Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Music: Her Majesty by the Decemberists

Though this is not the most recent album by the Decemberists, we find that this is our favorite album, with a few of our all time favorite tracks by said band. The lead guitarist is an extremely well educated man (with a PhD in Russian Literature, if we recall accurately) and this shows through in his lyrics. Though we don't always understand what is being said (we are dogs after all), we love the sound of his voice, and we pretend that we understand better than anyone else.

"There is a city by the sea,
A gentle company,
I don't suppose you want to.
And as it tells its sorry tale
In harrowing detail,
Its hollowness will haunt you.
Its streets and boulevards,
Orphans and oligarchs, it hears
A plaintive melody,
Truncated symphony.
An ocean's garbled vomit on the shore.
Los Angeles, I'm yours.

Oh ladies, pleasant and demure,
Sallow-cheeked and sure,
I can see your undies.
And all the boys you drag about,
An empty fellow found
From Saturdays to Mondays.
You hill and valley crowd
Hanging your trousers down at heel.
This is the realest thing
As ancient choirs sing.
A dozen blushing cherubs wheel above;
Los Angeles, my love.

Oh, what a rush of ripe elan
Langour on divans,
Daliant and dainty.
But oh, the smell of burnt cocaine,
The dolor and decay,
It only makes me cranky.
Oh great calamity,
Ditch of iniquity and tears.
How I abhor this place,
Its sweet and bitter taste
Has left me wretched, retching on all fours.
Los Angeles, I'm yours."
--Los Angeles, I'm Yours

Quick vote: The lyrical mastery of the Decemberists is to be remembered. We adore them!

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