I
was meant to write a piece on Simon Joyner for my friend's magazine
SALT, but the feature on cult artists was delayed – in part because
I never wrote the piece on Simon Joyner as a cult artist. The process
of thinking about that article got me wondering about why it is I
like Simon Joyner so much. None of his albums would make my all-time
top twenty records, but I've taken the time to collect nearly
everything he's recorded (with the exception of a couple of
hard-to-find cassettes). Why did I go to this trouble? The reason why
I tracked it all down is because he doesn't write bad songs –
everything he's written is worth listening to. The only other
songwriter I can say that about is Jason Molina. He's also a rare
example of an artist who hasn't deteriorated over time – in fact,
for the most part, he's improved with each LP. It's impossible to
distil what is so impressive about his songwriting so all I could
think to do was to pick a few examples of his brilliance.
There
are many recurring characters in his songs, most notably Sara and
Josephine. Maybe they're real people, maybe they're not – and even
if they're real it doesn't mean the stories are true. The songs are
fiction and I doubt you could really find that much about their
creator if you wanted to. For one, Joyner is much lighter and more
approachable in person that many of the characters that inhabit his
songs, and I doubt he's suffered all the traumas they have. There's
so much I could say about his songwriting but I should let some of
his own words do the talking.
It's
anomie
Lonely
boy why don't you go see a show
It's
a sure-fire cure
Pretend
the drumbeat is your heart
From
Double Joe, Room Temperature LP, 1993 (One Hour records; reissued by
Jagjaguwar in 2005)
I
can't think of any other song that uses the word “anomie”, though
no doubt there are some. I had this song, along with a few others, on
a mix-tape before I owned any Simon Joyner records and it was only
when I got the LP with lyric sheet was it confirmed that's what he
was actually singing. In fact I once asked him about it and he said
that people tended to think he was singing “its enemy”, which
really wouldn't make sense.
Take
her to the movies Friday
Just
to see Paul Newman's eyes
From
Flowers On Her Birthday, The Motorcycle Accident EP, 1999 (Room Tone)
Flowers
on Her Birthday is my favourite Simon Joyner song, perhaps because
I'm a sentimental fool. There is nothing I can say about these words
other than that they are perfect.
I
had to cut out for some fresh air on the landing
But
all I got was the smell of rotten fruit rising up from the alley
From
Evening Song To Sally, Lost With the Lights On LP, 2004 (Jagjaguwar)
I
could have chosen pretty much any line in this song as all six verses
are so wonderfully crafted. However, there's something so evocative
about these lines – for one they imply a stifling, claustrophobic
heat without this being mentioned explicitly at all. I've always been
able to picture the scene in my mind and where it takes place. The
song continues “Suddenly I realised I wasn't young anymore and I
was still hiding out from your daddy / I had spent so long loving
you” - there's something Proustian about those lines and the
realisation of the passing of time.
I
was jamming my hands in my pockets
I
swear I was zero at the bone
From
One For the Catholic Girls, 7”, 1998 (Wurlitzer Jukebox; compiled
on Beautiful Losers, Jagjaguwar, 2006)
With
many of his songs there is an explicit reference to the weather or
temperature – perhaps it's something to do with living in Nebraska.
This captures something that I'd never even noticed before, at least
not consciously: pushing your hands in your pockets as far as they'll
go and then keeping on pushing even though its utterly futile – you
can only break the seam or hurt your fingers. You do it because
you're cold, but maybe you do it more because you're anxious or
upset.
As
long as it's fast I don't care if it's food
From
The Simultaneous Occurrence of True Love and Nausea at a South Omaha
Burger King Oct 12, 1992, Iffy cassette compilation, 1993, (Unread
Records; later reissued on vinyl)
Humour
is perhaps most effective when you don't expect it and it's perhaps
not the quality most people associate with Simon Joyner. To a point
this is a portrait of (sub)urban mundanity but he puts such cutting
words in the mouths of its protagonists, including “Who do you think
you are boy? H. L. Mencken?”. As ever, the devil is the detail.
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