¤ milky moon ¤

New interview from Paste:


Joanna Newsom Discusses Divers and Her Solipsistic Swagger
By Pat Healy | November 24, 2015 | 12:55pm

Joanna Newsom is just as likely to drop an f-bomb into conversation as she is to drop a word that you have to look up. Her latest album, Divers, is a dense exploration of the shape of history, often told from the perspective of the future. The instrumentation similarly probes this puzzle of “when are you from?”, mixing her signature throwback harp and dizzying string sections with spacey synthesizers. Divers is conceptual, yet it just may be the most accessible of her four official full-lengths. In short, Joanna Newsom is a study in contrasts, and so is Divers.

Speaking a few weeks before she is set to begin a North American tour, she is quick with a laugh and generous in assisting with the comprehension of her art. When I ask her about the forever-looping structure of the album, and how that seems at odds with her appreciation of vinyl, she acts as if I have uncovered a secret.

“Mmmm,” she says, almost like a game show host, pausing for dramatic effect as she considers whether or not my observation is correct. “You are right!”

And when you are right, Joanna Newsom rewards you with a more detailed explanation.

“I think that this record is sort of pinned up, for viewing purposes, with a series of tacks that represent various points of binary tension,” she says. “It’s sort of held apart by these contrasts, within the body of the record, and that’s one of them. It’s going to sound best on vinyl, but from a dissecting standpoint, it definitely is most complete if you observe it in that digital format.”

Paste: Much of this album is about time, and it’s been five years since your last release. A lot has changed since 2010. Did you give any consideration to the musical landscape that this new album would be dropping into?
Joanna Newsom: I didn’t consider it while I was making the record. After that, I did consider it in a bit of panic. Drag City is a smaller label and there’s sort of a long turnaround time, and of course I always want to make sure when the digital version of my album comes out, that it’s the same day that the physical versions come out, and that the vinyl is available in stores. So there’s a bit of a turnaround time when I finish a record, and turn it in, and in this case it was like four months. That’s the period of time where I go from this like solipsistic swagger of like “It doesn’t matter. It’s just for me. No one will ever hear this. I’m just completely following my every creative whim and desire.” I go from that to the complete opposite end of the spectrum, where it’s like, “FUUUUUUUCCCK!” You know? This is a new world, where people have bought versions of themselves, updating what they had for breakfast, lunch and dinner when they’re stuck in traffic. It’s a completely different world and a completely different conversation. The fact is, I spent many years working on this record, and Drag City, my label, just followed me every step of the way and allowed it to be what I needed it to be, and supported me and funded it, and it was a huge project, and so there was definitely a moment where after it was done, it was like, “oh, I really hope that someone buys this record, because I would love to be able to pay my label back for me and the amount of faith that they put into me.”

Paste: Let’s talk a little bit more about the chiastic structure, and how the album ends with the word-fragment of “trans” and then begins with the word “sending.” One of my other favorite albums of this year, The Most Lamentable Tragedy, by Titus Andronicus, also presents itself as an infinite loop of sorts. I don’t know if you’ve heard that album yet…
Newsom: No, I haven’t.

Paste: At what point in the process did you realize that this was something you wanted to employ? And at what point did somebody figure out that you had done this? I’d imagine it didn’t happen right away.
Newsom: No, it didn’t. I do remember that the first person who found it didn’t bring it up to me during the interview. I think it might have been Kelefa Sanneh, from the New Yorker. He talked to me about certain things that were sort of edging towards this idea of the circularity, and then I think he sort of listened to it again, and then wrote about that. But it’s possible that someone else wrote before him about it. I don’t remember. I just know that when it first was being written about, it was something that someone had just kind of busted out on their own.

Paste: It must have been fun, from your perspective, after releasing the album, to watch people figure it out. Or do you even monitor it at all and do it truly just for yourself?
Newsom: That’s a good question. Things like mix and sequencing start approaching this space where I’m starting to think of it not necessarily as something that will be out in the world, but at least an album, as opposed to a series of songs. When I start thinking of it as an album, I start thinking of it as the physical medium of putting a record on and experiencing it as a series of songs that I wrote. But with the sequencing, I knew on this record from really early on, because the songs are harmonically connected, so they had to each fall in a certain order. So I did know what the first song would be and I did know what the 11th song would be.

