Thursday, April 29, 2010

O, this song just takes me in

Brooklyn Bridge by Triborough

I cannot get enough of this song, which is good because in Portland is playing it a lot these days (because I'm not alone in loving the heck out of the song) in anticipation of The Avett Brothers' upcoming July concert in the area. It's been awhile, a long while actually, since I attended a concert at a smaller venue such as the one where they are booked. Going to this concert deserves serious consideration; I just might order two tickets.

Excerpts from a review at PopMatters, dated September 29, 2009:
Are the Avett Brothers the Next Big Thing? They certainly bring formidable weapons to the sweepstakes. The Avetts, guitarist Seth and banjoist Scott, are two sweet-singing, super-handsome bros who harmonize on idiosyncratic, soulful folk songs about love and family and connection, the kinds of tunes that inspire lots of linked arms and swaying heads from their fiercely-devoted fans. Signs at Avett Brothers shows often read “Avett Nation”, which feels accurate enough when the crowds of plaid-clad grad students dig deep and sing along in ecstatic unison. The North Carolina band, rounded out by bassist Bob Crawford and touring cellist Joe Kwon, have built up quite a head of steam lately, releasing the well-received Emotionalism in 2007 and the Gleam II EP last year, which marked the boys’ strongest songs yet (and some sweet beards—Seth was looking pretty Pennsylvania Dutch there for awhile). It’s no wonder that the Avetts caught the attention of Rick Rubin, who signed the band to his Columbia/American imprint and produced their new major-label debut, I and Love and You. . .

. . . I and Love and You starts off with the title cut and, as the lead single and the centerpiece of live shows over the summer, it’s a song they’re obviously proud of and for good reason—it’s stellar. The song is an ambrosial slice of heartland balladry, and with its piano intro, vocal harmonies, and the “You don’t know the shape I’m in” refrain, it feels like the ghost of Richard Manuel is overlooking the proceedings. The boys make a point of splitting vocal duties, with Scott on the first verse and Seth on the second, but it’s when they sing together that they maximize their strengths. The song appears to be about the healing balm of Brooklyn, but the universality that these guys are so good at capturing comes down to those three words that are hard to say. . .



Phivos Nicolaides said...

Very nice song. I like it!

Erin Davis said...

Oh, I LOVE THIS! I must get their CD.

Looking to the Stars said...

I've never heard of these guys, thanks for turning me on to them :)

Maggie May said...

it is a beautiful song, thank you for sharing it with us.

Lydia said...

Phivos~ Erin~ Stars~ Maggie~
Thanks for listening to and appreciating the Avett Brothers' song along with me. They just keep on collecting fans!

La Belette Rouge said...

After my father died I used to cry every time I crossed a bridge. It wasn't until much later that I learned that according to Jung the animus(the masculine in women) are symbolized by a bridge---as a the animus bridges to the Self.
Sorry for my tangent.
Great song!!

Lydia said...

La Belette Rouge~ I am glad for your tangent because I learned something about bridges as symbols. Your story is sweet and powerful, quite a remarkable link to your father.

The symbolism brings up questions about a recurring dream I used to have (but not for a long time now). My sister and I are in a car, I am the driver, and there is a female hitch-hiker on the side of the road that we decide to pick up. The three of us continue on to Portland (a city with numerous bridges). When we get on the Fremont Bridge I lose control of the car and -- with all three of us screaming -- the car bombs off the bridge. As we are heading for the water I am horrified that I am the cause of the death of my sister and a total stranger.

I sure wish I could pinpoint when that dream stopped haunting my nights. It has only been in recent years that I can keep my eyes open when my husband drives over the Fremont, and I'll probably never drive over the thing.

La Belette Rouge said...

