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CASH Music


APPEARS ON:
- Crooked, 2010

WORDS FROM KRISTIN:
- "I know I just played this song yesterday, but all I can remember is hearing it pour out of the speakers. I guess because I didn’t stop to think before jumping in. All I had to refer to was a seriously scary piece of notebook paper with Sharpie scribbles all over it.
I fished this out of my bag on the flight back to the U.S. from the Edinburgh Fringe festival, dizzy with the flu, and added fuzzy production notes on top of lyrics on top of chords on top of sheet music on top of rhythm and structural changes. By the time we landed in Newark, it was a mess (Rob Ahlers calls my song notebook "an ugly mind").
So when Rizzo pressed "record" yesterday, I squinted at my notebook, then just started putting stuff down. I could have fucked this song up real bad.
Mississippi Kite just goes, though; I couldn’t really get it in its way. It’s driven by the lyrics, which is something I rarely say about a song. They’re hot and bothered, as usual, but also woozy: this day as a dream.
Those lyrics got happy over the rhythm section and then I could do no wrong on top, adding some rather delicate overdubs and then stepping out of the way.
A happy feel can still make a sad song, though. Mississippi Kite talks and lists and spits and talks some more, never really shuts up, but ends up only telling you that something’s missing.
Love, Kristin"

"Mississippi Kite"
(written by Kristin Hersh)
 
You paint your own T.V. on the wall
Carve out insects to feed us all
Lights flash by and the fast world echoes your thoughts
Your compass led you to the edge of a lake
You'll singe your nuts down there if you take
Such bad advice from the love gods of hate
You'll get cold
You get burned, you get cold
You get burned, you get cold
You get burned, you get cold
On the plush green rug in the lime green light
Eyes like white stones in black light
I promise you everything that you like
I go Mississippi kite
Mississippi kite
Mississippi kite
Gloss assails us, then dims
Comic book nights, L.A. grim
The Hollywood martians, lucky stiffs, fucking win
You told me enough times you can't give me enough rope
To hang myself one time but I can always hope
You come down on me so hard that I choke and go
You get burned, you get cold
You get burned, you get cold
You get burned, you get cold
Meanwhile I feed you boric acid and air
Lemon drops, snow cream, speckled eggs
The sweat seeps in through a crack in your head
And you go Mississippi kite
Mississippi kite
Mississippi kite
Mississippi kite
Mississippi kite
Mississippi kite

CLICK TO ENLARGE!
mississippikitepg1.jpg
Lyric scans courtesy of Wojtek

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Fireworks for you in the ozone snow.