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deadbydawnofthedead:

This may be one of the best things you hear in your life.

I love this so much!!!!

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visnjama:

Reeling/ Pj Harvey

Even Aphrodite she’s got nothing on me

reeling

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dreammason:

“Powdered Wig Machine” The Desert Sessions with PJ Harvey  

Desert Sessions 9&10

I wish Josh would put another of these out. Where’s 11&12, Josh?

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electrosnap-ete:

PJ HARVEY - LET ENGLAND SHAKE

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joeymcchipmunk:

pj harvey - hanging in the wire

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dyingfiction:

PJ Harvey | My Beautiful Leah

She was always so needing
said “I have no-one”
even as I held her
She went out looking for someone
Looking for someone

She only had nightmares
and her sadness never lifted
and slowly over the years
her lovely face twisted

Did she come around here, Sir?
I swear you would remember
black hair, brown eyes
late September
October, November, December

It never leaves my mind
the last words she said
“If I don’t find it this time
then I’m better off dead.”

Is This Desire? was an album that I found in high school after hearing Angelene playing on one of maybe twenty cable channels we had at the time that played songs all day with a black screen, no DJ, no song information, artist, title, nothing. I was so taken with it that I managed to figure out who it was by searching for bits of lyrics on the internet back when it was still a revelation that there was this vast repository of information just floating around like this. I only knew of PJ Harvey before this as the wonderfully strange woman in that color-saturated video singing whispering big fish little fish swimming in the water come back here man give me my daughter. I scribbled down a few lines from this song I’d fallen in love with on a sheet of paper, looked it up at school on the slowest connection imaginable in a class that, as far as I can remember, was just a place for thirty kids to sit in a room with a wall of windows looking out onto the sunny parking lot, writing notes, telling jokes, reading magazines, making plans, leaving to pick up fast food, coming back with bags full of burgers and burritos, and always a large Diet Coke for the teacher who would smile the warmest smile and thank you in that way that someone thanks you when they ask a stranger for a cigarette and they actually give them one, a woman whose daughter I’d had classes with since the fifth grade, blonde-haired blue-eyed stuck-up miss popular with a mother who was so unbelievably unlike her aside from looking like an older, kinder, brunette version of her.

I had a tendency to come and go at random by then and left right after to go find this CD which I kept on repeat for days running into weeks, months, falling asleep to it, blaring it into fuzz from cheap car speakers. My first priority in high school was to get a car which didn’t take long, broke as we were, given my mother’s ability to inspire gifts of money, food, the roof over our head and, most especially, cars. My first three cars were all cars she convinced other people to give her or buy for her and I remember driving like a maniac, driving into trees and over curbs, doing ninety-five on the freeway, rarely showing up to class before noon and then just showing up only to leave an hour or two later, staying long enough to say hello to the few teachers I loved, to pass notes to my friends, to deliver ten-page letters to boys I had crushes on, to take long, guarded glances at the girls I had crushes on, and so on. I spent the better part of a year driving a friend to see her girlfriend, first at the hospital after she’d given birth, then, later, to her home while her husband was at work, tucked away in a room with a computer sitting in chat rooms talking to predatory men pretending not to hear them as they had sex in the shower, in the bedroom while her baby lay in a crib in the living room sleeping or crying, the fear that the husband might appear and all hell would break loose forever hanging over all of us but he never did and so it went, on and on and on.

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dyingfiction:

PJ Harvey | My Beautiful Leah

She was always so needing
said “I have no-one”
even as I held her
She went out looking for someone
Looking for someone

She only had nightmares
and her sadness never lifted
and slowly over the years
her lovely face twisted

Did she come around here, Sir?
I swear you would remember
black hair, brown eyes
late September
October, November, December

It never leaves my mind
the last words she said
“If I don’t find it this time
then I’m better off dead.”

Is This Desire? was an album that I found in high school after hearing Angelene playing on one of maybe twenty cable channels we had at the time that played songs all day with a black screen, no DJ, no song information, artist, title, nothing. I was so taken with it that I managed to figure out who it was by searching for bits of lyrics on the internet back when it was still a revelation that there was this vast repository of information just floating around like this. I only knew of PJ Harvey before this as the wonderfully strange woman in that color-saturated video singing whispering big fish little fish swimming in the water come back here man give me my daughter. I scribbled down a few lines from this song I’d fallen in love with on a sheet of paper, looked it up at school on the slowest connection imaginable in a class that, as far as I can remember, was just a place for thirty kids to sit in a room with a wall of windows looking out onto the sunny parking lot, writing notes, telling jokes, reading magazines, making plans, leaving to pick up fast food, coming back with bags full of burgers and burritos, and always a large Diet Coke for the teacher who would smile the warmest smile and thank you in that way that someone thanks you when they ask a stranger for a cigarette and they actually give them one, a woman whose daughter I’d had classes with since the fifth grade, blonde-haired blue-eyed stuck-up miss popular with a mother who was so unbelievably unlike her aside from looking like an older, kinder, brunette version of her.

I had a tendency to come and go at random by then and left right after to go find this CD which I kept on repeat for days running into weeks, months, falling asleep to it, blaring it into fuzz from cheap car speakers. My first priority in high school was to get a car which didn’t take long, broke as we were, given my mother’s ability to inspire gifts of money, food, the roof over our head and, most especially, cars. My first three cars were all cars she convinced other people to give her or buy for her and I remember driving like a maniac, driving into trees and over curbs, doing ninety-five on the freeway, rarely showing up to class before noon and then just showing up only to leave an hour or two later, staying long enough to say hello to the few teachers I loved, to pass notes to my friends, to deliver ten-page letters to boys I had crushes on, to take long, guarded glances at the girls I had crushes on, and so on. I spent the better part of a year driving a friend to see her girlfriend, first at the hospital after she’d given birth, then, later, to her home while her husband was at work, tucked away in a room with a computer sitting in chat rooms talking to predatory men pretending not to hear them as they had sex in the shower, in the bedroom while her baby lay in a crib in the living room sleeping or crying, the fear that the husband might appear and all hell would break loose forever hanging over all of us but he never did and so it went, on and on and on.

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thetastynugget:

I’m in a little Pj Harvey mood, so today this shall be the tasty nugget of the day!

Song: The Words That Maketh Murder

THESE THESE THESE ARE THE WORDS

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deartsign:

PJ Harvey - I Think I’m a Mother

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ushouldvecomeover:

John Parish and Polly Jean Harvey | Rope Bridge Crossing