Mississippi Kite

I know I just played this song yesterday, but all I can remember is hearing it pour out of the speakers. I guess because I didn’t stop to think before jumping in. All I had to refer to was a seriously scary piece of notebook paper with Sharpie scribbles all over it.

I fished this out of my bag on the flight back to the U.S. from the Edinburgh Fringe festival, dizzy with the flu, and added fuzzy production notes on top of lyrics on top of chords on top of sheet music on top of rhythm and structural changes. By the time we landed in Newark, it was a mess (Rob Ahlers calls my song notebook “an ugly mind”).

So when Rizzo pressed “record” yesterday, I squinted at my notebook, then just started putting stuff down. I could have fucked this song up real bad.

Mississippi Kite just goes, though; I couldn’t really get it in its way. It’s driven by the lyrics, which is something I rarely say about a song. They’re hot and bothered, as usual, but also woozy: this day as a dream.

Those lyrics got happy over the rhythm section and then I could do no wrong on top, adding some rather delicate overdubs and then stepping out of the way.

A happy feel can still make a sad song, though. Mississippi Kite talks and lists and spits and talks some more, never really shuts up, but ends up only telling you that something’s missing.

Love,
Kristin

By the way, if you haven’t poked around CASH Music in a while, do it—it’s worth your time, I swear. Lots of growth and grooviness and it’s all beautiful. These are still early days for CASH, but very exciting ones.