Biography:
Joanna Newsom (born Joanna Caroline Newsom on 18 January 1982 in California) is an American multi-instrumentalist, songwriter, singer, and actress. Newsom was classically trained on the harp in her youth, and began her musical career as a keyboardist in 2002 in the San Francisco-based indie band The Pleased.
Newsom started taking piano lessons at a very early age and played for a couple of years, but switched to the harp at seven. Her approach to the harp
Read more on Last.fm
Other songs:
- '81
- Bridges And Balloons
- Clam Crab Cockle Cowry
- Emily
- On A Good Day
- Peach, Plum, Pear
- 81
- A Pin Light Bent
- Anecdotes
- Autumn
- Baby Birch
- Book Of Right
- Ca The Yowes To The Nowes
- Cassiopeia
- Clam Crab Cockle Cowrie
- Cosmia
- Divers
- Does Not Suffice
- Easy
- En Gallop
- Esme
- Go Long
- Good Intentions Paving Company
- Goose Eggs
- Have One On Me
- In California
- Inflamatory Writ
- Inflammatory Writ
- Jackrabbits
- Kingfisher
- Leaving The City
- Look And Despair
- Make Hay
- Monkey Bear
- No Provenance
- Occident
- Only Skin
- Peach Plum Pear
- Ribbon Bows
- Sadie
- Sapokanikan
- Sawdust And Diamonds
- Soft As Chalk
- Sprout And The Bean
- Swansea
- The Divers Wife
- The Fray
- The Northstar Grassman And The Ravens
- The Things I Say
- This Side Of The Blue
- Time As A Symptom
- Waltz Of The 101St Lightborne
- What We Have Known
- You And Me Bess
- You Will Not Take My Heart Alive
Four years of hard work!This month of May we celebrated four years on the air. We continue working on the dissemination of this wonderful instrument, thank you for participating in our story!
GO LONG
CAPO 4
I didn’t think it were possible for her to write a tune like this, but it is
seriously just this progression repeated:
Em, G
Em, G
Em, G
D, C
Last night, again,
you were in my dreams
several expendable limbs were at stake
you were a prince, spinning rims
all sentiments indian-given
and half-baked
I was brought
in on a palanquin
made of the many bodies
of beautiful women
brought to this place to be examined,
swaying on an elephant:
a princess of india
We both want the very same thing.
We are praying
I am the one to save you
But you don't even own,
your own violence
Run away from home-
your beard is still blue
with the loneliness of you mighty men,
with your jaws, and fists, and guitars
and pens, and your sugarlip,
but I've never been to the firepits with you mighty men
Who made you this way?
Who made you this way?
Who is going to bear your beautiful children?
Do you think you can just stop,
when you're ready for a change?
Who will take care of you
when you're old and dying?
You burn in the Mekong,
to prove your worth,
Go Long! Go Long!
Right over the edge of the earth!
You have been wronged,
tore up since birth.
You have done harm.
Others have done worse.
Will you tuck your shirt?
Will you leave it loose?
You are badly hurt.
You're a silly goose.
You are caked in mud,
and in blood, and worse.
Chew your bitter cud,
Grope your little nurse.
Do you know why
my ankles are bound in gauze
(sickly dressage:
a princess of kentucky)?
In the middle of the woods
(which were the probable cause),
we danced in the lodge
like two painting monkeys.
I will give you a call, for one last hurrah.
If this tale is tall, forgive my scrambling.
But you keep palming along the wall,
moving at a blind crawl,
but always rambling.
Wolf-spider, crouch in your funnel nest,
If I knew you, once,
now I know you less,
In the sinking sand,
where we've come to rest,
have I had a hand in your loneliness?
When you leave me alone
in this old palace of yours,
it starts to get to me. I take to walking,
What a woman does is open doors.
And it is not a question of locking
or unlocking.
Well, I have never seen
such a terrible room-
gilded with the gold teeth
of the women who loved you!
Now, though I die,
Magpie, this I bequeath:
by any other name
a jay is still blue
with the loneliness
of you mighty men,
with your mighty kiss
that might never end,
while, so far away,
in the seat of the west,
burns the fount
of the heat
of that loneliness.
There's a man
who only will speak in code,
backing slowly, slowly down the road.
May he master everything
that such men may know
about loving, and then letting go.
CAPO 4
I didn’t think it were possible for her to write a tune like this, but it is
seriously just this progression repeated:
Em, G
Em, G
Em, G
D, C
Last night, again,
you were in my dreams
several expendable limbs were at stake
you were a prince, spinning rims
all sentiments indian-given
and half-baked
I was brought
in on a palanquin
made of the many bodies
of beautiful women
brought to this place to be examined,
swaying on an elephant:
a princess of india
We both want the very same thing.
We are praying
I am the one to save you
But you don't even own,
your own violence
Run away from home-
your beard is still blue
with the loneliness of you mighty men,
with your jaws, and fists, and guitars
and pens, and your sugarlip,
but I've never been to the firepits with you mighty men
Who made you this way?
Who made you this way?
Who is going to bear your beautiful children?
Do you think you can just stop,
when you're ready for a change?
Who will take care of you
when you're old and dying?
You burn in the Mekong,
to prove your worth,
Go Long! Go Long!
Right over the edge of the earth!
You have been wronged,
tore up since birth.
You have done harm.
Others have done worse.
Will you tuck your shirt?
Will you leave it loose?
You are badly hurt.
You're a silly goose.
You are caked in mud,
and in blood, and worse.
Chew your bitter cud,
Grope your little nurse.
Do you know why
my ankles are bound in gauze
(sickly dressage:
a princess of kentucky)?
In the middle of the woods
(which were the probable cause),
we danced in the lodge
like two painting monkeys.
I will give you a call, for one last hurrah.
If this tale is tall, forgive my scrambling.
But you keep palming along the wall,
moving at a blind crawl,
but always rambling.
Wolf-spider, crouch in your funnel nest,
If I knew you, once,
now I know you less,
In the sinking sand,
where we've come to rest,
have I had a hand in your loneliness?
When you leave me alone
in this old palace of yours,
it starts to get to me. I take to walking,
What a woman does is open doors.
And it is not a question of locking
or unlocking.
Well, I have never seen
such a terrible room-
gilded with the gold teeth
of the women who loved you!
Now, though I die,
Magpie, this I bequeath:
by any other name
a jay is still blue
with the loneliness
of you mighty men,
with your mighty kiss
that might never end,
while, so far away,
in the seat of the west,
burns the fount
of the heat
of that loneliness.
There's a man
who only will speak in code,
backing slowly, slowly down the road.
May he master everything
that such men may know
about loving, and then letting go.
Joaquín B (...)
Joaquin De Rodri (...)
Joaquín S (...)
Joceline Leblanc
Jochi