Jason Creps
SLEEPER HIT: "It came from a dream I had where I met a
tornado and it wanted me to read it a book."
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[ rock/pop]
In which she solves the mysteries of our favorite songs ...
Haunted by a cold choir of angels and eerie murmurs, this zombie-walking waltz from 2006's Fox Confessor Brings the Flood stitches together sensuous images of victimhood, in varying degrees: a lover drowned in oil, a knee skinned on the sidewalk and some vague other tragedy made more horrible by its apparent unremarkableness. "This is nothing new, no television crew/ They don't even put on the siren," sings Case, trailed by a dim echo of herself. In this verse, she is the loved one watching the ambulance disappear into the darkness. "My nightgown sweeps the pavement/ Please/ Don't let him die."
Says Case: "This one took a couple years — it started as a sing-songy fairy tale and ended up being a story about my neighborhood in Chicago. I didn't want to be too specific so I just followed a couple characters through their lives. This one gets requested a lot, which makes me happy 'cause I worked on it for so long."
This year's Middle Cyclone was an album defined by its violent overtones, but the lyrics to this peppy little rock song are particularly brutal. Here, Case is a force of nature driven by bloodlust: "Carved your name across three counties/ Ground it in with bloody hides/ Their broken necks will line the ditch/ Till you stop it/ Stop this madness/ I want you."
Says Case: "It came from a dream I had where I met a tornado and it wanted me to read it a book. The song did not end up with that story in it, but the main character is literally a tornado."
"I'm told the eventual downfall's/ Just a bill from the restaurant/ You told me I could order the moon, babe/ Just as long as I shoot what I want."
Those might not even be the real words. This befuddling New Pornographers song — written by A.C. Newman for the 2000 album Mass Romantic — was an early hint at Case's agile vocal power. She rocks. The song rocks, with louder guitars and catchier choruses than anything you'll find in her solo catalog. It's a bit strange, though, hearing a precise songwriter like Case belting out lyrics that remain undivined some nine years on.
Says Case: "I have no idea what this song is about. Never have. I really don't need to, though — I like the mystery. It's like a triathlon trying to sing it. It's very athletic."
Neko Case, Wed., July 29, 8 p.m., $35, with Jason Lytle, Kimmel Center, 300 S. Broad St., 215-893-1999, kimmelcenter.org.
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