Joanna Newsom: Ys

Okay, let me put it simply: buy this album, because it is, perhaps, the one album you need to buy this year. I know, I know… I know what some of you are thinking, and I understand. Her previous album, The Milk-Eyed Mender, though often glowingly reviewed, was made for eclectic tastes; pop accessibility was not its selling point, its genuinely quirky and innocent beauty was. Joanna Newsom is, after all, a beautifully eccentric denizen of Faerie, and her brand of folk music is never less than enchanting. When Kisha and I saw her at the Troubadour as an opening act — we went to see her and not the headliner — we were blown away by her sheer talent, but we both understood that many people would not be able to get past her singing style no matter how much they appreciated her words and harp. A shame, that last bit.

But the songs on Ys are not only more accessible. Joanna Newsom has expanded her vocal range and her music exponentially, managing to create on this new work a level of intimacy epic in its range. She has added strings, horns, backing vocals, and other instrumentation, using them judiciously and precisely, in much the same way as Fiona Apple did on the pre-release version of Extraordinary Machine. Vocally, there are complimentary comparisons to Björk’s voice on Vespertine, though they are positively distinct. Lyrically, her poetry has matured and developed in step with her voice’s ability to express it. Her themes are magically intricate tapestries, filled with heady and fresh breezes, touching realms enigmatic and crystal clear by turns, sweet and poignant, filled with sad systole and joyful diastole in the tradition of high literature. She manages to make you feel as if you are sharing in a secret moment, but that moment is the world itself.

Named after the mythical city built by a king for his daughter and drowned beneath the sea, Ys comprises five long tracks — four of which are over 9 minutes long (the fifth track is over 7 minutes) — that pass, alas, too quickly. They are each epic in scope, yet they seem to fly by as quickly as a joyful, meaningful holiday filled with merry meetings, a long dinner with wine and dessert, and great conversations that slowly fade as such conversations do. In other words, at just over fifty-five minutes long, Ys is a treasure for the heart.

With arrangements by Van Dyke Parks, engineering by Steve Albini, and production by Jim O’Rourke, you might think that the album would be more a product of their concerted efforts than her’s. But a first listen will dispell that idea. Their talents have served rather than subsumed Joanna’s work, allowing Ys to remain wholly her own. Which leads to this bold statement: Joanna Newsom’s Ys is worthy of more than a Grammy; it is worthy of becoming one of those works that remains on “Top” lists for decades to come, worthy of being referenced as a watershed moment in music history, worthy of taking its place among the stars whose work has periodically redefined for the better the artistic heights music might attain to.

Buy Joanna Newsom’s Ys and cherish it forever.