Paste: I guess what I’m really wondering is whether or not you pay any attention to peoples’ discovery of these riddles or historical references that you bury within the lyrics?
Newsom: Firstly, I wouldn’t think of them as riddles. I think of them as sort of varying talismans or varying things that initially are there because they’re there to somehow strengthen my own belief in the little world that I’m trying to build. I’m trying to convince myself of that, and trying to create a home for these stories to live in. And to make it hospitable you have to do some terraforming and condition the atmosphere so that it’s breathable and I think that part of how I do that is lining a nice, cozy, padded layer of references and details and things that collectively create this sort of atmosphere of verisimilitude, and then the stories sort of saunter in and curl up and make themselves at home and it’s not necessarily there to be decoded, although it’s delightful to me when people take the time to do that. But it’s the background for the record. It’s not what the record is actually about.

Paste: Let’s take a song like “Sapokanikan.” What was the moment you realized you wanted to reference the place that is now known as Washington Square Park, and reference how 20,000 bodies are buried there?
Newsom: I think probably the very beginning kernel of that song would have come from just walking around in Washington Square Park, and walking around in Central Park as well, and walking around in Greenwich Village. There are a few other monuments that are referenced in that song as well that are just sort of buried throughout the Village. And getting very curious about what those monuments actually represent, what they’re memorializing. They’re all kind of odd. It’s not that it’s odd to memorialize the people whom they are memorializing, it’s that they commemorate the moments that they’re commemorating. And I started reading and thinking about that more, and thinking about what we as a culture choose to lionize and what we as a culture allow to be forgotten. And then I just started researching Washington Square Park and getting more and more fascinated and amazed by what had been layered on top of it, and I was also very fascinated by what was there before.

Paste: In this day and age, are you just going to Wikipedia, or are you consulting textbooks?
Newsom: A lot of it is Internet research. I’m not getting to a lot of microfiche.[Laughs.]

Paste: That would be a good montage though!
Newsom: It would! It really would!

Paste: I can picture you pulling out a huge dusty book and bringing it to the librarian…
Newsom: And then I’d open it, and I’d just have a laptop inside of it.

Paste: There is this theme of “how will time remember any of us?” on this album and a meditation of mortality that has been a through line of your work. On “Sadie” on your debut, there’s that line that really gives the song its gravitas, where you say, “we pray and suspend the notion that these lives do never end.” And I have to wonder how much of your day is spent thinking these deep thoughts, and pondering the limits of mortality?
Newsom: Very little! Very little of my day is spent thinking deep thoughts. I’m kind of a compartmentalizer. And I think part of making records for me is creating a repository for the things that are preoccupying me to a point where I get a little bit of paralysis. You know, where I can’t really get through my day because I’m thinking too much about certain ideas, or I’m worrying about certain things. I find myself just drifting off, thinking about these themes and not having any place to put them, so I start organizing them in album form. But, you know, I also watch a lot of bad TV.

Paste: What’s your show these days?
Newsom: Oh my God, I go through them so fast! At this moment I don’t know that I have a show. I shouldn’t even say “bad TV” because that implies an insult to anything I say after this, but I was really liking Homeland, although I’m not sure I can watch it for a little while at present. Life is just resembling it much too closely at the moment.

Paste: I can’t imagine that any TV you’ve been watching would have informed the content of this album.
Newsom: No. But that’s sort of what I mean when I talk about compartmentalization. I have the “trash” portion of my brain and I have the non-“trash” portion of my brain. But that’s not exactly true, because I know with Have One On Me, I kind of let certain parts of the “trash” portion of my brain inform the other side, because it felt connected somehow, to that narrator. I’m pretty obsessed with interior design, and I’m pretty obsessed with furniture design, and I’ve gotten really deep into that world, but in a really useless way, where I can’t afford anything. It’s like following a sports team where I’m really familiarizing myself with a bunch of glorious, amazing furniture designers whose pieces are like $100,000 each.

Paste: So it’s like fashion and Kanye, but from more of a distance?
Newsom: [Laughs] Yeah! Sure! Kanye from a Distance: The Joanna Newsom Story! But that part of my brain, the hyper aesthete, I sort of let into Have One On Me a little bit. It felt useful. It doesn’t feel useful for Divers, so I didn’t really let it in. It didn’t really have much of a relationship to that area, or to that idea, but it really connected to the kind of decadence and aesthetic saturation that characterized the previous record.

