Let England Shake

Each of PJ Harvey's albums is nothing short of brilliant.

I'm a dyed-in-the-wool loyalist to Artists I connect with on a deep level; if I don't get an album immediately, it is my job to sit with it and learn to hear what it has to say. Unlike some Harvey albums, it's obvious from the start that Let England Shake is something special, and it's exhilarating that every listen continues to astound and deepen my appreciation for this masterpiece.

This a complicated album. Among it's themes are life and death, distance and proximity, the destructive forces of man and nature, loyalty and self-preservation, and the nature of time. Joy and tragedy are present on an album that is both immediate and universal, and features the most concrete images Harvey has ever written.

Sticking to the sonic realm, one of the first things that hits the ear with this album is the dissonance, the slightly off-kilter quality of many of the tracks. Sometimes it's the high vocal against warm guitar chords, sometimes an underlying track (trumpet on "The Glorious Land," a woman's vocal on "England") juxtaposed with the main track, or just the collective din of chimy, scratchy, jangly, and fuzzy instruments ("Let England Shake" is a great example). This makes the moments of pure melody, a bass line, a harmony, all the more moving (the bass line on "The Last Living Rose," a simple piano line in "On Battleship Hill," just kill me).

In this bed of occasional cacophony, pinpoints of dazzling beauty, and sporadic, irresistible sing-a-longs, are tucked lyrics of deceptive complexity. The simply worded and emotionally evocative song, "The Colour of the Earth," captures a heartache, a powerlessness, that the music itself doesn't allow to resolve.

Louis was my dearest friend
fighting in the ANZAC trench.
Louis ran forward from the line,
I never saw him again.

Later in the dark
I thought I heard Louis' voice
calling for his Mother, then me,
but I couldn't get to him.

He's still up on that hill.
20 years on that hill.
Nothing more than a pile of bones,
But I think of him still.

If I was asked I'd tell
the colour of the earth that day;
it was dull and browny-red
"the colour of blood" I'd say.

It's no secret that PJ Harvey grew up in the country, amidst animals, and there's not one song on this album that doesn't mention nature or death. While many city dwellers (myself included) can spend years pretending that death and decay aren't all around (as well as in bellies and guts), it just can't be done on a farm. It's not surprising then-- in addition to the psychological and spiritual aspects-- that Harvey is comfortable exploring the physical landscape of death and war.

The scent of Thyme carried on the wind.

Jagged mountains, jutting out,

cracked like teeth in a rotten mouth.

-"On Battleship Hill"

Bitter branches spreading out.

There is none more bitter than the wood.

Into the white world it grows,

twisting its roots, a swarm of bees,

twisting under soldier's feet.

-"Bitter Branches"

I have seen and done things I want to forget;

soldiers fell like lumps of meat,

blown and shot out beyond belief.

Arms and legs were in the trees.

-"The Words that Maketh Murder"

What Harvey so powerfully conveys is the absolute matter-of-factness of violence, the shock of it, and that it somehow means everything and nothing at the same time. Life continues as it has always done, and this violence is a part of it.





Harvey's lyrics steer the minds' eye like a film director. The pointedness of her gaze, the imagery she uses, would be auteur-like if Harvey hadn't done such a fabulous job of finding the voice of the characters. (Her mastery will come as a surprise to those who've assumed that she is exactly like all the characters she's sung before.)





Another intriguing aspect of Let England Shake is the use of birds as the central visual theme. Not only does the cover of the album feature a flock of birds (they look like seagulls) flying haphazardly, her outfits for this album incorporate feathers.



















From what I can tell, seagulls (as they are used in the British Isles) are meant to represent freedom (as opposed to the raven or blackbird which represents death). On this album, birds are described as being silenced.

...the birds are silent in the branches

-"Let England Shake"

There are no birds singing

the 'White Cliffs of Dover'

-"Hanging in the Wire"

Freedom, or innocence has been put to death. (Psst- is possible that the germ of this idea started as "Untitled (Seagulls)" from Uh Huh Her?) This isn't surprising in the landscape of war, that England finds itself without innocence, right down to the children:

And what is the glorious fruit of our land?

Its fruit is deformed children.

And what is the glorious fruit of our land?

Its fruit is orphaned children.

-"The Glorious Land"

One of the most amazing things about Let England Shake is that amidst the vivid images of death, decay, and brutal reality, there is a real desire for joy, a sense of tenderness in the lyrics and music.

Let me watch the night fall on the river,

the moon rise up and turn to silver,

the sky move,

the ocean shimmer,

the hedge shake,

the last living rose quiver.

-"The Last Living Rose"

In the immediacy of grief there is warmth, in helplessness connection. These songs of Harvey's homeland could be the songs of my homeland. There can be no sorrow without love. It takes an artist of the highest order to fully realize these tensions.