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Rating: Nevada City, on the border between Reno and Sacramento, is a small town of three thousand souls where everything evokes the ancient mining community, the gold rush, and the archaic life of families in the forests. Alela Diane was born and raised in these places of Northern California and tells primitive stories, rooted in the myth of the Frontier, of a Promised Land, a hope for a few chosen ones in search of fortune. When nature was a silent spectator, a loyal but sometimes hostile companion, that could harm.
These are stories of a young woman suspended in time, those she listened to as a child at home, with the attentive and curious eyes of pups hungry for the world. As if the yellowed and buried photos from centuries past, which Alela loved to observe, came to life with distant faces, forgotten gestures, and the harsh struggle for survival. The voice of the American storyteller is the ancestral echo of the spirits in the woods, the whisper of the wind among century-old shrubs, the immortal pride of a Modoc tribe. Sing to me of the long walks on the stone path that leads to the shore ("My Tired Feet"), use your words of sand and talk to me of joy, regret, atonement ("The Rifle"). You can blame the sky for your mistakes, even if you know that the reflection of our sins will run in the water ("Can you blame the sky, when a mama leaves her babies behind..Can you blame the sea, ‘cause she's a flowing in that water deep..").
"The Pirate's Gospel" was initially a collection of home demos, recorded by Diane with the help of her musician father. A handful of acoustic and bare tracks that already revealed the extraordinary artistic sensitivity of this modern Karen Dalton. Supported by the U.S. new-folk scene, Alela began touring with her friend Joanna Newsom and Akron\Family, and in 2006 the independent Holocene Music released a first version of "The Pirate's Gospel". Which in 2007 would be reissued in its definitive form, with small notes of piano and slide-guitar, by the French label Fargo.
The music of "The Pirate's Gospel" is a journey elsewhere, lulled by the expressive nudity of the six-string. An album destined for classic status thanks to the primordial enchantment of the double voices of Alela and the children's choirs in "Pieces Of String". For the absolute dreamlike suggestion of "Clickity Clack". And for the moving final dedication in which she recounts maternal wishes ("Oh! My Mama"). The "deluxe edition" reissue in a digipak contains the memorable "Heavy Walls", "Gipsy Eyes", and a bonus-DVD with 3 videos + live clips.
Alela Diane steals the heart from the very sepia-colored cover of the album, a timeless image showing the folk singer with the clothes and long black hair of a Native Indian. A poetic ghost from a remote era. The eternal gaze, the proud and wise face of the people who populate her rural and noble tales. Because the past is the sacred river of humanity and "..I'll never tip-toe across my home ever again..Ever again, ever again..And foreign tongue ties me here. Foreign tongue ties me here.."
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Tired Feet (02:41)
My tired feet
My tired, tried feet
My tired feet
Oh my tired feet
My tired feet brought me to that red boat
So still and foreign waters
And although I've never been here
Oh although I've never been here
I know that here I've swam before
Here I've swam before
And soon I came
Oh so soon I came
Soon I came
Oh so soon I came
Soon I came to the silent place of choir voices
In excelsis Deo
Deo
Where Jesus, he keeps the streets out
Jesus he keeps the heat out
Jesus he keeps the noise out
And here oh here I've sung before
Here I've sung before
I know that here I've sung before
Here I've sat, I've run, I've walked, I've cried
I've died
I've slept in 'til noon and I've laughed and I've sighed
I know that here I've sung before
Oh here I've sung before
I know that here I've sung before
Here I've sung before
02 The Rifle (02:43)
Oh I've been knocking on that door in my sleep
Fight my fireplace glow
I've been knocking on that door in my sleep
Fight my fireplace glow to keep me away,
To keep me away from home
Papa get the rifle from its place above the french doors
They're coming from the woods
Oh they're coming from the woods
And mama you're running too
Oh my mama your running too
Mama you're running too
Oh my mama your running too
Brother I'm so sorry that you watched the Patens burn
And I've been holding onto the gold
When lettin' go would free my hands
And I've been tying your tongue in a knot
Oh I've been tying your tongue in a knot
To wrap this death, to wrap this death in a sheet
And Papa get the rifle from its place above the french doors
They're coming from the woods
Oh they're coming from the woods
And mama you're running too
Oh, my mama you're running too
Mama you're running too
Oh, my mama you're running too
Brother I'm so sorry that you watched the Patens burn
I can't hide the dirty pads down there carpet anymore
No, no I can't hide the dirty pads down there carpet anymore
There were too many heavy boots
There were too many heavy boots
There were too many heavy boots
And there were too many big black boots
And there were too many little brown shoes marching though
So I'm countin' it to the sky
Oh I'm countin' it to the sky
I'm countin' it to the sky
Oh I'm countin' it to the sky
And moving back
Oh I'm moving back to
Face the lack of home
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