Got 19 Minutes? The Decemberists' "Joan In The Garden"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6nhLuHWcTdo

This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

The Decemberists’ new album is not due until summer, but based on the two singles they have already released, last month’s Burial Ground, and this new, showcased gem, Joan in the Garden, this forever fanatic is fucking floored.

First, Burial Ground almost sounds like a Byrds tune with its driving, jangly, open guitar chords, but, no, Red Herring. Lest you think The Decemberists have become a pop band, you need to listen, as Colin repeatedly advises us, closely, to the subject of this article: Joan in the Garden, a 19-minute EPIC, inspired by death of Joan Of Arc.

If You Got ‘Em, Smoke ‘Em

Pun intended.

First, the lyrics:

In a book I found
Joan in the garden
I will write this down
I will lay her heart in mine
For a time
Write a line
Erase a line

In the dawning light
As she left her body
Gifted second sight
Did she lay her dowry by
Lay it by
Write a line
Erase a line

And if you listen closely
You can hear them singing ho, oh, oh, oh
And if you listen closely
You can hear them singing ho, oh, oh, oh
Hosanna

Make her ten miles tall
Make her arms cleave mountains
Let her temptors fall
Make her tears weep fountains by
Now to try:
Write a line
Erase a line

Just another tinsel ornament
Another troubled sky
We are folded in the firmament
Catch us as we fly

I don’t remember what I ought to be
I only know what’s right
I’m suspended from the orrery
Bursting into light

And If you listen closely
You can hear them singing:
Hosanna, hosanna

And if you listen closely
You can hear them singing:
Hosanna, hosanna yeah!

Over stone and grapevine
Over the souls on the breadline
There’s a reckoning at hand
Our hand

See them flayed at the flagpole
Catch it all on your console
We have come at your command
We stand
We stand

Blessed babe on display
Break her skull on the parquet
Wayward mariner awake!
We pray

She is daughter and son
The imperium undone
All the autocrats are laid
To waste
To waste

Oh holy whore androgyne
Come and sunder the stop signs
Break it all so we can build again

Bring on duke or dauphin
Blood will flow like a fountain
As it ever was so it will be again
As it ever was so it will be again
Hosanna, hosanna, hosanna yeah!

– Colin Meloy

I find it impossible not to drone on here about the actual fate of Joan Of Arc, but if you need a recap, here you go. True to form, The Decemberists pen an historical rendering of another story, a myth, a truth, a dreamlike image of an event so pivotal, so massive to our narrative arc, that it can only be conveyed via another monstrosity. In this case, it is a quasi-prog-rock “piece” that for the first time, the band did not dissect into pieces for the listener’s digestion. We are fed it whole, just as the unimaginable tragedy must have been experienced by those who witnessed it.

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Impossible to swallow. Impossible to behold. Impossible to fathom.

Morrissey wrote, in the lyrics to The Smiths’ Bigmouth Strikes Again:

And now I know how Joan of Arc felt
Now I know how Joan of Arc felt
As the flames rose to her Roman nose

Colin Meloy and crew take us there, completely, to that moment that lasts and echoes to this day, and as her dying prayers and anguished cries rose above, they were heard on high. No, I won’t babble on more about the lyrics, as tempted as I am, but you get the gist.

The Music

What begins as the event did, a choir of angels watching, singing sweetly to comfort her, as the crowd surely did, a spark ignites. It ascends slowly, consumes, and each second elapses and is reported, documented, to be forever eternalized. The guitar creeps in as the flames creep up, as does Colin’s voice, amidst the increasingly insane din of the spectacle, and eventually horrifies all as the pyre overtakes her. The song transforms from an ominous and jet black goth dirge into a manic, bloody, horrid Francium fete fit for only the darkest of all angels. As her soul is torn from her body, and she lapses, confused, bewildered, hallucinating, above, we too are dragged, ripped, confused and bewildered, into another world, far beyond this one.

But I Digress

In Creative Writing, we were first instructed to, “Show, don’t tell.” In other words, don’t simply write, “It was tragic to witness,” but put the reader there, physically, using as many senses as possible, to SHOW them instead.

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Indulge Me

Au cœur de Rouen, sur la place pavée, une jeune femme se tenait attachée au bûcher, les flammes lui léchaient les pieds. Les murmures de la foule se sont transformés en un silence assourdissant alors que le feu crépitait, peignant l’air d’une odeur de bois brûlé et de chair humaine. Le ciel s’assombrit, comme s’il pleurait l’injustice qui se déroulait devant lui. Les yeux de la jeune femme brillaient de peur, mais sa détermination brillait à travers les larmes qui coulaient sur son visage.

Le bourreau se tenait prêt, un sourire tordu sur le visage, levant haut le flambeau. Les gens du peuple haletaient, certains se détournant, incapables de supporter ce spectacle. Et puis, les flammes l’ont engloutie, un cri perçant déchirant la place. Le son résonnait sur les bâtiments en pierre et se répercutait dans le cœur des spectateurs.

À travers le chaos, une voix solitaire s’éleva au-dessus des cris, un cri de défi. “Pas plus!” C’était l’un des roturiers, la voix tremblante d’émotion. “C’est fini maintenant !” Ses paroles ont déclenché une flamme de rébellion dans la foule, un élan de détermination se propageant comme une traînée de poudre.

Les cieux pleuraient, les anges témoignaient de la cruauté de l’homme. Mais à ce moment-là, alors que les cris de la jeune femme se fondaient dans un silence obsédant, une nouvelle résolution est née. La bataille contre l’injustice ne faisait que commencer.

– JJ

(It felt apropos to translate to French.)

Yes, I’m done. Shaddup.

The Decemberists have made a triumphant return with their new singles. I wait with bated breath for the album. For now, dive into the details of their other latest release and upcoming North American tour below.

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Pop Goes 1825

The Decemberists’ other appetizer, “Burial Ground,” is a conscious blend of jangly guitars, swelling horns, and infectious melodies. Lead singer Colin Meloy’s clever lyrics, accompanied by James Mercer of The Shins on backing vocals, create a pop gem that is sure to captivate audiences.

According to Meloy, the song is a tribute to spending time in graveyards, with the melody coming to him in a dream. This dream-inspired track stands out as a testament to the band’s songwriting prowess and ability to craft catchy tunes. But again, do not be fooled. They remain The Decemberists.

Upcoming Tour Dates

The Decemberists will embark on an extensive North American tour, spanning both spring and summer legs. From Kingston, NY to Troutdale, OR, fans across the country can catch the band live at various iconic venues.

Spring Leg

1. April 30: Kingston, NY – Ulster Performing Arts Center
2. May 3: Brooklyn, NY – Brooklyn Paramount Theatre
3. May 24: Nashville, TN – Ryman Auditorium