#so i give him a list of few cds from their catalogue

[majortomwaits]

discogs alerted me that the secondhand record shop i have a lowkey beef with holds The Jam's The Gift, should i kill myself?

[paper-stars-and-fireflies]

Opening Night

The first story in the Grimm Omens series! The cast is mostly OCs, Magnolia, Ruya, and Kali are each mine, and Omen belongs to the wonderful @splanoot​. Thanks for reading!       Thursday night found Husker working behind his begrudgingly-beloved bar, same as most other nights. As usual, business was slow. Most of the hotel guests weren’t allowed drinks, and the few that were rarely stopped by. His only patron tonight was one of his few regulars, and his reputation was enough to make sure no one else stopped by.       “Little early to be starting the weekend, eh?” Husk asked, taking a swig from the bottle. Omen nodded, a quiet smile playing across the exposed slice of his face. Between the smoked visor cracked just wide enough to drink and the shadows of the dim bar, his face stayed hidden, not that it bothered either man. It was just part of their normal. 

     “Lighter workload this week.” Omen offered, lifting his glass in a mock toast. It was true, he’d had less tasks this week, but he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it. It was the third week in a row with less work than normal, in fact, and three weeks is a pattern. He pushed it away, taking a bigger sip from his drink than he meant to. Lilith was probably just busy with the extermination coming up, that was all, he told himself. It was fine, he told himself. Husk filled his glass without being asked, and the men continued to kill their bottles in silence, giving too much thought to the things they were trying to forget.      Their drunken epiphanies were pushed off a little longer when the hotel’s front door swung open and slammed shut, a cluster of figures stumbling in. One, a short, plump fox, helped another, a grey-skinned demon almost twice her height. The third, a shadowy figure, dissolved at the threshold, not following the women in.       “Take it easy now, Magnolia,” the fox instructed, steering her companion to a bar stool. The woman helped herself up, groaning slightly as she settled. The fox, Ruya, was a new resident at the hotel, and gestured to Husk for a glass. She patted the woman’s leg. “I’ll come and fetch ya later lassie. Ring me if you need me sooner.” She waved hello to both of the men before scurrying off, having to take her time on the stairs. Magnolia groaned again, slumping over the bar before Husk pushed at her shoulder, making her sit up so he could set a glass in front of her.       “You look terrible, Maggie. You just get back?” He waited for her to take a sip before asking, eyeing her. There were bloodstains and tears all across her outfit, and bruises, dark purple and blue bloomed across her grey skin, pink and red scratches puckering just above her collar. She swirled the class before answering, tapping her nails on the glass softly.       “Few minutes ago. Bad hunt.” She set the glass down and rested her face on her palm, her elbow on the bar. “I had to get bailed out. How long’s it been since that happened?” Her laugh was bitter and short, and she finished the drink before she continued. She glanced over, looking over the smooth contours of the helmet Omen wore, taking in the smoked visor, the jacket, the boots.      “I assume that’s your bike outside?” She ventured, turning to face her companion more. If she had something else on her mind, or if she recognized the name on his back, or the faintly glimmering revolver strapped to his hip, she didn’t let on. He nodded, slow, watching her. She shrugged, unbothered.       “It’s beautiful. Sure it rides great, too. Husk, can I get a couple shots for now? This hurts like all Hell.” She rubbed her neck as she spoke, picking at a scab absent-mindedly. Husk obliged, setting a pair in front of her. She stayed facing Omen, moving to hold her hand out to him before realizing her mistake and dropping it to her lap, wrapping her fingers around the sheath resting on her thigh.       “I’m Magnolia Grimm, I’m a hunter. I’m a friend of Ruya’s.” She offered a smile, nervous about her own bad manners. “Do you stay at the hotel?”      Omen took his time answering, watching her carefully. “Sometimes,” he said, pausing to drink. She averted her eyes. “Ruya’s a good kid.” He added. She nodded, taking one of her shots. She set the glass back down on a napkin, but didn’t reach for the other. She regarded him curiously, opened her mouth to say something, but then faltered and turned away, leaving Husk to pick up the pieces of the conversation. He dragged them both back into conversation, asking Omen about his last few jobs. Magnolia put in comments here and there, but was mostly content to stay quiet, feeling out how much of what she knew about the other guest was legend and what was truth. Today had been awful, so at least this could be interesting. She took her second shot, setting it next to the other for Husk to refill. He did when the conversation lulled. She took one slower, sighing at the taste. It didn’t burn as bad as when she was human, and truth be told, she missed it.       “Looks like Kali’s on his way to becoming an Overlord,” she offered up finally. “I’ll probably have to put off looking for Haw until someone handles him. Pretty sure it was one of his toys I ran into today.” She scratched at the scabs again, rubbing her hands together afterwards. Husk glanced at her fingers, noted her missing gloves. She pushed both of the shot glasses back to him just to distract him. He filled both and slid them back. She swallowed hard and fixed on her most winning smile - or least, it had been, before she had grown fangs.        “I don’t suppose you’d sell me a couple bullets.” she asked her companion, lifting one of the shots at him. There wasn’t any real hope in her request, but she offered it like a joke, an ice-breaker for their kind. His hand drifted to his holster, and she read the set in his shoulders as a no. With an unbothered shrug, she swallowed her drink and flipped the glass upside down. She slid off the stool, leaving the other untouched.        “ ‘m gonna go for a smoke real quick, Husk, watch that.” She muttered, digging in her pocket for a cigarette that wasn’t bent or cut. She snapped her fingers as she headed for the door, sparking a tiny flame for herself. Husk waited for the door to shut, watching her silhouette through the dark glass. With a harrumph, he turned to his long-time friend.       “Been a while since ya been this quiet. Cuzza the kid?” He asked, organizing the bottles for something to do. One didn’t stare at Omen. “Ya scared of a girl?” he teased.       “Not scared, just don’t know her.” He took a sip of his drink, “And don’t take kindly to someone asking for bullets.”      “Lay off, she was makin’ nice. Wouldn’ta took ‘em if ya gave them to her. That one don’t take help.” Omen just nodded. He could get the feeling, but had seen a lot of good men die from it.       “She’s lookin’ for her brother, so you know. Died before her and she hasn’t seen him since. Been lookin from the day she dropped in. ‘S goin’ on four years now.”       “She want him dead?” Omen ventured. That definitely wasn’t worth a bullet.      “Nah, they’re good. The one she’s try’nta kill is this lowlife from her past life. Fucker probably did her in, and now she’s convinced he’s going after overlords.” Husk tapped his claws on the bar, weighing just how much to say. Her hunting methods for one. Who had bailed her out, for the other. Fuck it, Omen had eyes. If he hadn’t caught on yet, he would soon enough.      “Should sort itself out then, yeah?” Omen shrugged, knowing first hand what Overlords were made out of.       “Not the way she tells it,” Husker mutters under his breath. “She’s a good kid, most nights, so don’t be a dick, okay? She comes by ‘bout as often as you. Same line of work, different jobs.” Omen nodded, one hand still resting on his leg by the holster. The men went quiet as Magnolia trailed back up to the bar, making small talk about the friends they had in common. She took her last drink, but didn’t sit back down yet, preoccupied by something on her hellphone.      “Hey, Husk,” She cut in when the men had paused. “Does that jukebox still work?” She gestured towards the machine, pushed against the wall between a pair of sofas and an impromptu dance floor. The lights on it swirled different shades of red, the rest of the machine done up in dark wood and gunmetal mesh screens. The glass panel over the CD changer had a crack, but all the buttons were lit up and useable.       “Don’t touch it, kid. That’s Alastor’s. He ain’t a fan of people messin’ with his stuff.”       “It’s fiiine, Husk, he won’t kill me over a couple songs.” she called, heading over. There was an extra sway to her walk that made Husk wonder if she was up to something, or if it was time to cut her off.  She took her time, poking through the catalogue and queueing up a list of songs, but true to her word, Alastor didn’t bother her. In the middle of a slower, jazzy piece, she came back to the bar, leaning both arms on the counter.       “Hey Husker, come dance with me.” She grinned again, looking more alive than she had before.       “I’m workin’, kid, dance by yourself.”      “Aww, that’s no fun, and it’s just the three of us. C’mon. One song. I’ll get another drink, we’ll be even. Sound like a deal?” She held up her palm and he glared at it, then eyed her, unimpressed. She snickered and put her hand back down, tucked into her other elbow.       “Fine, fine, pussycat. One more drink though, something sweet.” Husk grumbled, turning away to make her drink. She turned her smile to the legendary mercenary. She kept her hand down.       “What about you, handsome? You dance?”

