Local Review: Paul Jacobsen And The Madison Arm
Local Music Reviews
Paul Jacobsen And The Madison Arm
Paul Jacobsen And The Madison Arm = Patterson Hood + Hiss Golden Messenger
Paul Jacobsen And The Madison Arm sound like a summer night campfire with a full moon, a slight breeze and an expert storyteller that can make an evening stand still. “Whether you are a hand-me-down / A bad joke that has been passed around / A filthy pig or a sacred cow / A thunderbolt or a thunder cloud.” Paul Jacobsen sings on “The Same Night,” using beautiful free flowing poetry to cocoon you to the heart of the song and attach you to the soul of it. “You can kill the clocks / Bury every tick and drown all the tocks.”
Paul Jacobsen And The Madison Arm’s new record, Two-Headed Hearts, is a pleasant, poetic treasure—it’s like reading a great writer’s book of short stories that you can’t wait to turn the page. Jacobsen understands this and leaves you hanging on every lyrical turn. “When your kite gets wrapped in branches / When your life’s a tangle of strings,” he sings on “I’m On Your Side.” “You can get by without all the rest / With true, true love and a muslin dress.”(Muslin Dress). One of the standout tracks, “Apocalypse Wow,” unfolds with a biting, hollow guitar and a honky-tonk rattle. “Give me lollipops for my children / I got two more in the wagon / I got one more in the oven.” The lyrics are so good, they bring comfort like blankets. “We all lose our way stumbling through the dark / Tangled in the night, searching for the stars / When the morning comes / We are all warmed by the same sun.” (Warmed By The Same Sun).
I love to write reviews because I love music. I love the heights and the depths. I love being blown away, scattering all I know all over the place. Sometimes I just want to be still and listen. I can do that with Paul Jacobsen And The Madison Arm’s new record, Two-Headed Hearts. When the music venue’s lights come back on and the house local music begins to play, I want to be front and center to hear these easy songs breathe. –Russ Holsten