Joan Of Arc
Look. I’m not here to explain their appeal. Joan Of Arc is one of those bands that’ll bowl you over, or make you think that you’re listening to the most godawful, wanky pretentious shit on the planet. I’m firmly footed in the first camp. There’s got to be something said for obtuse lyricism, asymmetrical drumming, and gentle, sonorous textures. Some people really like e.e. cummings, and some people don’t like him, too.
Joan Of Arc are all of those uncomfortable moments with drunk friends doing horribly stupid things at parties that everyone but you is going to laugh at later. Joan Of Arc is riding around in toy stores on those little scooter things and getting funny looks from cashiers. It’s driving home from Orlando at 4 AM and trying very hard to keep your friend awake so that he’ll keep you awake. It’s “the glad acts gone proud, the proud acts growing stubborn; the panting the trembling towards a being gone, a being to come; and the true true no longer, and the false true not yet. And to decide not to smile after all, sitting in the shade, hearing the cicadas, wishing it were night, wishing it were morning. Then the gnashing ends, or it goes on…”(Samuel Beckett, Watt). It’s ambiguity and hopefulness and apple pie and sleepy afternoons.
Dammit! They’re the bee’s knees, and that’s the last I’ll have to say about that.
Jade Tree, 2310 Kennwynn Rd., Wilmington, DE 19810; http://www.jadetree.com