[beanarie]

⭐star⭐⭐star⭐⭐star⭐⭐star⭐⭐star⭐ (or talk more about and/all of your Elementary WIPs/ideas bc I want every single drop I can get)

so i totally wrote about joan having breast cancer a couple years ago. here’s the bits i cobbled together, some of which also disappeared from my phone, which tells me i need to back my shit up more often!

~

The call comes while her stitches from her lumpectomy and lymph node removal are still in place and hurting like a mother and she's only too aware of Sherlock, his terror an acrid smell in her nose. She's told it's not what they hoped, but it's not hopeless, and she barely pauses at all before she looks at Sherlock, smiles, and says, "It's fine."

He's so grateful he takes her out for lunch. They go to a cafe with an outdoor area that he knows she's been eyeing for months.  She orders a giant salad with extra pecans and he wrinkles his nose before telling a story about Thomas Jefferson's penchant for giving pecans as gifts.

The call comes while her stitches from her lumpectomy and lymph node removal are still in place and hurting like a mother and she's only too aware of Sherlock, his terror an acrid smell in her nose. She's told it's not what they hoped, but it's not hopeless, and she barely pauses at all before she looks at Sherlock, smiles, and says, "It's fine."

He's so grateful he takes her out for lunch. They go to a cafe with an outdoor area that he knows she's been eyeing for months.  She orders a giant salad with extra pecans and he wrinkles his nose before telling a story about Thomas Jefferson's penchant for giving pecans as gifts.

[the truth comes out in a week or so!]

"We should talk about this."

He closes the file in his hand and tosses it on the stack. 

"I-I'm sorry I kept you in the dark. I needed to get the full results and figure out what to do next, without... I don't know. Background noise."

"It's not that serious. People with results like mine have a ninety-three percent chance of remaining cancer-free after treatment. Really, it's barely cancer." 

"I mean, yes. Several weeks of radiation, sprinkled with tests and maybe a PET scan or two. Still, not particularly life-derailing. I'm going to work. The only real change will be to my availability. And I won't be able to leave the city, except maybe on the weekends. Overall, we'll simply get more use out of face-time than we did before."

A series of short, shallow nods urges her to let the other shoe drop.

Joan adjusts her gaze to slightly beyond his left ear. "I've asked Lin to help me find a place to sublet for the next two months."

His only reaction is the barely perceptible droop of his shoulders.

"I'm not leaving you." The first time she meant to leave the brownstone, he abducted a contract killer, then tortured and stabbed him. The second time, he went back to London for almost a year with no notice beyond a short Dear Joan letter. She can't handle one of his signature extreme overreactions. "Sherlock, it's really important you absorb that, if nothing else."

"But you do plan on leaving."

"It's the least disruptive option for both of us. And it's only temporary."

[the next day, joan gets home and in the library there's a stack of books, dvds, and cd's on wellness-type things and other stuff, like a giant fluffy orange blanket on the couch. sherlock explains he did some research, orange is a calming color. also OK HE RESPECTS HER CHOICES but. she's not a disruption, she's family. also also moving is one of the most stress-inducing acts a person can put themselves through and it wouldn't be good for her recovery to do that twice in as many months. anyway, she stays.]

"We should formulate a safety plan."

Joan finishes the line she was working on and clicks save so she doesn't have to end up doing this report all over again. This has his second sponsor written all over it. Rashida, having completed her PHD, has been taking classes in behavioral science possibly with an eye for a new specialty. She means well, and she and Sherlock get each other like a pair of esoteric intellectuals only could. It's still strange to get confirmation that he talks about her illness with other people. "A safety plan."

"Yes! A short, memorable list of agreed upon actions in the case of emergent medical and/or emotional, um, turmoil."

"We never had a safety plan for you."

 "Didn't we?"

"Fine, so you'll let me pass out wherever I drop and just leave a protein bar by my head so I don't die of hypoglycemic shock when I wake up two days later."

"That's all you did?"

"So I'll let you know if I'm not feeling well and up to whatever's going on." His expression is unreadable, which is rare. "What? You implied pretty heavily that you wanted me to."

Incomprehensibly, his expression becomes almost sad. "That's why you remain so closed off, because of my history of resistance to..." 

"Okay, this conversation swerved past making sense. I tell you things all the time. This morning, with your cereal?"

"When *truly* bothered, you keep it to yourself and speak to no one, unless I draw it out of you."

"I speak up when I have something to say. And, I will."

-

"Have you considered cutting your hair?" 

"I'm not getting chemo, Mom. I told you."

"I know. It's just so much to take care of. My cousin Darlene, she had radiation. It drained her. You'll be tired."

"You've always wanted me to cut my hair."

Her expression grows softer, more wistful. "I do like it shorter." 

"I remember." Ruefully her entire catalogue of school photos scrolls through her memory. Mom's rule had been adamant and easy to follow: Never past the chin. "I'm not doing that again."

"Okay. Your choice." 

Joan doesn't rise to the hint of passive-aggression. 

A few hours later, she gets home from treatment, she takes a shower, and she tries to see tonight playing out in a possible near future. She adds imaginary weights to her wrists and ankles, and the almost unbearable weariness after watching a murderer get to go home scot-free. 

"Fine," she tells her reflection. 

She puts her mom on FaceTime, so she can see the results.

Her mom squints. "You didn't cut that much."

"Four inches." Just enough so she doesn't have to strain to get the brush through while she's blow drying.

“Hm.“

“Anyway, I’ll see you Thursday for tea, Mom?“

-

Lord save her from aspiring criminals who think they're too cool for the interrogation room. Anthony Raymond has been stonewalling them since Bell brought him in. What makes this especially annoying is he won't even ask for a lawyer. They'd tell him to spill his guts, or at least start negotiations for a deal. This nothingness isn't ideal when she has to take off for treatment soon. If she doesn't get this nut cracked before she goes, it'll be hanging over her head for the rest of the afternoon.

The door opens. Anthony doesn't move a muscle. Gregson enters bearing an extra-large fountain drink, a pen, and a piece of paper. He sits, thoughtfully configuring these objects around his immediate space. It takes a full thirty seconds, during which he doesn't acknowledge Anthony at all. He slides the paper toward Joan.

'Paige made you a smoothie. Not sure what's in this, but she swears by it.'

Joan glances at Anthony as though she learned something important, then looks back at the note. "Hm." She takes the pen. 'I'm good. Thank you both.'

'Holmes said you haven't really eaten yet.' He pushes the drink about an inch in her direction.

Joan makes two straight lines, one each for 'I'm' and 'Good'. 

[perp eventually cracks because their note-passing is freaking him out]

[slightly later, joan brings the smoothie into gregson's office. he asks what she thought of it. she says "i didn't try it" and throws it in the garbage.]

