The Swell Season - Low Rising
The Swell Season’s new album, Strict Joy, takes its name from a poem by James Stephens, an Irish poet. The following passage is found in the text of the LP’s namesake:
And know, in blindness and in poverty,
That woe was not of him, nor kind to him.
And Egan Rahilly begins a verse —
“My heart is broken, and my mind is sad …”
‘Twas surely true when he began his song,
And was less true when he had finished it:
— Be sure, his heart was buoyant, and his grief
Drummed and trumpeted as grief was sung!
For, as he meditated misery
And cared it into song — Strict Care, Strict Joy!
An Irish poem for an Irish band.
I saw the Swell Season at Amoeba in Hollywood last week. It is always an honor, I must say, to meet Glen Hansard, a man for whom music is such a delight that you can’t help but love him for it. The last time I met him, he told me to read John Fante’s Ask The Dust. This time around, I read a poem by James Stephens. He gave out CD recommendations at the end of the in-store, and it seems that I have a lot of Van Morrison to catch up on.
The Swell Season - Fantasy Man
I passed by a huge billboard for the Swell Season’s Strict Joy on Sunset last night. It was gorgeous, admittedly, but I felt sad that the Frames didn’t get the same break.
That said, Strict Joy is a fantastic listen. Cohesive and compelling. Well played, mates.
To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not, rich; to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart; to study hard; to think quietly, act frankly, talk gently, await occasions, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common—this is my symphony.
— William Henry Channing
Chances of me cooking 4 courses for 14 people in the future: 0.
