Poseidon and the Bitter Bug - Indigo Girls
This album is the second-most-recent from the Indigo Girls, having been released before Beauty Queen Sister. I bought it simply because I got an automated email from a retailer recommending it based on my previous purchases, and by then I was ready to buy anything with the duo's name on it.
In terms of total number of songs, it's one of the shortest if not the shortest album of theirs, but contains a second disk where every song has an accoustic version, plus a bonus extra song. This provides an interesting opportunity to compare the two styles - accoustic and with full band backing - as they're handled by this particular group. After much consideration, I'm convinced there's not much in the way of meaningful distinction between the two styles, and I can't help but feel that one of the discs is actually an unnecessary redundancy. The Indigo Girls simply don't rely heavily enough on orchestration or electronic elements to make a stripped-down acoustic disc all that novel. It's nice to have, though, and for a few of the songs the two versions are quite different indeed.
One of those songs is True Romantic, the band version of which is one of my favorites. I have decided that I could listen to Amy Ray sing angsty love songs all day and be quite happy: songs like this one and, from other albums, Keeper of My Heart, Romeo and Juliet, and Blood and Fire. The band version of True Romantic is delightfully urgent and intense, conveying commitment in the face of uncertainty: "remember what I told you / when the night was darkest /you can leave me all you need to / baby, I'm here to stay." But the acoustic version is much more sedate and almost fatalistic, which I think undermines much of the song's power.
Another song I find especially powerful (and moreso as time goes by) is Ghost of the Gang, which makes me think of Jim, Bill, Dulcy, Liz, Ashley, Rob... Heck, even Wally. Friends and friends of friends, passing acquaintences and family. The song is about remembering old friends who've died, especially after years have passed, and never fails to get me choked up, especially the long and turbulent bridge portion.
Many of the songs, even the more cheerful ones, have an edge of bitterness, like the two referred to in the album title. Fleet of Hope is full of references to the dark side of hope: "Out in the choppier waters the sharks swim and play / you're all washed up when Poseidon has his day." Second Time Around is even less upbeat, to the point of near apathy: "Got bitten by the bitter bug and I just can't get enough/ Ill will and my own conceit, I'm weary of the world it seems." But it's the kind of bitterness that's gentle and accepting - that takes the good with the bad without ignoring either.
Maybe that's why I associate this album with aging, and even see that as a theme running through all the songs in it. At 27 I'm hardly elderly, but have lived enough to have a share of loss, regret, and bitterness... and to heal from it, learn from it, and move on. In doing so I feel I've had a glimpse of what aging really means. And I see that in this album.
Next: Nomads Indians Saints
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