-

It's Saturday, the end of her first week of treatment, and there aren't any murders. Joan texts the guy she liked from TrueRomantix, the one who came to check that she was safe when Everyone doxxed her and hacked her profile. He's still cute. She can't remember exactly why they didn't sleep together the last time, something about it not feeling right. Meanwhile he fosters seeing-eye dogs and he has the best pectorals she's ever seen.

She takes off her bra, but leaves the camisole. It's dark in his bedroom, but not too dark for either of them to see her scars or the semi-circle constellation of radiation tattoos. At one point she guides his hand underneath to her right breast. When he goes for the left, she distracts with a move that almost has his eyes bugging out of his head.

"Wow," he breathes.

When they're done, he doesn't push her to leave *or* ask her why she isn't staying. They'll be doing this again sometime.

-

[another patient in the waiting room at the radiation clinic starts having a medical emergency. joan immediately jumps forward to help and the patient's mom looks at her like who the fuck are you. it sticks with her the whole rest of the afternoon.]

She's been in a position where people have doubted her expertise before, many times. But never because she was meant to be on the other side. She's a patient, that's her role now.

Briefly she considers lying. The Uber app is acting weird, something like that. She settles on a simple, 'Are you busy?'

She gets her reply in less than thirty seconds. 'Need a ride?'

When Marcus arrives at the clinic, he touches her arm and kisses her cheek, a note of intimacy between close friends. It feels natural, even though his customary greeting, usually at crime scenes or the bull pen, is a brusquely friendly "Hey." They communicate mainly in nods and smiles intended only for each other, cups of coffee as close to the way they like it as limited resources will allow. 

After they settle into the car, he doesn't turn the engine on right away. He waits, unobtrusively.  

"I don't want to disrupt any plans you might've had for today," she says.

He lifts one shoulder. "Just a pickup game. Nothing I can't put off for another week."

"Actually..."

He turns his head. "Hm?"

She was warned not to expect anything fancy. No bleachers, not much crowd. Kids of varying ages drift by, many popping in and out of the tiny storefronts. 

She can't remember the last time she simply existed in public when she wasn't jogging or staking out a criminal. The open air feels refreshing. Not one of these people care that she used to be a doctor.

After the first quarter, she asks to borrow the chair of a guy selling hats, scarves, and phone chargers from a folding table. He was spending most of his time at the halal cart talking to the man stuck inside anyway.

-

The chair is comfortable. The lighting tasteful. Joan's shoes feel fine. The mid-level exec at the other end of the table isn't stonewalling in the slightest. His voice could almost be called soothing. 

All those other things aside, if this meeting doesn't end in the next few minutes she is going to jump out the window. 

Her knee bouncing, she shifts her upper body in a way that's hopefully not that visible to anyone else. It doesn't help, in fact the resulting movement of her bra over her left boob makes her want to scream.

"We appreciate your elucidation on Mr. Wallach's movements last Tuesday." Joan nearly bites her lip at the growing light at the end of the tunnel. "Now if you could tell us about the lawsuit from three months ago. Sexual harassment, was it not?"

Joan gets to her feet with a repressed groan. Then she runs for the receptionist. "Restroom?"

She's just stepped inside the single stall and slid the lock into place when she hears the deathly urgent, "WATSON???"

She curses fluently inside her head and undoes the lock, just in case. "Sherlock! I'm o-"

And he's barreled through the open door.

"What the hell!" She pulls together the unbuttoned half of her shirt. 

"I thought-" Over Sherlock's shoulder, a security guard starts coming into view. "What-what are you doing?"

"Sorry." Her face will probably remain this garish shade of red for...ever. "I'm, uh, peeling. Itch is driving me crazy."

He blinks, adrenaline making him shake slightly and keeping him from comprehending. "What?!"

"The only emergency right now is my imminent death by mortification." Her left hand tightly curled to protect her modesty, she makes a shooing motion with her right. "Go away."

He turns toward the door, then stops. "I've done the reading. If you have developed a rash, or the beginnings of dermatitis, scratching is highly inad-"

"OUT."

-

Lin greets her at the bar in her signature neurotically enthusiastic way. After tilting her head a little, she agrees to sit at a booth rather than stay near the bartender, where she loves to try out her charms to get free drinks for the two of them.

"I've never seen you go hard like this." She's waiting on the server to bring her second martini and Joan's third whiskey. "You look tired."

Joan waits until after the drinks have arrived. "Thanks, I had cancer."

"What?"

"Had," she repeats. "Had. As of yesterday, it's past tense. When I'm done with this course of radiation, I'll be free." She knocks on the table. "Until the follow-ups." 

Lin gets up to go to the bathroom without a word. Joan downs her drink and orders another round. To Lin's credit, she beats the server back to the table.

"So those times you said you couldn't meet up because you had cases..."

"One, oncologist appointment and two, actually a case. Sorry."

"You told your brother, didn't you?"

Because Joan is three drinks in, she doesn't hold anything back from her eyeroll. Her siblings having no relationship with each other is not on her. "That's different."

"Because he's real."

"Because he lives two hundred miles away! I didn't have to see...that. That expression, in my face, all the time."

"You could've died and I would never have known you were sick."

Joan snorts. "I was never *dying*." There was that period between her biopsy and the results of her lumpectomy, when decades-old memories of various patients, poor souls fading in front of her eyes, resurfaced every hour. Lin didn't need to be there for that.

"Look." Joan kisses Lin noisily on the cheek. "I just got the best news of my life and I wanted MY SISTER here with to celebrate being Officially. Cancer. Free!"

A table of young men nearby let out a cheer. Lin smiles in spite of herself.

-

Joan wakes up naturally. 

She spends a few minutes watching him. Many people say they'll sleep anywhere, but Sherlock actually will. And he never shows a single sign of stiffness or back pain. She envies him that, even as she acknowledges that she'd still prefer a bed, even if there were no consequences to sleeping on the floor. 

"Is this just the first time I caught you?" Her voice is husky from sleep. 

He springs to his feet. "Oh!" He runs off, returning no more than six minutes later with breakfast.

After placing the tray on the bed, he stands at her side, stiff and silent like a brooding Lurch. "What, no speech?" she teases.

He takes in a shaky breath. "It has been quite some time since I lost the ability to imagine a life without you in it. Gratitude isn't sufficient enough to describe how it feels to know this is a concern I can put off for another day."

"Oh, Sherlock." 

"These past few weeks have been fraught, for you." She gives a start. This has taken an unexpected turn. "Full of pain and fear, the reopening of old wounds. You've conducted yourself so admirably. My respect for you, which had appeared to reach its zenith years ago, I find had untold heights yet to climb." He leans toward her, his hand cradling the back of her head while his lips press against her hairline. 

He disengages, turning his back and she makes a tentative grab for his hand. He freezes in place, not resisting. "I love you, too," she says thickly, shoving aside tears.

Joan doesn't remember having done anything remotely admirable. She's been tired and snappish, she forced everyone to cater to her, she stopped doing her fair share of the work. The one person she tried to help didn't need her. It's been weeks since she felt like she existed for any worthwhile reason. 

Maybe that's why it's good to see herself through his eyes, just this once. She squeezes his hand, then quickly lets go, taking pity on him. Plucking the cloth napkin from the tray and pressing it against her eyes, she laughs. "So this was your plan for my last day? Get my face all blotchy just in time to go in there and say goodbye to all those people?"

"What does it matter? You'll never see them again.

