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In March, Kristin Hersh unveiled the sprawling dirge "Sundial." Now, the Throwing Muses/50 Foot Wave leader is announcing a new solo record titled Sugar On Blackstone to follow 2023's Clear Pond Road. The new single "Dark-Eyed Junco" is out today.
"Dark-Eyed Junco" meditates on childhood with her brother. "He was a 'Dark-Eyed Junco,' and I was a light-eyed weirdo," she explains. "We'd play basketball until after dark then, when we couldn't even see the hoop anymore, so that we didn’t have to go home. After our stepfather moved in, it wasn’t a home anymore."
Sugar On Blackstone was recorded at Stable Sound Studios earlier this year with her 50 Foot Wave bandmate Rob Ahlers on drums and fellow Throwing Muses member Pete Harvey on cello. About the album, Hersh says:
Here in Providence, we say, “The rich folks live on Power Street, but most of us live off Hope.” Last year, I found myself living on Hope Street for the third time, which is the charm one, right? I still travelled the country and the world, as I do — the "101 Run" that is my work and my life — racing down highways and swimming with stingrays during the California wildfires at a "Silver Beach," but always coming back to the "72 Stingrays" racing past the park across the street from my city sun-drenched then buried-in-snow Providence apartment. The park where I watched the '70s full-on come back through my window as I wrote these songs.
In Providence, when Hope’s harmless "Snow White Lies" fall away and we can’t believe in anything anymore, we pace Blackstone across the park; a long empty strip of path, like a ship of lost souls. Last summer, a friend who was like a brother to me was shot and killed nearby. His "Ticking" ticker stopped, no more time to measure with heartbeats, after only 38 years; his restless spirit riddled with holes like his poor body. I don’t like to see spirits this way, nobody does; it was all so dark. One morning, I helped dress his children for their dad’s funeral. Sometimes Hope doesn’t help. I paced and paced Blackstone with the other lost souls, with the ghost of my dear gone brother.
"Moths" don’t necessarily burn when they seek light, though. And we’re still alive, and Dom seeing through his children’s eyes. Is that Hope? I don’t know. All I know is that he was soon bathed in orange and glowing as he always had. "Dom In Orange" came singing through the park and into the window that day as the sun set in a brilliant deep red-orange. And then all us ladies in our "Pink Nightgowns," regrouping under porchlights up and down Hope; half-lit, light and shadow balancing and fighting, each of us our own "Sundial." Music playing in the trees, where it always has.
When I moved back to our hometown, my brother asked me to figure out why we got kicked out of it, why we had no home. And yeah, I don’t know, we showed up here so loving. But vulnerability is strength. When souls choose to be human, they choose human frailty. If every "Samson" knew he signed up for this, we’d love each other more easily and live this bumpy ride hard. Which, I imagine, both incorporating on the material plane and music are for. We can’t help loving each other, as much as it hurts. “We bring so much sweetness to this bare path,” I thought on Blackstone one morning after a long night; all of us souls pacing with our love and pain. Choosing both — sharing sugar when we can, sharing Hope when we can’t.
Hear "Dark-Eyed Junco" below.
Sugar On Blackstone is out 9/18 on Fire Records.
English (US) · 