Hear Me Out: The 2007 arrangement of Joanna Newsom’s ‘Cosmia’ is better than the original
Joanna Newsom creates nothing other than masterpieces. She’s crafted four full-length albums that are worthy of the title, and it’s fair to say that all of the other odds and ends in her discography live up to the same lofty heights. If pushed to state what the defining point of her career is, though, many would probably leap to her second album, 2006’s Ys, as being her crowning achievement.
A five-song suite that showcases her immense talent as a harpist, lyricist, vocalist and composer, Ys is a display of progressive folk genius from an artist that only puts the greatest amount of care and effort into her work. From the opening track ‘Emily’ onwards, the listener is treated to Newsom’s sprawling and nirvana-inducing songwriting, where she turns personal subject matter into otherworldly visions informed by folklore.
With so few songs on the record but so much to digest in each one, there’s a good reason to debate over which track is the best on the album. The one that might get ignored more than the rest, however, is ‘Cosmia’, its closing chapter. By no means a weak song, it tackles the complex emotions that grief can bring, using moths as a symbol for change and rebirth, and does so in Newsom’s trademark poetic style.
That said, after the sheer density of the previous four tracks, its constant changes in tempo and time signature, along with the strings that seem to be spiralling out of control, can seem a little bit suffocating at times and holds the potential to tip the listener’s patience over the edge with how all-consuming it can be. It seems obscene to be critical of a song that was not only written and performed by Joanna Newsom but also features contributions from Steve Albini, Van Dyke Parks and Jim O’Rourke on recording and production duties, but it’s true that this isn’t the definitive version of the track.
On Newsom’s 2007 EP, which is humorously titled Joanna Newsom and the Ys Street Band, we are blessed with another version of ‘Cosmia’ which features a much more restrained but sonically varied arrangement.
The sparse ensemble with whom she recorded this alternate take features banjos and guitars accompanied by tambura and accordion, offering a Middle Eastern feel to the song as opposed to one informed by Western classical traditions. On top of all this, there is the gentle sound of a singing saw, which replaces the chaos of the string section with something more tranquil but retains the sense of mystery in the original.
With so much less going on in this version, you’re drawn towards intricacies in the song that were not as noticeable in the midst of the frantic moments, and the range of different timbres adds another layer of intrigue to the composition.
This isn’t the only rework of an older Joanna Newsom song on the EP, as she takes the same quintet of musicians to reimagine her early single ‘Clam, Crab, Cockle, Cowrie’ with equally stunning results, but it’s the stripped-back revision of ‘Cosmia’ that really stands above its original studio recording, becoming all the more enchanting in the process.