[northcountryprimitive]

“You Can Hear Someone’s World View Through Their Guitar.” An Interview with Josh Rosenthal of Tompkins Square Records

This interview originally appeared at North Country Primitive on 11th March 2016

Josh Rosenthal’s Tompkins Square Records, which has recently celebrated its tenth anniversary, has become somewhat of an institution for music fans, thanks to Josh’s consistent championing of American Primitive guitar, the old, weird America and various other must-hear obscurities he has managed to pluck from the ether. Not content with running one of the best record labels on the planet, he is now also an author, and about to go out on tour with various musicians from the wider Tompkins Square family in support of his new book, The Record Store of the Mind. We caught up with him this week and pestered him with a heap of questions - our thanks to Josh for putting up with us.

Congratulations on The Record Store of the Mind – it’s an absorbing and entertaining read. Has this project had a long gestation period? How easily does writing come to you - and is it something you enjoy doing? It certainly comes across that way…

Thanks for the kind words. I don’t consider myself a writer. I started the book in November 2014 and finished in May 2015, but a lot of that time was spent procrastinating, working on my label, or getting really down on myself for not writing. I could have done more with the prose, made it more artful. I can’t spin yarn like, say, your average MOJO writer. So I decided early on to just tell it straight, just tell the story and don’t labour over the prose.

I particularly like how you mix up memoir, pen portraits of musicians, and snippets of crate digger philosophy… was the book crafted and planned this way or was there an element of improvisation - seeing where your muse took you? And is there more writing to follow?

If I write another book, it’d have to be based around a big idea or theme. This one is a collection of essays. As I went on, I realised that there’s this undercurrent of sadness and tragedy in most of the stories, so a theme emerged. I guess it’s one reflective of life, just in a musical context. We all have things we leave undone, or we feel under-appreciated at times. I wasn’t even planning to write about myself, but then some folks close to me convinced me I should do. So you read about six chapters and then you find out something about the guy who’s writing this stuff. I intersperse a few chapters about my personal experience, from growing up on Long Island in love with Lou Reed to college radio days to SONY and all the fun things I did there. Threading those chapters in gives the book a lift, I think.

Tell us a bit about the planned book tour. You’ve got a mighty fine selection of musicians joining you on the various dates. I imagine there was no shortage of takers?

I’m really grateful to them all. I selected some folks in each city I’m visiting, and they all are in the Tompkins Square orbit. Folks will see the early guitar heroes like Peter Walker, Max Ochs and Harry Taussig and the youngsters like Diane Cluck, one of my favourite vocalists. You can’t read for more than ten minutes. People zone out. So having music rounds out the event and ties back to the whole purpose of my book and my label.

It’s clear from the book that you haven’t lost your excitement about uncovering hidden musical gems. Any recent discoveries that have particularly floated your boat?

I’m working with a couple of guys on a compilation of private press guitar stuff. They are finding the most fascinating and beautiful stuff from decades ago. I’ve never heard of any of the players. Most are still alive, and they are sending me fantastic photos and stories. I have been listening to a lot of new music now that Spotify is connected to my stereo system! I love Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith. Her new one is out soon. I like Charlie Hilton’s new album too.

Any thoughts on the vinyl resurgence and the re-emergence of the humble cassette tape?

Vinyl has kept a lot of indie record stores in business, which is a great development. As a label, it’s a low margin product, so that’s kind of frustrating. If you’re not selling it hand over fist, it can be a liability. The model seems to be - make your physical goods, sell them as best you can within the first four months, and then let the digital sphere be your warehouse. I never bought cassettes and have no affinity for them, or the machines that play them.

Turning to Tompkins Square, did your years working for major labels serve as a good apprenticeship for running your own label? Did you have a clear idea of what you wanted the label to look like from the outset or has the direction its taken developed organically over time?

Working for PolyGram as a teenager and then SONY for 15 years straight out of college was formative. I like taking on projects. My interests and the marketplace dictate what I do. I’ve always felt like the label does me instead of vice versa. For example, the idea of releasing two, three or four disc sets of a particular genre served me well, but now it feels like a very 2009 concept. It doesn’t interest me much, and the commercial viability of that has diminished because it seems the appetite for those types of products has diminished.

Working in relatively niche genres in the current music industry climate can’t be the safest or easiest way to make a living. Is there a sense sometimes that you’re flying by the seat of your pants?

We’re becoming a two-format industry - streaming and vinyl. The CD is really waning and so is the mp3. The streaming pie is growing but it’s modest in terms of income when you compare it to CD or download margins at their height. I don’t really pay much mind to the macro aspects of the business. I just try to release quality, sell a few thousand, move on to the next thing, while continuing to goose the catalogue. The business is becoming very much about getting on the right playlists that will drive hundreds of thousands of streams. It’s the new payola.

American Primitive and fingerstyle guitar makes up a significant percentage of Tompkins Square releases, going right back to the early days of the label – indeed, it could be said that you’ve played a pivotal role in reviving interest in the genre. Is this a style that is particularly close to your heart? What draws you to it?

Interest in guitar flows in and out of favour. There are only a small number of guitarists I actually like, and a much longer list of guitarists I’m told I’m SUPPOSED to like. Most leave me cold, even if they’re technically great. But I respect anyone who plays their instrument well. Certain players like Harry Taussig or Michael Chapman really reach me - their music really gets under my skin and touches my soul. It’s hard to describe, but it has something to do with melody and repetition. It’s not about technique per se. You can hear someone’s world view through their guitar, and you can hear it reflecting your own.

You’ve reintroduced some wonderful lost American Primitive classics to the world – by Mark Fosson, Peter Walker, Don Bikoff, Richard Crandell and so on. How have these reissues come about? Painstaking research? Happy cratedigging accidents? Serendipity? Are there any reissues you’re particularly proud of?

They came about in all different ways. A lot of the time I can’t remember how I got turned on to something, or started working with someone. Peter was among the first musicians I hunted down in 2005, and we made his first album in 40 years. I think Mark’s cousin told me about his lost tapes in the attic. Bikoff came to me via WFMU. Crandell - I’m not sure, but In The Flower of My Youth is one of the greatest solo guitar albums of all time. I’m proud of all of them !

Are there any ‘ones that got away’ that you particularly regret, where red tape, copyright issues, cost or recalcitrant musicians have prevented a reissue from happening? Any further American Primitive reissues in the pipeline you can tell us about – the supply of lost albums doesn’t seem to be showing signs of drying up yet…

Like I said, this new compilation I’m working on is going to be a revelation. So much fantastic, unknown, unheard private press guitar music. It makes you realise how deep the well actually is. There are things I’ve wanted to do that didn’t materialise. Usually these are due to uncooperative copyright owners or murky provenance in a recording that makes it unfit to release legitimately.

You’ve also released a slew of albums by contemporary guitarists working in the fingerstyle tradition. How do you decide who gets the Tompkins Square treatment?  What are you looking for in a guitarist when you’re deciding who to work with? And what’s the score with the zillions of James Blackshaw albums? Has he got dirt on you!?

It takes a lot for me to sign someone. I feel good about the people I’ve signed, and most of them have actual careers, insofar as they can go play in any US or European city and people will pay to see them. I hope I’ve had a hand in that. I did six albums with Blackshaw because he’s one of the most gifted composers and guitarist of the past 50 years. He should be scoring films. He really should be a superstar by now, like Philip Glass. I think he’s not had the right breaks or the best representation to develop his career to its full potential. But he’s still young.

Imaginational Anthems has been a flagship series for Tompkins Square from the beginning. The focus of the series seems to have shifted a couple of times – from the original mixture of old and new recordings to themed releases to releases with outside curators. Has this variation in approach been a means by which to mix it up and keep the series fresh? Are you surprised at the iconic status the series has achieved?