Paste: You say that you compartmentalize, but when you’re in the composition phase of working with these heavy concepts, do you talk with other people about it? Or is it not until you’re collaborating with other musicians?
Newsom: I mostly don’t talk about it. There are probably exceptions. And you’re right, the collaboration with other musicians is definitely when that conversation happens, and it suddenly swings really steeply to the other side, where suddenly I’m over-explaining things in a way I never would in an interview, or anything like that, because I’m trying so hard to get us all on the same page in terms of meaning; that very problematic word “meaning.” It’s such a beautiful thing to allow listeners to find meaning and determine it and name it for themselves and frame it in language and symbolic ways that fit for their conception of the songs, but when I’m working with arrangers and collaborators, I’m real bossy about it, where it has to feel exactly this way, it has to sound exactly this way, it has to evoke exactly this meaning, it has to work towards creating an environment that feels precisely this way, because we all have to agree what this song means. We have to agree in order to make this as concentrated as possible. So I really belabor meaning during that point.

Paste: How often do the people you’re working with tell you that they just don’t get it?
Newsom: I don’t think anyone’s ever said, “oh, I don’t get it,” in terms of like what the song is about, but I’ve had collaborators say, “I don’t understand what you mean when you say that you want this solo violin to be played in a rattling manner that evokes the sound of a rope stretching on a ship connecting to a dock.”

Paste: Is that an actual instruction you’ve given?
Newsom: I think so, at some point. [Laughs]. There’s a lot of little vignettes like that, that we talk about, and usually how we do these arrangements is that I’ll bring a lyric sheet, and kind of describe what I want to be happening musically, while each lyric is being sung. It’s constantly linked back to the narrative and to the words. And then, because it’s so subjective, sometimes it takes a lot of back-and-forth, because I can describe a sound that I want being “lonely and distant,” and “lonely and distant” can sound completely different to my ear than it would to the ear of a collaborator of mine, so then I may have to go back to the drawing board and think of a more precise wording than that.

Paste: I’ve often wondered too about the instances when you double or triple your voice and make it a chorus of Joanna Newsoms, which you do a lot on this album. Is that because you can’t find the right voice, or the right person who gets what you’re going for?
Newsom: No, it was a choice for this record. I’ve had other people sing harmonies on records in the past. But one of the sort of sci-fi notions on this record is the idea of traveling sideways through time, colonizing various iterations of the multiverse in which human life never evolved to exist in the first place, having that be a form of population control. In “Waltz of the 101st Lightborne,” there’s this sort of horror movie sting that happens at the end, where a different version of Earth evolved to develop the exact same set of technological advances and basically, an iteration of Earth occurred where all of the conditions were exactly the same, and so it’s basically a copy, and they’re coming over to colonize in reverse, and this idea of doubling, so that’s sort of the horror/sci-fi version of doubling and there’s constant references to the doubling of the self and the halving of the self, the binary of the self throughout the record, so it seems to be the most sensible move to have myself be doubled and copied over and over again, singing harmonies, rather than bringing in another person.

Paste: What are your own beliefs and theories regarding all of this? Do you think time is something that’s nonlinear? Do you believe in reincarnation? Do you believe in God?
Newsom: I know this is going to sound very quaint, but I think that’s kind of private. I put the things that I’m interested in sharing publicly in a record, but all of those questions for me, that’s actually really personal, and I probably wouldn’t go into in too much depth.

Paste: Okay then, tell me this: A lot of this record does seem to be about how time will remember you. So how do you want to be remembered? It’s a hundred years from now and somebody looks Joanna Newsom up on whatever device they use to look things up, what do you hope it will say?
Newsom: I don’t know. Obviously, I’d like for it to say something. It’s kind of distressing to trip out on the notion of nothing coming up, of just being a blank. But it’s all so abstract to think about. I’ll be long gone. I think the only thing that really matters is that my friends and family from this space of my existence hopefully remember me well and love me and if I have kids that they remember me well and love me, and whatever love I gave them translates to them being happy and healthy people and them passing love onto the next people that come after them. And that’s the best form of immortality that I think there is. Not to be too corny, but kindness and love is essentially the only real immortality. And I guess evil is immortality as well. Any time you do an evil act it has repercussions for generations. I think those sorts of basic choices—good vs. evil—are some of the only substantive ways we have of marking the future forever.

