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The book itself is a thing of great beauty, as you would expect from someone with the immaculate credentials that Kristin has, first with Throwing Muses (some great unusual artwork sleeves, special packaging for the albums University and Red), and latterly with her solo career, culminating (so far) with this minor masterpiece of, well, art. That is what this is: art. On opening you will find the following: a song title page, with a quote underlining it; the facing page has an alluring, oblique essay about the song, how it came to live and breath and finally laid on the album. Turn over for the lyrics, and on its facing page, an image of a flower that blossoms out towards those lyrics, that also appears to be having its secret revealed (as if for the first time) by the photographer, Lisa Fletcher. And the music? Well, how can I put into words that are derogatory, nasty, negative, spiteful, or even malicious? I cannot. It is as stunning and as dazzling as the book itself. Rather appropriately, the album has songs that serve as bookends. First, “Mississippi Kite”, which I believe is as good as anything I have heard from her since the Throwing Muses era. It is a colossal guitar and vocal rock track if ever there was one in Kristin’s canon, and only the second time she has opened a solo album with a total wig-out piece of music - this is even more intensely rock ‘n roll than “In Shock”, which opens the Learn To Sing Like A Star album, as if its pants are on fire, a real firefight of a song. “Mississippi Kite” eclipses it, searing everything in its path; it is a true scorched earth policy of a song. Closer “Rubidoux” has a repetitive, insistent guitar refrain that quietly lays down a spooky rhythm, with a slight ‘sunburst of sound’ guitar interval, whilst the voice draws every intonation from each key word as she applies her husky drawl with all its subtle force. “Rubidoux” is a gentle, but potent, climax to this absolutely magnificent musical set. In between are eight tracks that twist and turn, flow and flame, and, of course, rock and roll. The writing is as intense as ever, those oblique words coming at you from an angle hard to pinpoint. The melodies are more potent, more direct; the instrumentation is more driven, has more purpose; each song has more clarity, without losing that intensity of thought and effort so characteristic of Kristin’s work. Her strength to ‘endure’ the experience of completing her work is undiminished, has not been lost. Kristin is a survivor, besides everything else, and this is a survivor’s masterwork. A 40 minute conversation with Kristin (give or take 2 minutes and 23 seconds) The first thing Kristin told me was that she was delighted to be back in the UK. It is a lot cooler apparently (she just missed our English heatwave summer), and the main reason for enjoying herself here is the treatment she gets from her fans, who turn out in a friendly throng every time that she appears over here. Of course, I told her, it is two-way process. We get to see a great show every time, no matter what. This being such an ambitious project to embark on, it was interesting to find out why, where and how the concept began. She gave credit to her husband, Billy O’Connell, who helped with the initial idea, and provided great support from start to finish. Kristin cited the devaluing of music as a key factor, which in turn devalues the performer too. They decided to disassociate the project from CD and vinyl early on, and with the aid of Cash Music (cashmusic.org), the organization she helped start with Billy, Donita Sparks (L7) and Robert Fagan (to help musicians make their own music), she has spent two years bringing this to fruition, without any record company people hassling her to get the product, and get it their way. She also told me it was the first time she had closed the studio door on completion of an album, and actually smiled. (What does that tell you?). Kristin has always had a deep affinity to her songs, and with this project she took it a step further, being able to devote herself to the songs, to give to them what they wanted, not what she thought they wanted. Lisa Fletcher came in for a lot of praise. With her photographs so prominent in the book it was essential that she was able to capture the right mood with her images. She has done exactly that, which was probably a given, as they have a very close friendship (Kristin calls her a sister, her four children call her aunty), and she has toured with Fifty Foot Wave in the past as their photographer. She was a wise choice indeed. Her photos are astonishing in their beauty. Somewhere along the way they were able to get Harper Collins/The Friday Project on board, who specialise in sourcing the brightest talent from the web and developing it into great books (the Friday Project is the only publishing company to do this). Kristin has been bowled over by how wonderful they have proven to be, and that they take chances, risks even, when other publishers will not. To have them on board was a blessing. Finally, I asked her if my thinking that the songs and the essays here came from a deep, personal well of thoughts and words was a correct assumption. She immediately agreed, replying with the fact that there should be no bottom when searching for your own truth, you just keep reaching down and try to find it. She referred to ‘manifested heaven’ when seeking this truth, a truth beyond what you might consider truth to be. It gave me something to think about, and I found that re-reading the essays has it’s own value now. “I am more scientist than entertainer” she mused, “I try to find the truth, not unlike what scientists try to do in the laboratory”. We both considered this for a moment before Kristin rejoined with “Why do we keep standing up to the tidal wave, when just looking at a sad puddle is a huge challenge sometimes?” I didn’t have an answer to that question then, but I think I do now. If you are as spiritual as she is, as deeply human, as caring, as considerate, as constant, then you can do it. You just face life and do what you have to do – for yourself, your loved ones, and your tribe, your own strange angels. Being Kristin Hersh no doubt helps. Footnote: The book is dedicated to Vic Chesnutt (who died on Christmas Day 2009), one of her long-time best friends, and Finlay Freeman, a little boy belonging to a pair of Strange Angels who has nearly died a number of times through illness, but who is just an amazing (and small) human being, according to Kristin. KRISTIN HERSH – MISSISSIPPI KITE (UGO Raw Exclusive) |