I don’t know about iconic. I think the comps have served their purpose, bringing unknowns into the light via the first three volumes and introducing some young players along the way. Cian Nugent was on the cover of volume 3 as a teenager. Daniel Bachman came to my attention on volume 5, which Sam Moss compiled. Sam Moss’ new album is featured on NPR just today! Steve Gunn was relatively unknown when he appeared on volume 5. There are lots more examples of that. I like handing over the curation to someone who can turn me on to new players, just as a listener gets turned on. It’s been an amazing experience learning about these players. And I’m going to see a number of IA alums play on my book tour : Mike Vallera, Sam Moss, Wes Tirey - and I invited Jordan Norton out in Portland. Never met him or saw him play. He was fantastic. Plays this Frippy stuff.

What’s next for you and Tompkins Square?

I signed a young lady from Ireland. Very excited about her debut album, due in June. I’m reissuing two early 70’s records by Bob Brown, both produced by Richie Havens. Beautiful records, barely anyone has heard them.

[cynicalboddhisattva]

Journey to the Unmanifest

The following is a catalogue of events that transpired between August and December 2009, a time period best described as a journey into the unmanifest dimension. It was like going through a series of inner doors, so I will list them as such.

Door 1: Around August 2009 at the Atlanta Soto Zen Center. My world had just collapsed, with no career and no future as far as I was concerned. Tortured with overwhelming anxiety and unable to focus, l was willing to give meditation a shot. I had nothing else, after all.

I sat. I sat and let my mind reel. I sat and let my grief take me over. I let my fear rattle inside of my head like a screaming animal. Then, after about 3 weeks of this, 30 minutes into a wild, unbridled storm of thoughts and emotions, there it was — empty space, total silence, and complete stillness.

My breathing became deep and heavy. Flashes of red and blue lights danced against the plain white wall in front of me. With every breath the lights flashed like a strobe. It felt incredible. I wanted to feel like this all the time.

Door 2: Late October 2009. Dharma talk at the Atlanta Soto Zen Center, good old Gareth leading the chat. I was calm after a nice meditation, and I was passively taking in what was being said, only half-listening. Then he said something as he looked right at me.

“It’s amazing how people come in here and open up like a flower!” he said with joyful exuberance as he held his palm up and extended his fingers out as if they were petals opening. Then something happened. Something inside me opened. I don’t know what. I can’t explain it, because it goes beyond language. He wasn’t aware he had done anything to me, and it didn’t much matter. It was like a knot in my soul was untied. I swelled with a sense of relief as a lifetime of grief left my body.

Door 3: November 2009; I was determined to deepen whatever was happening to me. Whatever this was, I wanted to know it. I wanted to feel it inside my bones, to merge into it, to disappear into it. It was my new addiction. My time was spent meditating, trying to understand what the hell the “eightfold path” was, reading books, listening to monks on YouTube, learning about string theory —- I couldn’t get enough. Whatever got me one level deeper was what I was going to do.

Nothing else seemed to matter anymore. Looking for a job seemed absurd. Parents, friends, food, sleep, exercise —- all these things became almost irrelevant. I let it go. I let it go because I wanted to die. I wanted the death that nirvana seemed to promise.

A strange thought — it occurred to me that I wasn’t breathing—-I was being breathed by something else. What this thing was I didn’t understand, but I could see it in the mirror, staring right back at me with a mischievous, knowing smile. This is when I started to freak out a little.

What was this thing staring at me? I wanted to know it. I would meditate, body fully exposed, in front of the sliding glass door mirror in the spare bedroom. I would watch as this body inflated and deflated like a 19th century fireplace billow, abdomen distending with each inspiration. Who was the one breathing? Not me. This was something alien.

There it was again —- flashing red and blue lights with each breath, surrounding the reflection in the mirror this time. I started to feel lightheaded, like I was leaving my body. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen, so I kept backing off at this point. There was only so much at a time I could take.

I told Gareth about the mirror thing. He said not to worry — I was starting to glimpse reality and my mind was making all sorts of interpretations. I was advised not to interpret, but I did anyway.

Door 4: December 2009, Week 1. “Stillness Speaks”, by Eckhart Tolle made its way into my hands. There was something mentioned in the introduction claiming that the book was “doing its work” on me simply by holding it in my hands. Airy-fairy bullshit, I thought; but with everything that was happening I didn’t know what was bullshit anymore.

I’ll be damned — it worked. It was doing something. My senses sharpened. My mind was clearer. Everything became brighter. Fuck me, this was real.

Door 5: December 2009, Week 4, Day 1-2. Torrented “The Power of Now” and “A New Earth” on audiobook. Illegally downloading spiritual books is the best, I tell you.

Eckhart’s voice was hypnotic. I was transfixed. I would put on his audiobooks, and later his retreat talks, and lay on the floor motionless. I felt like my body and brain were being rewired by this strange German. I couldn’t tell what it was. I knew it wasn’t just the words. I wasn’t even paying attention to the words most of the time. It was something else. It was his presence. He was here, with me. Or I was there, with the retreat people and Eckhart in this virtual space.

I was in a virtual inter-dimensional space with all these people at the Eckhart Tolle retreats, someplace non-physical but very real. Maybe I was going crazy, but I was ready to go crazy if that’s what it took. Better than this shit life, I thought.

Door 6: December 2009, Week 4, Day 3-4. Time travel is real. Astral projection is real. Telepathy is real. I could feel the presence of people who were not physically there — in a way words can’t encapsulate. I would think of a person and they’d call me on cue. I could predict when my mom would call and when my cousin Daisy would call. But it was only with certain people that it worked — the people who “bought in” to the psychics and fortune tellers; my mom and my cousin Daisy. It’s like they were leaving me voicemails in a virtual space.

Door 7: December 2009, Week 4, Day 5-6. My wife is staying overnight at her sister’s, probably to get a break from my apparent insanity. I’m on the floor listening to the same Eckhart Tolle retreat recordings over and over. It was strange, because although I was listening to the same recordings on a loop, I kept hearing different words each time. It was as if, as my awareness heightened, I was able to access the next layer of the message. Each time I listened to the same recording, I heard a different layer, as if it was recorded along multiple simultaneous soundtracks, each one perceptible by a certain stage of consciousness. Different layers of the recording for different stages of consciousness. It was crazy, I know. It sounds like a conspiracy theory in the mind of a schizophrenic—hidden messages made specially for me.

As each layer was peeled back, it felt like Eckhart was speaking directly to me, along with a handful of other people, who had made it all the way down to the layer I was currently at. I knew I was getting closer to whatever this was. I also knew that only a few people ever made it this far out. Me and a handful of others were suspended in this virtual dimension, with Eckhart coaxing us still further.

Then — there was the Publix trip. It was Christmas Eve, I think. I needed to get out of the damn house. I’d been cooped up for days. But I didn’t want to break the trance I was in. I took Eckhart with me. I played Eckhart CDs on the way to Publix, and kept him playing on my headphones as I entered the store.

Things became weird. You know that Einstein thing about time being relative? It’s true. I was moving so fast that everything around me became a blur. I was in another dimension where I could move so fast that others were not aware of my presence. I got done in 30 seconds what would’ve taken me 30 minutes. I dodged around people undetected and almost teleported from aisle to aisle. Time and space didn’t even seem to apply to me. Within what seemed like 2 minutes I was back home.

I couldn’t sleep. My mind was churning. My desktop computer was also churning. I felt like it was my own brain doing that —- calculating like an overclocked processor.

Door 8: December 2009, Week 5, Day 1. My wife is back home. Early this morning, after being up all night and high on Vyvanse, the sun started to speak to me silently. It told me, in its silent language, that it would be gone soon, and that everyone in existence would soon be frozen in a cold, desolate wasteland.

I was going to die. Everyone was. I knew it. It was so, so cold outside. Everyone seemed so, so sad. I felt like people were disappearing, dying in the cold and dark nothing. The city was silent, frozen, and empty. The sun was dimming. I was so cold.

