I was listening to Tarkio the other day. I haven't done that for a while. They're not bad; not great, either, but a solid country/folk effort. I listen to it for the same reason I (unashamedly) watch "Mean Girls" every time it's on TV: it contains the seeds of the later project. Tarkio contains the seeds of Meloy's future preoccupations as leader of the Decemberists. We get the lit references - Camus, Tristan and Iseult - and the interest in folk balladry. Tarkio isn't quite as lyrically courageous, to borrow a phrase from some reviewer, I forget who (sorry unknown soldier). Meloy's lyrics aren't quite as strong in Tarkio, and so tend to sink below the music - but then, the music isn't quite strong or unique enough to stand on its own. Nothing terribly special. Most are over-long, and after a while tend to blend together. There are flashes of brilliance (and I mean that in the shining, sparkly visual sense). My personal favorite is "Neapolitan Bridesmaid." It's definitely not required listening for any who's not a Decemberists nut. Since I have the misfortune to part of that strange sub-species of human, well...

There's a joy in rediscovering music, gaining enough space that the familiarity is lost and the possibility of newness is regained. That's how it felt to listen to Tarkio. It had been long enough that I had forgotten. The violins thrilled again. The nuisance felt was minimized, not maximized through over familiarity.

I felt that way about a few things lately. Sufjan Stevens, seeing a snatch of his lyrics quoted out of context. The Mountain Goats, hearing one of their songs on "Weeds." I love it.