RockettotheSky Medea. It starts off menacing. A tortured whisper in the darkness. Field recordings, woodwinds, the sound of an orchestra of vagabonds and thieves warming up with mission to back up a fairy dancing in the meadow cleared among the fir trees and the snocapped peaks in the distance echo back this dreaminess. It is tingles and sighs more than it is song, it's primal and a relief. She isn't a marvelously technical singer, she's in some sort of Bjork meets PJ Harvey school of singing/cooing. Passion as stand in for technique. It's marvelous. Here arrives the big climax just now with heavenly tones and twinkles and absurd ambition taking hold. It's a hybrid of mythical records that could have once been released on Too Pure and 4ad. It's marvelous, really. LIttle lost girl twirling her fingers in her hair whispering into a stranger's microphone underneath a bridge in darkest Helsinki or Bergen or wherever. Second song, stronger, louder, multi-tracked vocals, beautiful all over. I've since found her first album and it is more conventionally singer-songwriter. Not as thrilling as this record, this has star making material, in a world that cared more of substance than style. Spoken word, Jean Smith as pixie-ness. Second time that I have used pixie today. I have been taking days of recently, I have recaptured some of my imaginative brain matter. I don't dread the night of sleep of night before tedium nights of sleep any longer. I have been discovering these beautiful records on these idle days. This is near top of the roost. Third song. Just now Devotchka is playing on my television, I can't see the screen, it is How It Ends, the beautiful bits of How it Ends in glorious technicoloured sound and glory. I've never seen Little Miss Sunshine, this is a novel experience. Third song, vague and artful, coo coo and now high pitched squealie wordless moments of glee. A background of simple keyboards plonked and winds through the willows. Very Piana. Next song. More of a new wave feel to this, almost dancey, technologically savvy for a start and thrusting until it falls away and her tender spoken word bits take to the center. Multi-tracked tenderness. I've ben listening to the Au Revoir Borealis album all evening long, it's the most beautiful thing really. This has suddenly turned all Debbie Gibson, you won't mind, will you? There is a strong streak of Kate Bush in this. Somewhere between Hounds of Love and Never Forever, less of the brilliant literary allusions and more of the eschatology from the north, a passionate crawling out of the darkness into the sunrays glimpse. Very Bjork at the moment. what is it about Scandinavia that engenders this sort of epic and heroic tales in pop music feel of the music. It's in Efterklang and Mum and Mogil but strangely not in most Swedish music. Is it because Sweden is not as austere in their traditions and attitudes and seem more apt to borrow from other cultures whereas things that escape their compatriots lands seem more diy and darker by nature. I recall reading that although Norway is rather prosperous streets resemble those in Havana with run down autos and there a raucous furor over gauche types installing electricity in their holiday retreats in the wood. Next song, a hum and a signal beacon from a commodore 64 and her eerie vocals wavering and quashed by technology and time. It's dramatic and silly but we don't mind, she's going for the enchanted chanteuse angle is she not as successful in the same realm as Joanna Newsom and Coco Rosie certainly but she has an adventurous streak that is now leading to some sort of rush of electronic harpischordishness and hollowed out wails to heaven. Gorgeous. I've just seen the photos of the new look Pipettes, a bit jarring to see the new girls in their polka dots and dreadful bangs. This song has just turned very Cocteau Twins. Who knows what the new Pipettes sound like. I do not and I don't really have any desire to hear them even if the one that remains is the only one who could actually sing. They seem so professional minded, in league with accountants and preteens. Next song. A folkie number, now with twinkles of piano and her stunning voice over the top of everything. Fairy tale music has never ben this beautiful surely. There is a circular majesty to this, no beginning or end just a revolving melody and hr dreaminess laid bare for voracious appetites. There is a sophistication in the arrangements, again very Kate Bush, Kate Bush meets early His Name is Alive. When Joebama wins what will become of my impulse towards escapism, will it be stoked even more furiously as he leads us down into the abyss? Who is Joebama? That is the real dilemma, even for his supporters, he's running as a symbol rather than as a candidate. How long before he's cast out as a false prophet? 11 months? Next song. Elephant Van Sant, looping piano and counting and vocals stepping out from the ether, again with the circular structure it's song poems there are words but I can't seem to understand what they impart but I am sure it is much to do with the contents of her dream diaries and the night sky and comets and heaven and fields of gold and clouds in the shape of forgotten friends. It's delirium and beauty and grace. Too Pure would never have released this, I lied. 4ad would have. Rough Trade would have. Now anthemic qualities of hushed backing vocals, low end and hymnal chants and exquisiteness. I am being vague and ethereal at the moment. The end of daylight savings, I had another hour to cavort and commit sins of revelry and I was asleep and dreaming I could have joined the Pipettes. In my dreams. But I did not. Instead I dreamt of the new Chemical lasers which will apparently incinerate the foes of a US military. Really, read the new issue of the Economist, Ronny Raygun's Raygun will be a reality rather soon it appears. How brilliant when Joebama invades Iran to have a giant chemical laser there to cast everyone into the fires of hell, literally. Don't think Joebama won't take us to war with Ira, he'll get a pass from the media and will thusly be permitted absolute ruthlessness in his pursuit of nothing in particular. Next song. Very Kate Bush backing vocals. Kate Bush must be her hero. All young girls should hold Kate Bush as their heroine for life. Kate Bush is my hero. I keep meaning to write about The Dreaming but what words could do it justice? None that could originate from these scarred fingers torn from the domain of creativity and put in employ of mindless pursuits of binary emptiness. I had a date this weekend. I met a really lovely young woman who lives in a different world than I do. Who knew there were in existence multiple universe under the different noses of different passersby, they see the sky is full of leopards and jesus and you see it filled with amethysts and bowls of rice. It was a strange evening. And sex. Second to last song, longest track on the album, Chorus. I can make out the words here. What is the kernel of genius? Is it labour or inspiration? I have been reading books on brilliant people and it appears to be labour. Obviously they are endowed with gifts prodigious and uncommon but they also have a singlemindedness of purpose that I clearly lack. The ability to sit down and think on a problem for days at a time, to hold a flame of passion alight protected from the buffeting winds of failure long greet kindly greatness. i don't own any of these particular characteristics. I can dream them into existence but when I awake the moment has faded and mundanity returns. What of these people who chase immortality, it seems it turns them only narcissistic with rage. I don't want to fall in love with a fool. Somewhat epic is this, second movement is whispers and amniotic overflow. Will the new Pipettes be odd and delicate and flowery and esoteric? Unlikely. I am pretty certain the other two' output will be parody proof. When the election ends there will not be any more election advertisements. Those whom in advertisements are alleged to be murderers and rapists and baby eaters shall be elected to office and the world will keep turning and nothing will change and in two years it will all begin again. What a vile system. Elect RockettotheSky, she's more in tune with reality than Joebama surely. Interesting, I've just googled her image and she looks like she escaped from a box of swiss miss and she has a fantastic bowl haircut. Chants to belial. Woo. Last song, antiqued, recorded from under the floor boards, tell tale heart and Tippie Hedron style, silent movie soundtrack music and an even more delicate whisper. The range of whispers is impressive. This is a gorgeous farewell from a magnificent record. I will walk out into the darkness this evening armed with Au Revoir Borealis and RockettotheSky as prized companions and will barely feel the envy welled in my footprints as they echo back the richer memories of travelers past.