Then, for apparently no reason at all, I was Krishna. Seriously, I became motherfucking, honest-to-god, flute-playing, serene-as-fuck Krishna. And my wife was Radha, though she was unaware of it, and she just thought I was going crazy, and that she should just call my dad.

Right in the middle of my living room, between the couch and the armchair, there was a tear in the fabric of space. I could perceive it, but my wife couldn’t. It was like someone slashed up a sheet with a sword and it was leaking energy from the cosmos. Divine energy and oceanic waves of bliss were entering the room from Vrindavan or wherever the hell Krishna is from. It was unimaginable. I smiled and laughed in delight, much to my wife’s chagrin.

Then it got dark. It was nightfall, and I wasn’t sure I would ever see the sun again. I panicked, turning on all the lights. This was it — the end of everything. The sun is gone forever and we are all going to freeze in darkness.

We took a drive around the block for some reason. I can’t remember. I put my hand up in a blessing gesture as we were driving in what felt to be a completely involuntary action. I was controlling EVERYTHING. The lights, the car (obviously), the weather, the people. Holy smokes, I’m God.

But wait —- at the same time my actions seemed involuntary. Something was moving ME. I was a puppet on strings! But then I can feel the energy of the environment as my own, so I know it’s all my making. I don’t understand! Am I God, or is God controlling my body? Is it both?? This doesn’t make any fucking sense!

I’m home now. Maybe everything has really started disappearing. I need to look. Quick, to the balcony! I’m standing out in the balcony, and I start laughing like a maniac. Everything starts disappearing. The cars in the distant lot, the buildings, the parking lots, and the balcony floor right below my feet! Holy shit, it’s not real! It’s a dream....and it’s dissolving! Oblivion, here I come!

Bedtime. I’m still so cold. I think I’m dying. I AM dying. I don’t think I want to. Quick, put on your thermals, your ski socks, your ski gloves! My wife is in bed beside me. She’s concerned. My hands are turning purple. I’m shivering. I need to watch something spiritual. I need to be soothed. Netflix has a special on Ram Dass. Let’s watch that.

First camera shot, I see death. I see Shiva himself, staring through Ram Dass’ radiant blue eyes. Shiva is trying is here to finish the job. He is here to kill what’s left of me! Turn it off! I don’t want to die. Please, I don’t want to die. I’m so cold. I shiver uncontrollably. My wife suggests I try to get some sleep. I’ve been up for days. That can’t be good for me.

My wife is asleep beside me. I’m dying. I’m actually dying. I’m laying on my side, eyes open. I see a blue light completely absorb my visual field.

Then it all goes black. Just me and infinite nothingness. Everything becomes clear as I accept my own death. I see a familiar image in the midst of this infinite void. There, reclining in infinite space, mace in one hand, chakra in another, and a lotus in yet another hand, was Vishnu, the origin of all of creation. He’s there, right in front of me, and he’s ME. I’m him. I’m Vishnu.

Next to me is Saraswati, my cosmic dance partner. That’s my wife. We’ve been dancing this eternal dance since eternity was a thing. Duality, that’s what we were. Ying and yang. One becomes two; male and female, black and white, creation and destruction.

Then it all went black again, and I was alone in the nothingness. No creation, nothing to perceive, nothing to love, nothing to hate. I felt sad. I didn’t want to be alone. I asked to be let back in. I asked for my wife to be my dance partner again in this dualistic dance of creation. I didn’t want it to just be me. I needed something to perceive, or else I couldn’t know myself.

Then, gradually, I was back. I was back in my human body to play out the rest of my cosmic drama. So many questions remained. I realized that I had just started.

[theangry-ace]

short reviews of R18 drama cd

I just started drama cd a few weeks ago and I just think it’s a neat type of p0rn for someone like me. plus it’s a fun way to practice listening. if you’re interested to try drama cd as well, or just wanted a short spoiler to avoid certain red flags like rape or incest, I think I covered them.

I gave rate on story and the sex. me being myself, that’s the two main part that’s important to categorize them. I personally prefer story driven stories. I am aro but I do appreciate romance once a while.

I will mention the voice actors’ name if I like them. and I always call them by their alias, just so to be familiarize with them (so I can easily pick them out).

you can sampled almost everything from airavalky.

part 1

Ai Yume story: 4/5 icha icha; a bit too intense for me / 5 review: i can't really say what i feel for this series. there's a lot of red flags like stepsiblings(?) relationship and possessive/abusive relationship. the story itself is interesting but it gets kinda too, uhh, dark. not for a faint of heart i think.

Aka no Hanayome [finished] story: 5/5 icha icha: 4/5 review: the theme is there would be a bride bearing a mark on her person that matched the guy she's destined to marry but this time around, one girl has four marks that matched four different guys. supposedly the guys needs to, uh, get close to the girl, so the flower marks can 'bloom' and would bear the proof of the guy to inherit the family fortune or something like that. unfortunately for the girl, she suffered sudden seizures due to the 'hanayome' curse that can be calmed by... you guessed it, sex. it's silly but i think this might be the best series that i've come across so far. vol.1 (Peroperonchino) = guy is the cold prince type but gets warmer in the end. he cute once he’s not acting like a snob. vol.2 = the first son of the main family. he's a kind older brother type. he'll explained a bit about the curse thing. vol.3 (Margarine) = my favorite bc he's such a nice dude. he's a classmate of the girl and came from the branch family so he will kept on saying he want nothing with the whole 'head-of-family transfer' thingy. vol.4 = my least fav bc he's a bit of an asshole, not giving the girl the chance to say no to his advances and just do what he wanted. 

Arashi no ichiya tabi no otoko [finished] story; 2/5 icha icha; 3/5 review: two strangers taking shelter from the rain. idk i kinda expect more for some reason (since i like chasuke). the sex is pretty sudden and like there's no connection except two people sharing one space decided to sex one another.

Bed made nyan nyan wo matte kurenai [finished] story: 2/5 icha icha: 3/5 review: it's Cider being an adorable boyfriend. that's all you need to know. there's not so much of him being a cat though, just a mention of his character has a cat shirt. they missed the opportunity to make me die.

Bodyguard wa kare no iinari [finished] story: 4/5 icha icha; 3/5 review; this one surprised me since i expected the guy is the bodyguard but instead it's the girl. storywise is kinda good; a singer songwriter who can’t sleep without a girl to hug who is also threatened by a obsessed fan, so his company employ a bodyguard and so the girl character came into the picture. i’d say the story is good, the sex is unnecessary kinda.

Cafe romaana [finished, maybe] story: 3/5 icha icha: 3/5 review: it's a sweet story actually but not that special. it revolves around a coffee shop that was owned by three brothers. vol.1 - i think this is the best of the three for no reason except i like it best. girl is already in relationship with the youngest brother. his issue is being overshadowed by his two brothers but he still tries his best to follow their lead. vol.2 (Tetrapot) - girl is a waitress of the cafe. second eldest dude is trying to better his barista skill and wish to enter a... competition? vol.3 - the eldest brother who tried to date a girl who supplies the flowers to the cafe.

Calling bloom [finished, maybe] story: 4/5 icha icha: 3/5 review: the idea is like a host club but they do delivery and would fingerbang or sex with you if you ask. just the catch is not to fall in love with them. i think storywise is good. prepare to have feelings though. Hikaru (Sawa Manaka) = spoiler alert, he fell in love with the girl when he first met in a konbini before, but since hosting is his job, he can't say that so his story ends one sidedly and bittersweetly. Syu = he's the number one host of anemone. haven't really heard his side yet aside from the first track. Kaname = girl actually chose him because he looks like a anime idol character she liked, not because he was an ex idol. i kinda felt bad for him. didn’t finish his side yet. Hazime = haven’t got to this one yet.

