MARK LANEGAN Field Songs (2001)

I am retired grunge girl who now dabbles in housewifery. The angst coveting girl in flannel and cut-off grey sweats who listened to Nirvana, The Cure and Violent Femmes was left in the mid-nineties. Since then I had been looking for something. Music that excited me the way Smells like Teen Spirit had when I first heard it. The way The Pixies “Bone Machine” made me crave Japanese fast food. And though my torment had morphed from wild and dramatic teen agony to a quieter rebellion, I still needed a voice for it. I needed angst with experience.

And I know I’m not the only one. I know you’re out there. I see you in the coffee shop line with your kids wearing your tell tale converse. We catch eyes and smile knowing that we both dreamed of being satanic cheerleaders. So this is for you, us, the ex-grunge kids.

I knew Mark Lanegan as the lead singer of Screaming Trees, a fringe grunge band that had some success. Their song (that I knew every word to) “Nearly Lost You” in 1992 was a hit. And when I heard his voice for the first time as a solo artist, I knew I had found it___what I was looking for.

Field Songs from beginning to end is poetry. Decidedly different from his work with Screaming Trees, Lanegan’s solo efforts are personal and intimate. His whisky-drenched and smoky voice is steeped in knowing, and I gladly drink it up every time I hear it. It’s gritty, lyrical and pains-takingly direct

The stars and the moon

Aren’t where they’re supposed to be

For the strange electric light

It falls so close to me.

Love, I come to ride

High on that seasick rolling wave

And you know that I am

Just trying to get out

Oh the glorious sound

Oh the one way street

But you can’t get

Can’t get it down without crying

That’s from One Way Street and dare I say it, it grips me. Every time. If my soul could sing to me it would be Mark Lanegan’s voice emanating from my gut with the three pack a day habit and all. No Easy Action, a hard driving anthem, continues down that path.

When all is done and turned to dust

And insects nest inside my bones, I see

I stagger in a daze outside my tent

No time for being alone

To bleed

The hopeless singing of a round

That much we know to do

Before we go back underground

No easy action

Then the music slows and eases into Miracle, a dues ex machina minute in the middle of an album of suffering.

I promise you a miracle

And it will be done

Upon this one last disappearing

Bells toll, new lands and I look up

Sometimes

To see this old black Mary

Reach down for me

But the relief doesn’t last long. Don’t Forget Me (and this could be my lovely cynical self) has a bitter sarcastic edge:

…I know that there’s somebody new

Much better than me

When that change starts to swing, keep in mind one thing

Don’t forget me dear

Because my love is true, give my best to you

Don’t forget me dear

I won’t lie. I admit I’ve sung this in the shower hoping whose words will somehow reach my ex’s ears. But my favorite has to be Resurrection Song. It’s sorrowful and comforting.

…Night lays me down when I’m fading

When I can’t go home because they hate me

To sing that resurrection song…

I listen to music to feel familiarity. Connection. I only mentioned a few of the songs, but the rest resonate. They are laced with images of being lost and looking for an anchor. Although there are no answers, in the end with Fix, there is a sort of acceptance or resignation that you do what you need to, to get through and perhaps, just perhaps, love.

Love will be what’s hidden

In every single fragment

I look and I fly

A flower born from you

And I am joined with you

And adorned with you

Field Songs is a story. Hardships in life, hardships in love. Melancholy, certainly, but there are also moments of hope woven through.

If you ever get a chance to see him live do not miss the opportunity. He’s captivating. He also has many side projects including Queens of The Stone Age, The Gutter Twins (his collaboration with Greg Dulli from The Afghan Wigs) and Isobel Campbell (from Belle and Sebastian); and they are all fantastic.

Field Songs is essential listening. I’m glad I found it. The retired grunge girl in me is too.

Beth Navarro grew up in the Chicago suburbs fortunate to be surrounded by a family of storytellers that nurtured and encouraged her writing and acting dreams. Currently she is a resident writer and actor in Los Angeles’ critically acclaimed Theatre Tribe.  Her play Def.i.ni.tion, will be produced in 2010 and her short film, After, will be hitting the film festival circuit this fall.