I was once told that a good way to test a song, or even just use a song and set yourself to a particular pattern mentally, is to set it to repeat and let it wash right over you and your aural tastes. Whitewashing with the noise, and setting a heartbeat to the strum of percussion or bass or whatever, and then afterwards, only afterwards, letting yourself start the slow process of articulating thoughts on the subject.
Although I used to hate a room-mate-next-door for doing just that with Vampire Weekend. I never claimed it was a social habit.
So anyway. I’m what, 15 listens in to Brooke Fraser’s Something In The Water, and it’s definitely the song that makes me happy right now, so into this increasingly protracted project it goes.
Her name is Brooke Fraser. She is from New Zealand, which is good for her. She’s also quite tall. If you take the word of the few notes creeping up from the free-music-press, then this is pretty much all that will differentiate her from Feist to you. And they’re not wrong.
Simplistic, with drums and whistling and doo-doo-doo’s and handclaps liberally sprinkled throughout. If I were so inclined and wanted to go all musically-literate, I’d grab a female singer from my Folk(tronica) compilation disc, and draw comparisons.
(Take a break from writing to look for images to embed later. God damn, she’s attractive too. Attractive, folk artist, earthy looks, tall, from New Zealand – and pretty! She’s totally perfect. I’m in love.)
I probably like this a little too much. My tastes drag me too much towards indie teenagers with tight cloths singing and sighing about why no one understands them, and how much everyone is missing out on, even if frequently that seems to amount to just the simple pleasures of sitting in a kebab shop around central London at 2 in the morning, wearing cardigans and making ennui-laden confessions of, not love, but maybe a vague affection for a girl who cares just a little for the external world as you do… Well, you get the idea. And a pretty girl singing and clapping about the occasional glass of red wine (just a glass or two), and simple teenage infatuation and getting a little crazy in the head over a special someone – it’s different, and it’s at the heart of the songs that make me smile, through their simple and appreciated, though so infrequent, denial that the world is a place built for the narcissistic, bored, and narcotically motivated.
I mean just look at those eyes?
