New Mexico from New Mexico by Jacob Smigel
"New Mexico" is an ode to the state’s motto: The Land of Enchantment, which also adorns their license plates. The song is a medley of some of the strange experiences I’ve had there which defy easy explanation. The woods of New Mexico have a creepiness about them, and the people an ancient wisdom that has always humbled me. As Matt Kendall said, “If you find yourself in the mountains that the locals call the Blood of Christ, you will be struck with how insignificant you are in the grand scheme of things. The wood you burn and the trout you fish all sustain you. There is obvious worth in the work you do. And your reward is to sit on the throne of nature and gaze into its majesty.” The line “I hate rabbits, wards off smoke,” is an inside-joke from years ago. John’s daughter Kate told me that smoke from the campfire would be directed away from me if I said the words “I hate rabbits,” out loud. Amazingly, this tricks works and I use it to this day. It helps if you really mean it. Several people have asked me if mice really crawled in my hair. The answer is yes, but they did so while crawling across my sleeping bag and over my head. I recall waking
several times to the feeling of a pair of cold mouse paws on my cheek. It seems strange, but the mice no longer fear us after a week or so of camping and can be very pushy. This fact troubled my mother who said, “I love rodents, theoretically, and behaviorally, ecologically, I’m not afraid of mice or rats, but having their droppings fall on me while I’m sleeping, or having my mattress peed on by them during the day, or bitten holes in while I’m gone, that was really distasteful to me.”
Tracklist
| 1. | New Mexico | 4:11 |
Lyrics
New Mexico
New Mexico, your motto it is so right,
There was a pack rat that died twice (twice).
From a mountain top a cloud was born,
And a thousand blue beetles swarmed,
And in dying turned black as night,
When fireballs took flight,
My hair all full of mice…
New Mexico, your motto it is so right.
I count split-pines and lightening strikes,
And make blisters of my hands.
Three families of local folks,
Chant “I hate rabbits” wards off smoke,
La Cañada Del Oso (O’ so) close,
Yet so far away…
Is it for the things that pass before our eyes,
That we hold on to such grey hairs?
Or is it because we’re afraid to die,
That we hold on to the same grey hairs?
I sense an opportunity to investigate the matter:
Jacob: “Hey Joe, are you scared of Black Bears?”
Joe: “Oh, hell no!!”
Jacob: “Matt are, you scared of Mountain Lions?”
Matt: “No!!”
Jacob: “Nikki, are you scared of a Wooded Owl?”
Nikki: “Mm, mm…(laughs)”
Jacob: “Neither am I, I punch my stomach when it growls…”
New Mexico, your motto it is so right,
There was a pack rat that died twice (twice!!)
From a mountain top a cloud was born,
And a thousand blue beetles swarmed,
And a three-legged dog spent the night,
When fireballs took flight,
My hair all full of mice…
