{"id":1338,"date":"2011-11-30T12:17:56","date_gmt":"2011-11-30T20:17:56","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/billchapin.net\/allthecitylights\/?p=1338"},"modified":"2015-01-12T09:31:51","modified_gmt":"2015-01-12T17:31:51","slug":"the-annotated-decemberists-no-7-leslie-anne-levine","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/billchapin.net\/allthecitylights\/2011\/11\/the-annotated-decemberists-no-7-leslie-anne-levine\/","title":{"rendered":"The Annotated Decemberists No. 7: “Leslie Anne Levine”"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>Perhaps no band\u2019s lyrics better lend themselves to pseudo-academic analysis than those of The Decemberists.\u00a0The Annotated Decemberists<\/a>\u00a0is an attempt to puzzle through the Portland, Oregon, group\u2019s entire catalog song by song\u2014examining all the obscure vocabulary, historical references and poetic subtext\u2014or go crazy trying.<\/em><\/p>\n

We begin our foray into The Decemberists’ first album proper with a ghoooost story!<\/p>\n

Colin Meloy’s fondness for the macabre was only hinted at on the 5 Songs<\/em> EP (with “Oceanside<\/a>” perhaps containing a rather subtle Edgar Allen Poe reference). Here it is unleashed in full, with a dash of dark whimsey that surely owes a debt to Edward Gorey<\/a>. The song tells of the specter of a premature baby. Fifteen years after her death, she shows enough maturity to narrate her own sad tale, yet she remains an infant, clinging to her (dead) mother and shaking a rattle … made of bone!<\/em> Spoooooky, right? Don’t worry. A shuffling drumbeat and some affable accordion solos keep things from getting too frightening.<\/p>\n

“Leslie Anne Levine”<\/strong>
\nfrom Castaways and Cutouts,<\/em> 2002<\/p>\n