Music Writing by Carson Arnold
Music Writing by Carson Arnold
3 WOMEN WITH A HEART OF GOLD
Mary McCaslin, Way Out West- Steal my shadow and tie me to the setting sun. Mary McCaslin's voice is like heaven. Angelic and soft. The wings of the heart. An angel of the western wind. Her songs capture the essence of folk music in its richest and most delicate tones of inner beauty, weaving the dreams of a young woman inspired by her love to the Western prairie and the ballads of the outlaw sand. 1973 was the only year Way Out West could have possibly worked for people. The glimmering spirit of the sixties still bloomed with the innocence of the morning twilight, but the days ended under the precursor of an uncertain change of events that were to be the rising waves that rode us through the closing of our last century and into the violent seas of an untouchable tide. The chordal sensations of the sparrow, earlier sung by the likes of Baez, Henske, or Mimi Farina, were now somewhat hibernated, departed, its call a distinct genre, soon to be extinct. The next decades were either avenged into by Patti Smith, or released into by the warm liberation of women like McCaslin (or even the petals of Melanie at that). And her album, Way Out West, no doubt, is a gold landmark to this extraordinary space of ages. The rooster crows a lullaby. The dove sings at dusk. The coyote howls to the wolf. Somewhere everywhere. She and Townes Van Zandt are the dusty troubadours of these deserted, lovely feelings of wonder.Way Out West is the last encore to the "free song", the free-world, feminine and eternal, a roaming solitude that can be one of the many circle of friends for each of us to grow old with. A truly beautiful presence. A butterfly of Woody Guthrie's spirit.
Essra Mohawk, Primordial Lovers- If Laura Nyro tripped on some acid you'd find Essra Mohawk swaying somewhere in the fresco. Exotic psychedelia at its sexiest jingo, Essra's wavering voice is a fresh eclipse of oceanic stimulation. Though a raving favorite among critics at the time, and a cult-hero among vinyl junkies now, her 1970 release Primordial Lovers bit the mouth of misery in attracting any large sales with the public. Then again, you gotta' admit, who the hell needed people like Essra if you had Led Zeppelin or Neil Young? Nevertheless, there is a fetal sense of sweet installation in her, a vertigo to the outer-world, that makes Primordial Lovers a classic for the people of isolated bliss.
Nico, Desertshore- For a gloomy heroin addict she sure had a voice. Desertshore is the ruby of desire. Nico's most barren approach to the inside's of the lost, betrayed, and gorgeous soul. Tales of sight and vision of no touch, clearly inspired by her frequent trips at the time with Shaman-warrior, Jim Morrison. And with John Cale at his ripest talent, composing basically, whatever the hell he wants, Desertshore pours through you like the mist of eight raining harps falling from the sky. However, only Nico -the Billy Holiday of her genre- could sing with the most intense tenor of emotion, soothing us softly, hushing: "you are beautiful, and you are alone". That right there, friends, that terrific line of triumph, is not only the magic and mystery of Nico that has been long since dramatized (people use to be disappointed after visiting her, as if she didn't compete with the myth she'd been adulterated by), but it also opens the isolated belief of our own vanity that is constantly doubted with every new day. A line like this is rare. Possibly ancient in music. It carries a certain promise that could potentially change many lives. A cry from the dark out of Nico, and a release from the sorrowful tear she was being culted and pitied as. And who heard her? Who indeed heard the voice of beauty and enchantment beneath the foul belongings of the world's flaming ego? I've never thought of Nico of being anything more other than love. She sings for a Utopian world, not a wonderland, but a place where, as she would say, we'd "cease to be, to tell, and to see". Where a smile, a hug, or even a farewell kiss, would ultimately mean something in The End.
- Carson Arnold March 16, 2003
copyright 2003 Carson Arnold
H(ear) is an online music column consisting of interviews, articles, and investigations written by Carson Arnold. As a freelance writer for various magazines and liner notes, living in the woods of Vermont with his family, Carson widely encourages one to submit their art, writing or any interesting piece of material that you would like to share. H(ear) is accepting both promos and demos for review or any other valuable music-related subjects. If you wish to make a comment or would like to receive H(ear) weekly by email please contact Carson at [email protected]
Thanks and enjoy!
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