With 1975’s The Hissing of Summer Lawns, Joni Mitchell entered her so-called jazz phase, a five-year period that saw her arrangements expand to incorporate jazzier harmonic possibilities, wider sonic landscapes, and worldly rhythms. Jazz luminaries like virtuoso bassist Jaco Pastorius and guitarist Pat Metheny popped up on records, record sales declined, and genre experiments like the side-long “Paprika Plains” unexpectedly channeled the same commitment that Mitchell’s folk songs inhabited. (There was also that unfortunate blackface on the cover Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter.)
This era of records is how I got into Joni Mitchell. As I dug back through the late 60s folk records and into the really lovely, orchestral 2000s output, I found that despite setting changes, one thing stayed true throughout Mitchell’s songwriting — her storytelling ability. I must admit that my own lyrical history, while sometimes vivid, is often fractured — can I blame Gastr Del Sol for that?
So, with Destruction, Host Skull’s third record, I set out to create a very solid body of lyrics, lyrics that told, in some fashion, a story. “A Novel Called ‘The Bargain’” is a retrospective of sorts, reaching back to a childhood.
I was shorter then, working on a novel called “The Bargain,” kicking a soft pail then taking a full run.
The goal was to take very small details and make them vivid. Low word count — thinking less was more. Again, thoughts about religion peak through.
Back when God was part of a series, god behind god behind god on top of a match book.
The first verse has two parts: 1) allusion to the past and past actions and 2) clarification of time, a time when my perception of religion was represented by avatars — Christ, Buddha, Krishna — no doubt gathered from looking through encyclopedias.
The third verse, which happens after the instrumental chorus attributes supernatural powers to religious figureheads, but more specifically, the verse attributes powers to their human-made plastic manifestations.
Figurines raising figures from the dead, making life for those families much brighter.
Lyrically, the song ends with a direct reference to Joni Mitchell and her song, “God Must Be A Boogie Man,” written days after Charles Mingus’ death.
Musically, this song is very simple, hanging on a few open-voiced chords, allowing room for the vocals to breathe, removing distractions so the listener can focus on the words. The chorus is a little gnarly — I frequently forget how to play it live — but it feels smooth on the recording. Transcription below.
For the recording, we kept it very simple. Will Dyar plays essentially the same drum pattern for the entirety of the song. An acoustic guitar doubles the basic track electric guitar. Bass sticks to the downbeats. In order to avoid boredom, a few harmonized guitar lines were overdubbed and backing vocals cluster in select sections. This song is meant to be understated.
Also, can you all buy this damn record already?
