balding angrily

I was originally going to call this “Things That Remind Me Of Oregon,” but I started gushing so much about Poi Dog Pondering, that I thought they deserved a full treatment. I’ll write about Oregon in a later post.

I worked at a record store, my dream job, as soon as I hit 16. In order to get the job, I had to prove to The Simpson’s Comic Book Store Guy-type manager that I really wanted to work there. I came back to the store week-after-week just to check in with him, and to convince him he should hire me.

One of the assistant managers, a lanky, long-haired guy, played Poi Dog’s self-titled debut albummany, many times throughout my shifts working behind the video rental counter. I remember at first I hated it. Frank Orrall’s voice - which Jerry says reminds him of The Housemartins - isn’t exactly pleasant for a 16 year-old trying to pinpoint his taste in music. His voice isn’t exactly unpleasant either, and it’s not like I ever listened to Debbie Gibson or Tiffany-style 80s bubblegum pop.

I wish I could adequately describe this album. It has a lot of acoustic guitar, backing vocals from band members that sound like friends come over during a jam-session, and the lyrics paint pictures of biosphere cycles, right-before-you-wake-up, slumbering dreams, and poetic sex.

After a couple of months of listening to Poi Dog in the store, I really started looking forward to it. For one thing, there was the trombone solo in “Aloha Honolulu.” I am a trombone player, and how often do you get to hear a trombone solo in modern songs? There was still the matter of the female voice on “Falling,” which to me at that time, was like nails on a chalkboard. Now, I love this song; she sounds like she took voice lessons in India, but it works. For a touch of irony, there’s a song called “Wood Guitar,” which, I believe, is the only song with an un-hush-able electric guitar hitting against bullish drums. After the last whine of it, a ballad-like acoustic guitar plays out the song.

Christmas came, and we visited my family in Oregon. I stayed a couple of nights with my cousin in Eugene where I made her boyfriend drag me around to all the electronics stores to look for a Discman. I bought one eventually, and later bought Poi Dog Ponderingand the soundtrack to The Little Mermaid. I played those two CDs back-to-back in my cousin’s furniture-less, starving-student apartment. She noted that my tastes in music were a bit inconsistent.

I believe I have CDs in my collection that I’ve had longer than these two, but very few. Poi Dog’s first album is still one of my most played. Whenever I want to feel happy and slightly hippy-ish, I find it on my iPod and sing along.

Here are lyrics from “Pulling Touch,” which, to me, is the most beautifully worded song about physical intimacy. It features Susan Voelz’s atmospheric violin in its long intro.

You are a butterfly and my eyes are needles
The cold has your breast and my hand is on fire
Are you resting and reposing? Oh, my veins are pulsing
And nothing can cure me, but your pulling touch
And nothing can cure me, but your pulling touch

I’ll stretch you out and lay along side you
Run my hands along, devour, and divide you

In the cool of the night under a rain-pelted roof
Beneath cotton-white linen our love is spilt
Are you the cup that I hold by the cheekbones?
I pull you close and I drink you up
Are you the cup that I hold by the cheekbones?
I pull you close and I drink you up

I’ll stretch you out and lay along side you
Run my hands along, devour, and divide you

Consider this post your Overlooked CD of the Week. I can, without reservation, recommend this album.