Jolie Holland
Escondida

The most beautiful song from this album I heard one afternoon on the radio. A voice like Lady Holiday who has eaten a fisherman and a somewhat brushed drum, a choked jazzy rhythm.
It ended too soon, I could have listened to it for hours. Fortunately, for once, they mentioned the title at the end: Mad Tom Of Bedlam - Jolie Holland!
This song was enough to make me buy the CD; everything else is extra, I thought, a bonus.
Then I found out that Jolie Holland didn't write that song and that the rest aren't quite like this track; perhaps it's missing that touch of madness and quirky improvisation. But it's beautiful just the same - even if - it roams through the roots of the most traditional American music, but the kind so ancient it has recently been rediscovered by many young musicians. They call it the Prewar folk explosion, and among the pioneers are Devendra Banhart, Joanna Newson, and Langhorne Slim, just to name a few.

Music for sitting on the porch longer than necessary, with the front door open to let in just a piece of the starry sky (the enormous sky of Lombard Texas) while thinking about how to make ends meet in the ranch studio (this year there’s been a cow die-off...).
Or to pull out the old denim overalls and sit watching the sunset and the barred barge 92 flowing slowly on the river of the inner circle, ukulele, bare feet, and a samurai between the teeth.
Or to hang around with something on the rocks in hand in the ever less smoky Scimmie Cotton Club of the roaring canal, satin mini, a gardenia, and a sad song in the hair.
Even citygirls get the blues?