Jo will be on Late Night w/ Colbert on Dec 8th ;)

http://www.interbridge.com/lineups.html

Can't wait to see her on Colbert tonight!!

And Larry King interview:

http://la.curbed.com/archives/2014/07/4 ... estate.php

Have you guys seen these photos of J's house? Looks insane, like HOOM come to life.

I was searching for a recording of Joanna's rendition of "Beautiful Child" at the recent Fleetwood Mac tribute. I didn't find one, but did come across this . It's old, but I've posted the text of it here becoause on my old browser, the page is corrupted (overlain with something about the X-Files) and the only way to read it was to copy-and-paste. Notepad is good for that ... but so it this forum!

Although I am not familiar with many of her picks, I really enjoy readeing her comments about them, and it's inspired me to try some of them out.

And best of all - she references JOHN CALE. "Church Of Anthrax" is a remarkable record (I have it on vinyl, and I don't think it's ever been released on CD), and wouldn't it be something if she collaborated with Cale?! (I believe Terry Riley was a near-neighbour of Joanna's in Nevada City).

Culture > Music


January 15, 2015 2:53 pm by Alex Frank

Photo: Annabel Mehran

Though her trade is singing, songwriting, and playing the harp, indie music darling Joanna Newsom can currently be seen acting in Paul Thomas Anderson’s adaptation of the Thomas Pynchon novel, Inherent Vice. Playing friendly stoner Sortilège and lending her voice as the film’s narrator, Newsom’s big screen debut was a logical fit, as the movie takes place in 1970, the first year of a decade that’s long been central to her musical and cultural interests.

“I had been a fan of Pynchon for a number of years, but I’m always excited to read something that takes place in California in the seventies,” the Nevada City native says over the phone from Los Angeles. “It’s definitely my favorite decade of music.” This infatuation has led to a massive collection of vinyl (“I don’t have an iPod, I don’t have a CD player”) that takes up almost all of her Grass Valley home, and a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of music from the era. “I think of it as the singer-songwriter decade,” she says. “It’s the heyday of analogue studio recordings, before things got digital. You can still feel the hand of the creator because it doesn’t live on the computer.”

Newsom enjoyed the experience of being on set for the first time and working with the notoriously Method Joaquin Phoenix. “I didn’t feel like he was in character all the time as much as he has this tightly sprung, tightly coiled energy waiting to be activated,” she says. “I had to shake off so much crippling self-consciousness. [But] I know Paul and that helped. It made it safer for me to try things.”

Her interest in the seventies might also be the best and only clue as for what to expect from her own highly anticipated next album, the first since 2010’s Have One On Me. After we asked her to compile a list of her favorite songs from every year of the decade, she confessed, “a lot of the things I describe about these ten songs are things that are definitely at the forefront of my mind at the moment.” Below, ten of Newsom’s favorite songs from the seventies.

1970: Harry Nilsson, Nilsson Sings Newman, “Living Without You”

“One of the greatest human voices ever to be recorded performing this amazing song. One reason I picked this particular song is it’s in many ways the consummate early seventies studio record. It’s this paean to analogue recording innovation; it’s a love song to the studio. Not only did he avail himself of every bell and whistle available to a recording artist in 1970, I think he layered, at one point, something like 120 vocal performances on top of one another. The album is also a winking, tongue-in-cheek reference to the studio environment, with little off-the-cuff fragments of dialogue with the recording engineer asking for more of a particular vocal.”

1971: Roy Harper, Stormcock, “Me and My Woman”

“I have to say that 1971 nearly killed me to pick from, I’m sure that year is my favorite year in music: Karen Dalton, In My Own Time, Joni Mitchell, Blue, Terry Riley and John Cale, Church of Anthrax. [But] Stormcock might be my favorite album of all time, an incredible four-song record of epic songs that are filled with incredible innovations and arrangements and recording techniques. Harper is a very intricate guitar player, and he’s very influenced by British folk music—intricate fingerpicking stuff—and by the blues. He’s sort of hard to categorize, but this particular record has moments of baroque instrumentations, a lone trumpet, a flute, these symphonic moments, and these heavy, reverb-y, mystical moments. It’s not classifiable by genre, like most of my favorite records. A perfect sparkling jewel of a record.”

