Pepi Ginsberg

Busy Streets Make Crowded Minds, The Sweetest Thing You'll Ever Know, Drifter

Apr 21, 2008

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Words by Sean Moeller // Illustration by Johnnie Cluney // Sound Engineering by Patrick Stolley

Recently, a hotel shower in Seattle gave some new insight into the refreshing effects of an outside source - something as flimsy and minimum - on the beginning of one's day. There had been little sleep taken and early morning wakeups while there in the city, so the roll out of bed showers in a place with Nirvana ties were the splashes of awareness and awakening that needed to be had, preludes to strong coffee, helping hands. An unsuspecting scalp was treated to the complimentary hair conditioner of some odd mint variety that it sent a cooling chill into the hair follicles and down into the eyebrows, loosening a stern and hardened squint. It almost watered the eyes with its stiff mint elixir and suddenly the bright daylight was welcomed closer and the body and mind were charging, glad that we'd done this together.

This was just a hair conditioner, nothing to get too excited about, but within seconds, each time it happened, the prospectus of all that laid ahead was altered, turned into potential merriment, etc. Suddenly, the day was ripe and pregnant, not something to address and fight with. Pepi Ginsberg, the newest signee to the amazing Park The Van Records galaxy, is a lot like the effect and the effecter in the mint conditioner anecdote above, as ludicrous as that sounds - a person taking on the characteristics of a hair product that's really no more special than a toothpaste or a drop of cream in a deep cup of that morning coffee. She likely does appreciate the slight twists that can have significant effects on a countenance and a temperament as the music on her debut album is teeming with nods to perception and happiness being so gradually and terrifically affected by the most minute things. Her looks at life are from all of the different perspectives allowed. She looks and looks, burns holes into the unsuspecting passerby that she lays down as the crust for her pies. She rolls these people and the ways that she likens their mannerisms and hopes, dreams and aspirations may be out into a thin layer that fits the tin bottom. She loads the pies up will fillings and feelings, tops them off with a homemade overlay resembling those people and original thoughts that she imagined and then slices three slits in the top to allow all of the things she packed inside a chance to breathe. They take on new lives, just as the ones that Keri Russell made in last year's "Waitress," with the tastes and flavors opening up upon themselves to create a sensory mood that bears witness to the world - especially the New York and Philadelphia worlds of Ginsberg - as the peacock and mute bird that it is.

Ginsberg, in her soulful and breezy style, alludes to the secret folds of people and all that they stand for as they try to navigate all of the difficulties that line up each morning at the stoop, handing you the newspaper as they come in and tuck themselves into the briefcase or carry out bag that you leave the house with. Her explorations in the elasticity of free will and the need to leave everything up to the almighty chance and arbitrary encounter are wonderfully rich and voluminous in their font and thoughtfulness. She doesn't make snap judgments or phrases, but ones that have adult teeth and some age lines cracking out of the corners of their eyes, showing their maturation. As Ginsberg and band played a late afternoon show on an outdoor stage at her label's showcase at SXSW in March, the waning light and a light breeze sailed gently in from the lake, she wore big sunglasses, though she didn't need them and she moved as if so much was in her trying to get out - again being acted on by the forces outside of control and by a seeded spirit that could out watt everything from the outside but instead just mixes with it until there's no distinction.

Click here to visit Pepi Ginsberg's myspace page.
Pepi Ginsberg Official Site
Park The Van Records

tell your friends…

1. first song

   Welcome to Daytrotter

   
2. second song

   Son

   

   - original version appears on RedThis song was written under a tree in People's Park in Berkley, CA and also outside on the fire escape of my friend Matt's apt on Telegraph, and oh wait, in a hotel room in LA as well. I think the line about seasons going round and round, etc. was written walking home to my place in Brooklyn. The song is about feeling like a child, a son, or a daughter, or about the relationship you have with someone with whom you feel you need to be free from. This song is about freedom, personal freedoms, for me freedom from my own patterns or the things I hold on to. And it's about growing up and resisting growing up. I think the song is a negation of the responsibility for things we hold ourselves responsible for (such as losing someone you love) 'cause I think sometimes, it's just life acting on us, not anyone's fault, just our job to deal with it. In a sense, the song is saying, 'let me the hell go, let me be free,' at some point, I think ya just say 'I'm done' - and that's usually a great feeling this song is about getting to, and wanting to get to that point.

3. third song

   The Waterline

   

   - original version appears on RedOh this song is about how magical and inspiring it is to walk along the streets of New York in that certain golden light hour of the day and feel a sense of possibility much greater than yourself. There are some funny characters the narrator comes across on this outing that serve as unlikely teachers who promote the idea of not going under completely, they say 'keep your head up kid, 'cause you're probably going to feel the steady waves whether you're sinking from them or trying to stay afloat.' Alice in the park, man I did see that girl tripping outside St. Mark's church, she was a curious lady.

4. fourth song

   Wind Or Degree

   

   - original version appears on RedI don't know why I think of this as a spaghetti western jam, we rearranged it as a band, my band mates are terrific geniuses and I thank them for it. But ya this is another adventure story. It's a song about someone who is always running from something, looking for something. It goes from city streets of Philly to Cali to some old dilapidated place, I imagine it as some old man's home, old letters stacked around that never got sent, everything's stale, and the person singing just has the sense that she's got to get the hell out and move along. This song was written over a course of time, the story didn't come clear until I went on a road trip and tour in California last summer. My friend Dani (who plays as Rio en Medio she's wonderful!) and I stayed in this totally insane lady's house in Santa Barbara, with a crazy dog that wailed and ran around our room in circles at four in the morning. Anyway, this lady lived on a hill and you could see the whole city, I guess that's where I saw some point of no return and kept moving.

5. fifth song

   In My Bones

   

   - original version appears on RedThis one was written last summer. It's about a lot of things I think, about relationships, falling in love, about wanting to fall in love, but it's more than that at least for me, at least now. This one is really about moving on to a new place, and not looking back. It's about being on a train that only knows how to travel in one direction. The song says 'I'm not going home' so figuratively speaking 'home' is pretty much every location you get off of the train to visit and then leave. There' s always a new place to go, you're always going to find another "home," you'll just never go back to the one you knew. Playing this session: Pepi Ginsberg vocals/guitar Amnon Freidlin guitar and keyboard Jon Guez bass Chris Haag drums