The Sound Of The Perennial Long Grass Rustling

Virginia-born Andy Cabic could’ve called his band
Palmarosa. Or Citronella. Or maybe even Sandalwood.
But he didn’t. He didn’t call his band any of those things.
And music this good, would still sound this good
whether it was played at the bottom of the deepest ocean,
or way up there; above the clouds, where only Gods were s’posed to tread.
For Vetiver sing simple songs about coming on strong and going down fast.
Songs about going fishing. Songs about the open road.
Songs that clarify. Songs that refresh. Songs about lemon trees
and rainbow skies. Songs about good times and good friends
and San Fransisco's Mission District by-the-bay.
Lilting, twirling, shimmering songs. Songs that rusticalize.
Andy Cabic wears a corduroy fisherman’s cap throughout.
A “Donovan” cap, as my dad might choose to describe it.
Like vintage Joe Orton. Like Lennon back in ‘64.
It reminds me of a corduroy fisherman’s cap I had as a child.
I had a real thing for hats when I was younger.
Hats were the first thing I ever learnt to draw.
I went everywhere in that corduroy fisherman’s cap of mine.
I flew kites with my grandfather in that hat.
Oh mamma. Oh papa. Watch me, as I follow the breadcrumbs home,
out through the tall and fragrant kuss-kuss grass, illuminated by
the new moon hung high above Primrose Hill.

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