Following Rivers

Last week hurricane Irene made her way up the East Coast and most of my friends fled NYC. I decided that, rather than spending a few days alone without power, I would experience the ‘worst storm in a generation’ with a certain man. He lives in Philadelphia. I’ll call him William Penn. Saturday morning on the train down to the City of Brotherly Love, I listened to Lykke Li’s Wounded Rhymes. The album came out in March, but I’ve only recently listened closely.  The sultry “I Follow Rivers” slipped under my skin, like Mr. Penn. 

Philadelphia is surrounded by the Schuylkill and Delaware Rivers. The Schuylkill starts at Tuscarora Springs in the Appalachian Mountains and the Delaware spills into the Atlantic Ocean. The Delaware River borders the city to the east, separating Philadelphia from New Jersey. The Schuylkill River, a tributary of the Delaware, runs through the city. Both rivers caused major damage last weekend. When we walked down to the banks of the Schuylkill on Sunday after Irene had passed, the water mesmerized me.  It rushed by carrying debris downstream and spilled over the edge onto the pedestrian walkways and into the park. The river overflowed at a dizzying speed. Like many of my past relationships, it looked like something that I couldn't keep up with for long. Then it receded and the sun came out. Amid the wreckage there was a quiet stillness. For all of my adult life, I have lived in cities near the water; London, Boston, Paris, Senegal, and New York. I grew up spending summers on a lake. I can’t imagine not living near the water. I find it soothing, even in a storm.  Li's new album and Mr. Penn have also had this affect on me.

The songs on Wounded Rhymes alternate between wistful dirges and addictive dark pop tunes. My favorite, “I Follow Rivers,” starts slow and quiet with swirly electronics and guitar, sounding like that mountain where the river begins. Then a steady drum beat kicks in. Layers of various sounds build and move through the verse. Li’s raspy voice drags you along and heads to a catchy chorus, a rapid river pulling you to the ocean. 

Oh I beg you, can I follow?
Oh I ask you, why not always?
Be the ocean, where I unravel
Be my only 

Be the water where I’m wading
You’re my river running high, 

run deep, run wild

I I follow, I follow you 

deep sea baby
I follow you
I I follow, I follow you, 

dark doom honey
I follow you

I love the song’s eerie and sexy funkiness, but the darker sentiments don’t capture my feelings these days. I follow Mr. Penn, a river to his ocean. This summer he took me to Cape May, where the Delaware River meets the Atlantic Ocean. He is the water where I want to wade, and even swim. Yet, I’m not following dark doom. I’m not unraveling in the ocean as I’ve been prone to do in the past. I’m enjoying the song and Li’s entire album of moody, twisted, Wounded Rhymes without the wounds to match. 

Schuylkill River, 1:30PM, 28 Aug, 2011