I admit it. I’m a definite fangirl where Josh Ritter is concerned. I can thank Adam for turning me on to his music. There’s something in his manner of storytelling – literate, thoughtful, playful, emotional – that delights me every time a new album comes out.
His songs aren’t immediate, ferocious loves. They’re albums you play several times as you absorb the melody, waiting for the full import to sink in, and then eventually there’s a moment when the sense of what I’m hearing seeps in, and I hit ‘repeat.’ A few months later I realize the songs have slowly, gradually, seeped into the soundtrack of my life.
Where the thistles eat the thorns, and the roses have no chance,
and it ain’t no wonder that the babies come out crying in advance
and the children look for shelter in the hollow of some lonesome cheek
And the sky’s so cold and clear the stars might stick you where you stand
and you’re only glad it’s dark cause you might see the Master’s hand
you might cast around forever and never find the peace you seek.
For every cry in the night, somebody says have faith,
be content inside your questions – minotaurs inside a maze.
Tell me what’s the point of light that you have to strike a match to find?
So throw away those lamentations – we both know them all too well;
if there’s a book of jubilations, we’ll have to write it for ourselves,
so come and lie beside me, darling, and let’s write it while we’ve still got time
(from ‘Lantern,’ off of So Runs The World Away)
Now I know why Ritter titled his blog Book of Jubilations.
I’m starting the same slow absorption process with the National’s High Violet, as well. It’s a good week for music.
If anyone wants to watch me be a squeaky fangirl, Ritter’s got a show at Workplay coming up soon. Of course I’m going. Did you doubt? Really?