Thoughts I would have if this was my dream:
* Car's are symbols of drive.
* Am I driving? If not, who is?
* How is my drive influenced by your sister and the "hitch-hiker?"
*Unknown figures often represent the shadow. I would ask myself about how some feminine aspect of myself was asking for a "lift" or a "free-ride".
*Three is the number of the trinity. There are three faces to the goddess. Three is a big spiritual number.
*I would ask myself what my associations to the Fremont Bridge are.
* I would wonder if the bridge is about bridging some aspect of self that I felt might be destructive.
*I would wonder how when I am connected to my drive, to the feminine and bridging(perhaps with the masculine).
* I would wonder what was symbolically dying in myself. What part of myself had I feel like had gone into the water( the unconscious).
But those are just my questions and may not feel relevant to your dream. You are the expert of your dreams.

Darlene said...

I discovered an interesting thing in listening to this song. Because of my severe hearing loss and poor sound speakers, I have trouble understanding many of the words in the lyrics, but I had no trouble understanding the repetition of "I love you" at the end.

I try to watch lips on TV with the sound off to see what words I can understand by lip reading. The two that are easiest to decipher are 'love' and 'hate'. It's s side issue to your post, but it did make me aware of the power of the word love.

La Belette Rouge said...

please forgive my typos and when I occasionally messed up on a pronoun or two.

Lydia said...

La Belette Rouge~ I think I may be one of the people on earth who is not the expert of her dreams! I have always been stymied by them, actually, so the ideas you have given here really help. After I replied I thought more about the time context of that recurring dream. It was definitely in the final years of my drinking life, with the year I lived in Portland being my tailspin downward. So I've always figured it had something to do with going off the deep end of addiction, loss of control, etc. I do not recall having this dream in sobriety; if I did it would have been way early on. So your bullet-points give more credence and more meat to the idea that it was about drinking/the need to quit drinking. Also, in my deepest despair in Portland it was the Fremont Bridge that I figured would be best to jump off of.

The other points you have brought up, those pertaining to my two passengers, and the concepts of drive - especially associated with "lift" or "free ride" - give me much to consider. And I am so very much appreciative of these keys and insights you have posed. You are fantastic!

Darlene~ What an amazing observation that love and hate are the two easiest words to understand lip reading. I think it is an important side issue to the post, and adds even more to the song for me. I admire so much the way you move beyond the limitations of your hearing loss.
If you care to you may read the lyrics.

Lydia said...

La Belette Rouge~ Geez I didn't notice any typos I was so into the reply! Your comment about them came through while I was replying to you and Darlene...

Lydia said...

La Belette Rouge~ I meant: I was so into the comment by you and not the reply I was writing. :)

Darlene said...

Thank you for the lyrics. I will listen to it again with more understanding.

Lydia said...

Darlene~ You are wonderful and vibrant and full of curiosity. :)

Rhiannon said...

I can relate to the words in this lovely song with in regards to what I am going through emotionally right now..

"all exits look the same"...

Thank you for sharing I love the song.



the watercats said...

Thankfully, there is a lot of excellent music coming back into the fore (if that even makes sense).. I think everyone got tired of listening to songs with no feeling and now, finally the beauty of lyrical writing is being appreciated again. These guys are just excellent!
(I envy them greatly though, lol)

Kristen said...

Wow, thank you for turning me on to another band! I found that song very moving. And I just want to say, THANK YOU SO MUCH for that FANTASTIC comment you left on my blog post! It really made my day (especially with being sick!) I'm very interested to hear what you got to say next! Have a great day!

Lydia said...

the watercats~ ". . . the beauty of lyrical writing" is such a good point about what we are seeing more of again. As to envying them, your band will always have admirers whether you remain in obscurity or not!

Kristen~ My pleasure on the music front, because I more than enjoyed your varied playlist last night. Think it's the best I've heard in the blogosphere, actually.
My pleasure regarding comments left as well...all true.
Get well!

Lydia said...

Rhi~ I am so sorry! I replied to you in my mind then missed the actual act. It really hit me that you referred to the line "all exits look the same" to happenings in your life right now. You are enduring much sadness, but with class and introspection that will lead you through it. I am glad that the song may have helped a little bit.



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