1972: Terry Callier, What Color Is Love, “What Color Is Love”

“Every time I listen to it, I discover something new about the song. It’s so detailed. It’s ambitious, but it’s so delicate and subtle and intricate and sparkling. You hear chiming bells in one spot, this sort of string swell up to your left, and this synth line snaking in and out like a skipping stone across your line of theoretical vision.

This guy, Keith Brandman at Audio Nouveau in Mendocino, made my speakers. I stumbled into his little space and he was playing some jazz record, and I wouldn’t call myself a huge fan of jazz, but I immediately had to sit down in a chair and listen to the whole record because it was the first time I understood what it sounded like to hear music on a great set of speakers. The first record I put on was Terry Callier and it was a really cornball moment of tears rolling down my face as I was like, Oh God, I hear everything! I hear it all!”

1973: Judee Sill, Heart Food, “The Donor”

“A criminally underappreciated songwriter; slightly New Age, Christian, occultist, bisexual, and the first artist ever assigned to Asylum Records, [David] Geffen’s label. She was a genius orchestrator, genius arranger, who sadly died much too young from a drug addiction. This song is an anomalous track for her, but I chose it because it has this almost ecstatic use of the recording studio to produce something sonically massive and epic. The song feels almost like a hymn. She was really influenced by Bach fugues and I think it’s really evident in the song with the elaborate choral arrangement.

It’s really hard to do your own orchestration. I don’t do it. There’s a whole set of purely technical things you have to master before you can even limp along. And on top of that, you have to have this gift for hearing multiple parts in your head. I hear chords and melodies in my head, not necessarily counterpoint. That’s why I collaborate, but Judee Sill, not her.”

1974: Jimmy Webb, Land’s End, “Land’s End/Asleep on the Wind”

“I love Jimmy Webb, and this is a great orchestral pop song. Sweeping, cinematic, and as unapologetically sentimental as only Jimmy Webb can be. There’s a full choir, sound effects, dramatic key changes, and this rad heavy drum part. If you happen to ever find yourself feeling a little drunk at home after a nice dinner with your friends and you’re by yourself still feeling kind of drunk, just a little word to the wise, this one turns out to be a really fun one to sing along to at the top of your lungs while stepping on couch cushions.”

1975: Mickey Newbury, Lovers, “Let Me Sleep”

“One of the greatest songwriters of all time. I’ve always wanted to cover this song. It starts with this gorgeous, symphonic string section and that yields the space to this really intimate piano performance. There’s this piano that’s front and center for a moment and then this harmonically unrelated guitar line sort of plods down the center like a puppy weaving muddy footprints down the middle of the song. You can feel the piano retreating step for step, as the guitar becomes the lead. It’s this odd moment. And then the drum kicks in, and strings come back with this poppy feel, and we’re listening to just another Mickey Newbury country classic. Then, it drops out into this wild toothy incongruous drum solo that goes on for a while and everything starts expanding outward into space. We start hearing these high lonesome vocals and these snyths floating in and out. It spreads out and out and out until the instrumental particles get so far from each other that the song is over. And that’s how it ends: It spreads out until it diffuses into nothing.”

1976: Gentle Giant, Interview, “I Lost My Head”

“No self-respecting seventies playlist could stand without at least one prog song. If you’re not partial to the genre, I recommend you watch the video. I’m going to go ahead and say that they might be the best-dressed band of all time. I think the drummer in head-to-toe Oakland A’s gear might win, but I also think there’s a dude that has pantaloons tucked into really high knee-high socks and maybe Birkenstocks? This song is amazing. It’s full of Baroque early music references, there’s a recorder, a synth harpsichord, amazing early music stuff that’s all played with the compulsory thrilling virtuosity of any self-respecting prog band. And then it evolves halfway through the song into this just massive heavy synth rock epic. Give it a chance.”

1977: Junior Murvin, Police and Thieves, “Roots Train”

“He’s got this beautiful super-vibrato that is so special, and with this track, it’s nestled into this elastic backing track played by the Upsetters. Lee “Scratch” Perry produced it, which is amazing. It has his trademark spatial pliability. The song expands and contracts along with the groove, so it feels like a living, breathing creature. It physically forces you to move, like a tidal wave, it pulls you in and pushes you out. And it’s so connected to Lee “Scratch” Perry’s production, which I want to say is ahead of its time, but I don’t think we ever caught up.”