Circle catalogue [finished, maybe] story: 4/5 icha icha: 3/5 review: about a relationship between a girl and a band member. pretty sweet but nothing special. if you just need a good story about a good relationship, this is kinda one of it. Basist (Asagi Yuu) - if asagi using his toshishita kare voice is one of your weakness, you will not survive this volume. i died three times before i even get to the icha icha scene. girl is the... manager? or at least one of the staff of the band. she wanted to quit (for a reason i dont quite catch) and dude is not okay with that. thankfully it ended quite sweetly. Leader (Kawamura) - girl is a fan of the band and is dating the leader. the couple has been troubled with physical distances between them ever since they first met and now they started to worry if their happiness won't last that long. Drummer - I’ll get to this one later.

Cream pie story; 5/5 icha icha; 3/5 review: the one thing that separates this from the other is that there is a solo masturbation scene from the dude and it kinda make me laugh even though i don't think i should. hehe. story is very close to realistic couple's problem i guess. try this if you need story. Ninomiya (domon atsushi) - this one i don't quite understand why they fight. guy wanted to find a place with elevator near his wife's work so if she got pregnant it wont be too hard on her. but she felt like he just assumed that's what she wanted???? maybe i'm too aro to understand this is reason enough to fight but i could see it happening irl. Yuuki (tetrapot) - the problem with this couple is that the girl/wife? had to work outstation for three weeks and guy was so lonely i kinda felt bad for him. poor guy he did it with her pajamaaaaa. 

Dakarete kara hajimaru koi story; 3/5 icha icha: 3/5 review: i think they're pretty sweet but not much of a story bc they’re pretty short. the one with kawamura is my favorite bc there's a cat<3 actual cat! i have a likings for a guy who gets weak around cats.

Danna-sama series story: haven't heard all of them but those i did 4/5 icha icha; 3/5 of those i've cleared review: there's a lot of volumes so kinda need a separate review for each of them but the basis is similar. sweet story. my favorite might be the one with tetrapot. he made it into my list of favorite drama cd VA because of this.

Date biyori story: 4/5 icha icha; 4/5 review: just sweet dating stories. i especially love the one with murano bc it's just so damn funny and sweet. too bad he didnt do too many titles.

Dousei kareshi story; 4/5 icha icha: 4/5 review: sweet lil story about two ppl living together. nothing really stands out but the story is good.

Enemy coupling [finished, maybe] story: 5 /5 (minus 3rd vol) icha icha: 4/5 (minus 3rd vol) review: in an AU where there's a animal/human hybrid. vol.1 (sawa manaka) = sawa as a cat can fucking end me. he's a younger boyfriend type that dates a scaredy mouse hybrid. he cute and story is actually very sweet. why cant sawa just do this type of character and nothing else??? vol.2 (murano) = dude is same age type of rabbit hybrid who dated a fox hybrid. the sex in this kinda intense... and noisy. but story is good and dude is very cute. he’s dating his fox hybrid classmate. vol.3 = a wolf teacher with his sheep students. i don't do teacherxstudent so i never got beyond the first track. sorry.

Enter the mirror [finished] story; 5/5 icha icha: get so much icha in the end esp the tokutens /5 review; in a alternate universe(?) a kingdom was destined to ruin. there's only three person who can save it and they need to find a rose fairy from a world inside the mirror to do it. story is very good but the sex gets exponentially intense in the end. there's a rapey scene in the beginning though. vol.1 (sawa manaka) = i think this is the first time i heard sawa doing fantasy and it's a good change. he's the righteous knight type. vol.2 = the magician side. he's kinda like the gentle older brother type i think. he would do anything to save his kingdom that he puts something in your food to paralyze you (to rape/unlock your rose fairy power?) but he changed his mind halfway vol.3 (peroperonchino) = the prince. storywise i like his side better since you can feel how desperate he is to save his kingdom. the tokutens sex is very very intense bc he gets jealous very easily.

[charlessizemore]

Play Music, Get Rich

As a kid, I used to tease my dad on road trips for tuning in to the classic rock station. It just seemed so stereotypically old-man-ish.

Yet as I approach my 40th birthday, and the inevitable midlife crisis that comes with it, I found myself dusting off my old Metallica And Justice for All CD for the first time in nearly 20 years – and testing the limits of my car stereo.

Hey, it could be worse. At least I didn’t blow my retirement savings on a Ferrari or run away with the secretary.

While I reminisced about my youth, our editorial director, David Dittman, mentioned that he and Metallica frontman James Hetfield both graduated from Brea-Olinda High School in the Los Angeles suburbs.

It seems that, as a young man, Mr. Hetfield already had his life mapped out. In the school’s 1981 yearbook, he listed his future plans as “Play music, get rich.”

Two years later, Metallica released its first album.

Today, with 10 studio albums, nine Grammys, and close to 2,000 (and counting) worldwide shows behind them, the American heavy metal band’s legacy is unquestioned. And Hetfield is worth an estimated $300 million, making him one of the world’s wealthiest living entertainers.

Play music, get rich.

I can’t say this is a viable career plan for those of us less talented than Mr. Hetfield. But give the man credit.

He had specific goals, and he stuck to them. He played music, and he certainly got rich.

I don’t usually look to rock stars for financial advice, but it’s worth asking: Are there any lessons we can learn from Hetfield’s success?

I can think of a few.

To start, surround yourself with smart and motivated people that you trust, and make sure that their interests are aligned with your own.

By coincidence, I met a fellow dad at my son’s school that was one of Metallica’s marketing managers in the 1990s. He told me that the band’s drummer, Lars Ulrich, would regularly show up at meetings with lists of well-prepared questions, and that he’d grill the executives over specific numbers.

Lars knew his stuff… and he was even known to whip out spreadsheets.

Longtime Metallica fans recognize Lars as the brains behind the operation… and without him, it’s likely that Hetfield would have spent his life laboring in obscurity. In fact, the band formed in 1981 when Hetfield, who had been in a few bands as a teenager, responded to a classified ad that Lars took out in the local newspaper.

Lars wasn’t working for charity, of course. He was looking to fatten his own bank account, but in doing so he helped Hetfield and the rest of the band.

So, lesson number one: Whether we’re talking about your career, or even your investment portfolio, surround yourself with smart people who are properly incentivized to help you. They win when you win.

And, number two, stick to what you’re good at… but don’t be afraid to adapt.

Most Metallica fans list Master of Puppets as their all-time favorite album and the title track as their favorite song in the entire catalogue. But the band didn’t stop there. They continued to adapt.

Two albums later they launched Metallica (the “Black Album”) and jumped from a modestly popular band with a mostly cult following to a household name and one of the most commercially successful bands in history.

They stuck with their core strengths as a metal band, but they adapted.

And, to the point about surrounding yourself with talented people that you trust, they also hired producer Bob Rock to help them refine and polish the album and really push it to reach its full potential.

In business and investing, it makes sense to stick to what you’re good at, but you should also adapt and evolve.

If you’re a talented technician or chartist, then you probably shouldn’t try to reinvent yourself as a Warren-Buffett-style value investor. But you should always look for ways to make your models better. Don’t rest on your laurels.

Finally, keep it simple and don’t over-plan.

Hetfield’s stated objective in life was to play music and get rich. Most of the rest of us probably need plans that are a little more concrete than that, but I’m a big believer in having broad, general goals while leaving yourself the flexibility to react quickly as conditions change.

German military strategist Helmuth von Moltke said, “No battle plan survives contact with the enemy.” As boxing legend Mike Tyson put it, a little less eloquently, “Everyone has a plan ‘til they get punched in the mouth.”

