elliott Smith, Sleater-Kinney and The Decemberists, and today putting out records by Deerhoof and Marnie Stern, US indie label Kill Rock Stars has long been a hotbed of innovation. The Decemberists captured the small corner of the indie music market vacated by Neutral Milk Hotel, who disbanded at the end of the 90s. Many of this record's arrangements owe a lot to In The Aeroplane Over The Sea, and Colin Meloy's singing style is clearly indebted to Jeff Mangum's, but The Decemberists also have many unique characteristics, including their theatricality. Some may find this a little off-putting, but the quality of the songwriting and the imaginative reworking of folk traditions makes Her Majesty a worthy addition to this blog. Later albums by The Decemberists would become more progressive rock in style and epic in ambition, notably The Hazards Of Love, while 2011's The King Is Dead saw the band move away from reviving British electric folk into exploring American folk traditions, but it's the early records I enjoy most. Her Majesty has so many great songs, starting with Shanty For Arethusa, which recaptures life at sea and has a ramshackle, freewheeling feel and great lyrics ("The ghosts of sailors passed, their spectral bodies clinging to the shrouds"). The album isn't set in a fixed point in history, with The Soldiering Life depicting war in the trenches, with an oddly upbeat sound and lyrics that celebrate a feeling of camaraderie.
Some songs have a show tune flavour, like Billy Liar, but I prefer The Decemberists when they're less polished and rougher around the edges. Without doubt my favourite section of the album is the run of three songs -- Los Angleles, I'm Yours / The Gymnast, High Above The Ground / The Bachelor & The Bride -- on the record's first side. Los Angleles, I'm Yours references modern-day LA ("But, oh, the smell of burnt cocaine") with old-fashioned language ("Dalliant and dainty") that creates a unique sense of tension and drama. I really love The Gymnast, High Above The Ground for the way it tries to access the mindset of the performer, but it's a tough song to interpret; it sounds like it's written from the perspective of a young besotted lover, whose unrequited love has "been slipping away". The use of strings is really effective, especially in the emotional ending to the song. Bachelor & Bride is one of my favourite tracks on the record, again showing off Meloy's erudition (this time a reference to Marcel Duchamp) and full of rich, violent imagery ("There's a wrinkle in the water / where we laid our first daughter"). Other highlights are love song Red Right Ankle and I Was Meant For The Stage, the latter another 7-minute epic that involves Meloy imagining himself to be a thespian of great repute for the first half ("The heavens at my birth / intended me for stardom"), before the song descends into a cacophony of noise, either representing rapturous applause or audience boos. The Decemberists clearly aren't a populist band, but what I love about music is how it often finds refuge for oddballs and originals.
Once home to Elliott Smith, Sleater-Kinney and The Decemberists, and today putting out records by Deerhoof and Marnie Stern, US indie label Kill Rock Stars has long been a hotbed of innovation. The Decemberists captured the small corner of the indie music market vacated by Neutral Milk Hotel, who disbanded at the end of the 90s. Many of this record's arrangements owe a lot to In The Aeroplane Over The Sea, and Colin Meloy's singing style is clearly indebted to Jeff Mangum's, but The Decemberists also have many unique characteristics, including their theatricality. Some may find this a little off-putting, but the quality of the songwriting and the imaginative reworking of folk traditions makes Her Majesty a worthy addition to this blog. Later albums by The Decemberists would become more progressive rock in style and epic in ambition, notably The Hazards Of Love, while 2011's The King Is Dead saw the band move away from reviving British electric folk into exploring American folk traditions, but it's the early records I enjoy most. Her Majesty has so many great songs, starting with Shanty For Arethusa, which recaptures life at sea and has a ramshackle, freewheeling feel and great lyrics ("The ghosts of sailors passed, their spectral bodies clinging to the shrouds"). The album isn't set in a fixed point in history, with The Soldiering Life depicting war in the trenches, with an oddly upbeat sound and lyrics that celebrate a feeling of camaraderie.
Some songs have a show tune flavour, like Billy Liar, but I prefer The Decemberists when they're less polished and rougher around the edges. Without doubt my favourite section of the album is the run of three songs -- Los Angleles, I'm Yours / The Gymnast, High Above The Ground / The Bachelor & The Bride -- on the record's first side. Los Angleles, I'm Yours references modern-day LA ("But, oh, the smell of burnt cocaine") with old-fashioned language ("Dalliant and dainty") that creates a unique sense of tension and drama. I really love The Gymnast, High Above The Ground for the way it tries to access the mindset of the performer, but it's a tough song to interpret; it sounds like it's written from the perspective of a young besotted lover, whose unrequited love has "been slipping away". The use of strings is really effective, especially in the emotional ending to the song. Bachelor & Bride is one of my favourite tracks on the record, again showing off Meloy's erudition (this time a reference to Marcel Duchamp) and full of rich, violent imagery ("There's a wrinkle in the water / where we laid our first daughter"). Other highlights are love song Red Right Ankle and I Was Meant For The Stage, the latter another 7-minute epic that involves Meloy imagining himself to be a thespian of great repute for the first half ("The heavens at my birth / intended me for stardom"), before the song descends into a cacophony of noise, either representing rapturous applause or audience boos. The Decemberists clearly aren't a populist band, but what I love about music is how it often finds refuge for oddballs and originals.
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