Mama Juke – Magnolia Skies
If you muster the patience and spend enough time on the plays of Shakespeare, the paintings of Chagall, or the music of the Grateful Dead, you begin to get what they’re about. Anyone who says that the works of these artists attracted them initially is, most certainly, lying. How could they? They’re all written in code.
Shakespeare wrote in the English language, which is hard to decipher nowadays, and included themes related to history, war, and esoteric philosophies. Chagall tried to imagine himself as a child, painting his dreams and eliminating techniques. And the guys in The Grateful Dead were acid-freak hippies, occasionally making tender country music for people with the same kinds of interests as them.
Mama Juke’s “Magnolia Skies” is, upon first hearing it, a sweet-as-apple-pie country-lite song. But it’s not coming out of the prairie, and it’s sung down by the river. And that’s where it becomes interesting. It, too, is written in code. It’s a song written in the city about the beauty of the country. There’s hope attached to this and a peaceful, easy feeling as well.
Chris Costalupes – You’re Not Here Anymore
Most musicians have sidejobs, you know? And if it’s an economic necessity that drives them, if they’ve inherited millions of dollars, they work in the garden or take up fishing as a hobby. Can you imagine Keith Richard packing up his fishing gear ahead of a Rolling Stones world tour? That’s a terrible thing to consider, an ugly thing.
I’m sure that you, just like me, would rather imagine Keith Richard as a guy who can do precisely three things: write great riffs, smack people over the head with a guitar, and do colossal amounts of illegal, chemical refreshments. We’d like to think of our favorite rock stars as people who had no choice in the matter, as delicate artists fated to create masterworks. Like Jeffrey Lee Pierce of The Gun Club.
I’m not sure how good Chris Costalupes is at gardening or holding down a day job. But I’d like to imagine that he’s terrible at those things. It makes the loneliness of “You’re Not Here Anymore” feel all the more powerful. Like music made by someone who doesn’t have a romantic partner, a dog, or anyone to play cards with on a Saturday night. It brings to mind Jeffrey Lee Pierce’s melancholy shamanist country rock. Those are some of the most beautiful sounds. And, I betcha Pierce knew nothing about gardening either.
