"Portions for Foxes" is a series of weekly posts, each about one song by a woman or a band led by a woman. See the introduction for more.
Doing a little research for this post, I found out there's a whole history I wasn't aware of - previous band and parallel bands and reunions and all that jazz. It's not a surprise - people have careers and lives, which started before you paid attention and continued after you get distracted by something else - but the details are always more specific and interesting than you expect.
I knew Orenda Fink from one solo record in the mid-Aughts. I'm a big fan of this one song in particular, and still listen to it. But her career is much bigger than that, with several other band names I probably should take the time to investigate, one of these days.
But today, I'm here to talk about High Ground, a swirling, tense song driven by what I think is a mandolin - the second-creepiest mandolin song I know, after Okkervil River's Westfall - and powered by Fink's bright, clear, quiet voice.
Cause when the water rises
They start to look for high ground
Just like me when you come around
I'm pretty sure this is yet another bad-relationship song. The singer is trying to stay away from the man she's singing to - but she also seems to be singing to a storm, something natural and overwhelming. Or maybe she just sees that man like a tsunami or flood or nor'easter: destructive and violent, destroying all before it.
Don’t come search for me
I beg of you both
There is a "both." So I like to think there's both a storm coming and this man, at the same time, and the singer is pleading with both of them to stay away. The song is in that moment before the storm hits, before the man finds her, when there's still room for words, for pleading. Still time to look for high ground to weather the storm.
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