1978: Richard and Linda Thompson, First Light, “First Light”

“It’s not Richard and Linda’s most famous record. It wasn’t a hit at all, but it’s probably my favorite of their albums. Richard almost always pulls from this British and Celtic folk background and plays guitar like nobody else. In spite of the exuberance of the instrumentation on the song, there is an underlying spirit that feels kind of sad and heavy, the gorgeous side of resignation and acceptance. It feels so mature in a way. One of the reasons that I picked it is it connects to some of the stuff in Inherent Vice, like a loss of innocence. It’s a spiritual record, religious, not about earthly things, but a relationship with God. Linda Thompson’s voice is one of my favorites.”

1979: Fleetwood Mac, Tusk, “Beautiful Child”

“I can’t listen to this song without crying so I don’t listen to it often. But there isn’t a more beautiful or appropriate song to play us out of the seventies. There’s a sense of loss and saying goodbye, but it’s a sparse and restrained culmination of the studio techniques honed throughout the decade, many of which broke ground on Rumours, the seminal seventies record. “Beautiful Child” takes all they learned about vocal overdubs and harmonies, and applies those techniques in the most light-handed way that is just so heartbreakingly beautiful. Despite the lushness, the vocal harmonies still manage to convey a deep loneliness, and it sounds to me like every vocal performance in the mix was performed in isolation. Every player and singer on the song sounds like they were standing a mile a part, like the drums were played across the freeway, the piano recorded with the lights off.”

a short clip of the performance

Joanna Newsom - Beautiful Child - Fleetwood Mac Fest
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SOvAfms ... freload=10

I just found this - an unedited, (unpublished?) interview from 2006, talking about "Ys". Rather bad camera/sound, but it's new to me:

Thank you for finding the clip, Wanbli

from Fleetwood Mac Fest

That's a super picture.
It ain't about how rare you are, but how hard you are to see, and from what I've read, Joanna was pretty hard to see at the Fleetwood Mac Fest, hidden a way at the back.
Does anyone detect Joanna taking part in any of the communal songs that bookended this show?

Has this been posted yet? It sounds like the exact same audio as the studio version with all accompaniment removed - it's amazing how full and beautiful it still sounds with just the harp and piano!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7uzq5KKIlo4

Hi that's an interesting piece BeeJWeez!

I've often thought that Joanna does something odd with her timing, especially her vocals. I'm not musically trained, so I can't quite put my finger on what it is, but to me it sounds as though she sometimes hurries into singing a line before the music is quite 'ready' for her, and also occasionally delays starting a line for a fraction of a second. One extreme and atypical example might be on "It ain't about how rare you are" from Anecdotes, where she somehow creates time to sing the initial "It" twice!

In many performers, I find this trait incredibly annoying. I think "'If you [the singer] are bored with how this song is supposed to sound, then how do you expect me to like it?". (Listen to Frank Sinatra for some truly awful examples of how to mangle a passable song with poor timing and flat voice... but not for too long: it'll hurt your ears).

I have no idea how Joanna turns it from an annoyance to an alluring attribute. She seems to do it a little more on stage than in her studio recordings, but I feel there are more instances of it on HOOM and Divers than on her first two albums. I suspect it is part of what makes some of her songs harder to grasp / warm to on the first listen, but also what keeps them fresh and mysterious and essential once they become more familiar.

Listening to the piano version from the above post perhaps highlights this particular facet of her genius. The transcription is enjoyable, and at times insightful as different layers of the instrumental melody come to the fore where they may be obscured by the vocal in the original (although in a few places I did find them a bit jarring). But I think a major difference between the piano version and Joanna's original is that whereas Joanna plays about with her timings as described above, the pianist performs with a very strict metre (or so it seems to me) and this makes that version seem rather leaden to me.

Still an enjoyable and thought I provoking listen, though, so thank you for posting it.

My apologies - I shouldn't have mentioned such a truly awful performer on a forum dedicated to the musical art.

According to this, it looks like Joanna is going to be on Late Night with Seth Meyers next Wednesday! I hope this is accurate! If so, I wonder what she'll play.



Wednesday, March 16: Guests John Goodman, Joanna Newsom and musical guest Joanna Newsom. Matt Cameron sits-in with the 8G Band. Show 0341.