Album Review: Josh Ritter's "The Animal Years"
by Elizabeth Brutsch
![Picture](/uploads/6/2/5/2/6252344/7953699.jpg?386)
Mp3 Album: $8.99; Deluxe edition CD:
$13.75 (both via Amazon.com); Vinyl LP with bonus CD: $15.00 (JoshRitter.com)
Josh Ritter’s fourth album The Animal Years, which comments on the devastation of war, was re-issued last month. When it was originally released in early 2006, the nation was in a state of internal upheaval over wars in the Middle East. In the half-decade since the album’s initial release, much of the nation’s attention has shifted to matters at home. Still, the songs on The Animal Years serve as both a powerful indictment against the devastation of war, and a rallying cry to recognize and preserve the beauty and value of life.
“Girl in the War,” the first of the album’s eleven tracks, follows a dialogue between the apostles Peter and Paul. In it, they try to make sense of the alienation, uncertainty, and fear inherent in conflict. Despite Paul’s theological rhetoric in favor of the war, Peter feels cut off from his faith, stating that “the keys to the Kingdom got lost inside the Kingdom / And the angels fly around in there, but we can’t see them.” Compounding his isolation is his complete powerlessness to help the girl he loves, a soldier with eyes “like champagne.”
Ritter’s decision to feature a female soldier subverts the masculine stereotypes of war and draws attention to the vulnerability of those sent to fight in battle. Peter’s yearning for her safety is one he will never be able to guarantee. She is at the mercy not only of those against whom she is fighting, but also of the authorities who sent her to war in the first place. Anguish takes its shape as anger against those in power, both political and divine, in Peter’s rebuke: “If they can’t find a way to help her they can go to Hell.”
Ritter’s most eloquent argument against war is in the album’s penultimate song, “Thin Blue Flame.” In just under ten minutes, the song paints a haunting portrait of the tragedies, both societal and personal, that are intrinsically bound up in war. Presented as a dream, the song describes the physical and spiritual defeat that war inflicts on its victims. Sparse instrumentation underscores the lyrics, which are half-sung and half-spoken. The musical minimalism ensures that the words carry the greatest possible impact:
I saw Royal City far below
Borders soft with refugees
Streets a’ swimming with amputees
It’s a Bible or a bullet they put over your heart…
Beating hearts blossom into walking bombs
And those still looking in the clear blue sky for a sign
Get missiles from so high they might as well be divine.
The scenes portrayed are familiar; the news has made them commonplace. However, Ritter’s lyrics close the distance afforded by the impersonal reports of television and newspapers. The poetic angle to the subject grants it a visceral immediacy, and his evocative imagery lingers long after the song has ended.
In the final verse of the song, he returns to comfort in the peaceful familiarity of his hometown and the people in it. Here, with his “friends laughing out across the fields / The girls in the gloaming and the birds on the wheel,” is the antithesis of war’s turmoil. While there is so much pain in the world, he recognizes the need not to lose sight of the good. After listening, what remains is a sense that all is not lost, combined with an urgency to appreciate the life experience in all its beauty and fragility. In a sense, this is the most powerful of Ritter’s arguments for peace. Destructive by design, conflict affects each area of its victim’s lives, robbing them of the chance at a normal life.
Josh Ritter’s fourth album The Animal Years, which comments on the devastation of war, was re-issued last month. When it was originally released in early 2006, the nation was in a state of internal upheaval over wars in the Middle East. In the half-decade since the album’s initial release, much of the nation’s attention has shifted to matters at home. Still, the songs on The Animal Years serve as both a powerful indictment against the devastation of war, and a rallying cry to recognize and preserve the beauty and value of life.
“Girl in the War,” the first of the album’s eleven tracks, follows a dialogue between the apostles Peter and Paul. In it, they try to make sense of the alienation, uncertainty, and fear inherent in conflict. Despite Paul’s theological rhetoric in favor of the war, Peter feels cut off from his faith, stating that “the keys to the Kingdom got lost inside the Kingdom / And the angels fly around in there, but we can’t see them.” Compounding his isolation is his complete powerlessness to help the girl he loves, a soldier with eyes “like champagne.”
Ritter’s decision to feature a female soldier subverts the masculine stereotypes of war and draws attention to the vulnerability of those sent to fight in battle. Peter’s yearning for her safety is one he will never be able to guarantee. She is at the mercy not only of those against whom she is fighting, but also of the authorities who sent her to war in the first place. Anguish takes its shape as anger against those in power, both political and divine, in Peter’s rebuke: “If they can’t find a way to help her they can go to Hell.”
Ritter’s most eloquent argument against war is in the album’s penultimate song, “Thin Blue Flame.” In just under ten minutes, the song paints a haunting portrait of the tragedies, both societal and personal, that are intrinsically bound up in war. Presented as a dream, the song describes the physical and spiritual defeat that war inflicts on its victims. Sparse instrumentation underscores the lyrics, which are half-sung and half-spoken. The musical minimalism ensures that the words carry the greatest possible impact:
I saw Royal City far below
Borders soft with refugees
Streets a’ swimming with amputees
It’s a Bible or a bullet they put over your heart…
Beating hearts blossom into walking bombs
And those still looking in the clear blue sky for a sign
Get missiles from so high they might as well be divine.
The scenes portrayed are familiar; the news has made them commonplace. However, Ritter’s lyrics close the distance afforded by the impersonal reports of television and newspapers. The poetic angle to the subject grants it a visceral immediacy, and his evocative imagery lingers long after the song has ended.
In the final verse of the song, he returns to comfort in the peaceful familiarity of his hometown and the people in it. Here, with his “friends laughing out across the fields / The girls in the gloaming and the birds on the wheel,” is the antithesis of war’s turmoil. While there is so much pain in the world, he recognizes the need not to lose sight of the good. After listening, what remains is a sense that all is not lost, combined with an urgency to appreciate the life experience in all its beauty and fragility. In a sense, this is the most powerful of Ritter’s arguments for peace. Destructive by design, conflict affects each area of its victim’s lives, robbing them of the chance at a normal life.
Elizabeth
Brutsch is studying psychology at BYU-Idaho. She loves Oregon and drawing with colored pencils, and will
read anything she can get her hands on.
She worries a lot.