September 14, 2004

Devendra Banhart

Now every one put down your plastic toys, the ones with digital displays and rubber and/or silicone bits. With their ‘predicted by some’ propensity to kill you - if you hold them against your head for too long or use them while driving - or riding your bike to Radio Shack to get a pack of new lithium cells for that toy you can’t do without. Yes, put down those toys and feel the wood. Feel it vibrating as (I mean the grain of the wood), vibrating as (I mean the grain of the wooden top guitar), vibrating as nimble fingers snap and slash against taut steel strings. This is calming. This is calm.

This is, or can be, Devendra Banhart. He does at times put you on edge with his at once soft and gentle, the next moment, eerie and disturbing, voice - a voice delivering tales sprouting from a new millennium psych folkie mind fertilized by the environments of South America, Texas, and California.

Just an all around 21st century jet setting, sandal wearing, dipped in cathode rays (as we all are), dyed-in-the-llama-wool, original. Sharing the offbeat spurts and sparks from his wood nymph mind.

+ will is my friend
+ the body breaks
+ fall
+ at the hop (from nino rojo)
+ autumn's child
+ this is the way
+ this beard is for siobhan
+ rejoicing in the hands

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