By shelz.
Musical chameleon PJ Harvey’s 8th studio album, Let England Shake is scheduled to drop in February and the first taste for the masses is “Written On the Forehead.” I’m sure her huge and loyal fan base is massively excited, especially since the release will bring a tour. I hear her live show is something spectacular.
The few songs I’ve heard from Harvey are dark and carry that uber artistic stamp that fools the pretentious into thinking it’s just convoluted enough to make them seem cool if they quote it. I’m sure that’s not Harvey’s intention, but it happens nonetheless.
Anyway, “Written On the Forehead” is a moody concoction of liquid synth, muted maracas, congas and sister Eve’s tambourine all wrapped in cloudy distortion and then smeared on top of Niney’s “Blood & Fire.” Sounds like a lot and it is, but it’s still relatively seamless.
From a cursory listen I’d say the vocals are more about interpreting a particular emotion than belting out a glass shattering performance. However, I’m not quite sure that the emotion is since I can’t make heads or tails of the lyrics. People are throwing money at belly dancers. They are throwing their belongings out on the side walk. Then there is something about war, sewage, burning oil and tangerine dreams. I don’t think she means the band either.
Maybe this is a political comment of some sort. The track sounds worrisome and the Niney sample is eerie as used. I’m not happy with her delivery, as Harvey sounds better to me when she smolders closer to the bottom of her range. But PJ’s legions of fans will love this. Write it on your forehead. PJ is back. Enjoy.
PJ Harvey – “Written On The Forehead”
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I took a stab at the lyrics. I thought she was talking about war and soldiers at first, but this is what surfaced…
people throwin’ dinners at the belly dancers
in a sad circus by a trench of burning oil
people throw belongings and lifetime’s earnings
amongst the scattered rubbish
suitcases on the sidewalk
date palms and orange and tangerine trees
and eyes are crying for everything
(let it burn, let it burn, let it burn burn burn)
(blood, blood, blood, blood and fire)
so i turn to an old man by the generator
he was standing on the gravel by the fetid river
he turned to me and then surveyed the scene
set for his healer in our beloved city
so dove in the river and tried to swim away
through tons of sewage
where he’d written on their foreheads
date palms and orange and tangerine trees
and eyes are crying for everything
(let it burn, let it burn, let it burn burn burn)
(blood, blood, blood, blood and fire)
let it burn, let it burn, let it burn burn burn
Two corrections…can you tell I’m obsessed?
War is back in…
people throwin’ dinars at the belly dancers
in a sad circus by a trench of burning oil
people throw belongings and lifetime’s earnings
amongst the scattered rubbish
suitcases on the sidewalk
date palms and orange and tangerine trees
and eyes are crying for everything
(let it burn, let it burn, let it burn burn burn)
(blood, blood, blood, blood and fire)
so i turn to an old man by the generator
he was standing on the gravel by the fetid river
he turned to me and then surveyed the scene
said war is here in our beloved city
so dove in the river and tried to swim away
through tons of sewage
where he’d written on their foreheads
date palms and orange and tangerine trees
and eyes are crying for everything
(let it burn, let it burn, let it burn burn burn)
(blood, blood, blood, blood and fire)
let it burn, let it burn, let it burn burn burn