Looking at a less violent example, Amazon.com founder Jeff Bezos always imagined that his company would be much more than an online bookstore. He’s said that he always believed it would grow into the biggest retailer in the world.

But when he founded the company in the mid-1990s, he couldn’t have predicted that he’d eventually utilize aerial drones or that he’d copy Uber’s business model of using part-time amateur drivers with Amazon Flex. Drones and Uber hadn’t been invented yet. These were tactical moves Bezos made along the way.

In your business life and in your financial planning, you should absolutely set goals. But give yourself a little leeway in how you reach those goals; break them down into long-term “big-picture” goals and very specific and achievable short-term goals.

It’s how Hetfield and Metallica built their empire – one song at a time.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a midlife crisis to get back to. I’m going to jump back in my car and scream the words to Harvester of Sorrow for the next half hour.

Charles Sizemore Portfolio Manager, Boom & Bust Investor

Catch much more from Charles Sizemore and the rest of the Dent Research team right here at Economy and Markets!

[airadam]

Episode 132 : All Love

"They don't never see the work, only results of it."

- Rapper Big Pooh

Another month inside, and one that has been tinged with sadness; we say Rest In Power to Ty, Andre Harrell, and the soul legend Betty Wright. The month's selection starts with a favourite of mine from Ty's catalogue, and though the styles change, we keep a steady pace all the way through - I know some of you are running to try and stay in shape during this time, so I hope it helps!

Twitter : @airadam13

Twitch : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

Ty ft. Kwadjo and Michelle Escoffery : Ha Ha

"Feeling like my left toe's equal to Pele" - always loved that line, I think it's the delivery! We start off with a track from Ty's second studio album ("Upwards"), which was also on the B-side of the "Groovement" 12". From the off, he was an artist who never pretended to be anything other than who he was and represented his life with skill and humour, which is well-demonstrated here! The beat is kind of staccato, with no hi-hat between drum beats and the synth bass stabbing in hard. Wicked tune from one of our greats who will be sadly missed.

[Dante Ross] Casual : Turf Dirt (Instrumental)

The 2001 "VIP" single was dope, but the headline track was definitely an example of an artist trying to step into the unfamiliar sonic territory of the club lane! "Turf Dirt" was the last track of three, and the B-side has instrumentals of everything - in this case, Dante Ross with a stomper.

J-Live : Harder

I'd almost forgotten about this one until it turned up as part of the vinyl digitisation project! A 2005 single release from "The Hear After", this is a loud and proud statement of intent from one of the hardest-working artists in the business. The beat is courtesy of the five-headed production team "The Fire Dept", who also did some work for GZA the same year and have also performed as his live band.

Conway the Machine : Be Proud Of Me

Buffalo's Conway is an artist who knows of the life that he speaks, and this is a really personal track. He's clawed his way up to a career as a respected MC, but as you can hear, not everyone with him was really with him as he tried to make it. Khrysis is on production, giving this real-life story an appropriately downbeat backing, on the penultimate cut on "EIF 2 : Eat What U Kill".

Big Twan ft. Big Kwam : The Hellgate Rebel

This track has some of my favourite scratches on a rap record of all time, with Tony Vegas of the Scratch Perverts flaring out in an ill fashion! The deep listeners might know Big Twan from his debut professional appearance, a verse on Big L's "8 Iz Enuff", but the "One Time 4 The Lyricist" 12" is his sole vinyl release as a soloist. The main track is heavy, and having this on there as well makes the vinyl a great addition to your library. It's a meeting of the Bigs, with Twan sharing mic time with the UK MC Big Kwam over a killer beat from The Creators - the horns and bass might be the drivers, but check the plucked guitar-type sounds all over the verses too. 

Genaside II ft. Eek-A-Mouse : Just As Rough

The UK's Genaside II were a really unique crew who had Hip-Hop, rave, jungle, and more in their stylistic blend. In various combinations and configurations since the 90s, they've been a low-key influence on quite a few big names, despite being unknown to many! This track is from their debut "New Life 4 The Hunted", and features the legendary reggae artist Eek-A-Mouse on vocals, telling a story of a hard life on the streets. If you've got the ear for something a bit different - especially if you like D&B or breakbeat - then the album is well worth picking up if you see it.

Blue Stone : Lost Sun

This is probably a bit "New Age"-y and ambient for some if heard in isolation, but I think it fits well here! It's got a little bit of a north African/Arab vibe to the drums at the start, and builds up from a gentle start to a thundering peak before easing back down. It's one of the many well-produced tracks on the 2007 "Worlds Apart" LP.

The Mouse Outfit ft. One Only : Sunrise

Brand new single, and perfect for the season! An all-Manchester affair with One Only showing versatility on the mic, and Chini and Metrodome taking the production reins. A welcome return, no doubt.

Pitch 92 ft. Tyler Daley : Confused

Chilled again, Manchester again, this time from the "3rd Culture" album from last year. Pitch 92 showed the talent from early in his career, and the release of his producer project was great to see.  If you're looking for top-shelf local mic expertise, Tyler Daley should be one of the first names on the list, and you get him switching effortlessly between the bars many don't recognise him for and the singing voice that they do.

Black Star ft. Black Thought : Respiration (Pete Rock Remix)

No doubt, the original "Respiration" from the "Mos Def & Talib Kweli are Black Star" LP is a great track. But how do you make it better? First off, bring in Black Thought, one of those who could be described as "your favourite MC's favourite MC". That kicks things up a notch. Not enough? Ok, why not bring Pete Rock in to remix it? This should be illegal. Brilliant re-working of the 1998 classic, which I'm pulling from the "4 Pete Sake" (bootleg?) remix compilation, but which is also on the B-side of the main single. 

Camp Lo : Life I Love

I absolutely loved the "Ragtime Hightimes" album, and while there are many tracks that are more of an immediate sonic hit, this one is a quiet killer. This is a group who need to be called in to score a heist movie, as they drop slang-heavy, super-dense rhymes about a glamourised crime life all over a Ski beat that's as cool as the other side of the pillow.

[Prince Kaysaan] Royal Flush : Can't Help It (Instrumental)

Kaysaan's run may "only" have been a few releases between 1997 and 1998, but he forever gets props for this one from "Ghetto Millionaire" alone. The combo of an 80s R&B sample with the filter coming in and out together with crispy jazz-sourced drums made this a late 90s winner that I'm happy to throw on a mixtape anytime.

Kris Kross ft. Da Brat, Aaliyah, Jermaine Dupri, and Mr Black: Live and Die for Hip-Hop (DJ Clark Kent Mix)

RIP Chris Kelly, gone seven years as of this month. Most people don't even realise that Kris Kross continued to record after their "Jump" and "I Missed The Bus" days, but they did indeed, and this is a remix of a track from their third and final album, 1996's "Young, Rich, & Dangerous". Laid back, cooled out, but in a different and even better-done fashion to the LP version - that bass flavour is definitely working.

Little Brother : Work Through Me

The return of Little Brother last year was much-welcomed by those who've been with them since the beginning, and they are standouts when it comes to bringing the changes in their lives into the music. This is a track about not just their own music career, but getting up every day and doing your best - which is pretty appropriate right now. Phonte and Rapper Big Pooh have continued to improve with age, and while 9th Wonder didn't join them this time, Focus and BlaaqGold slay this bumping and soulful beat.

Reks : Due Diligence

The "Revolution Cocktail" album by Reks seems to have all but disappeared - you won't find it on Spotify, and I can't find it on Amazon or other download sites either. It's a shame, as I think he had some high-quality tracks on there. I don't have a producer credit for this, but the beat was what drew me in first. You can almost hear Reks warming up on the first few bars before he hits his stride and brings it home. The Massachusetts native is incredibly slept on, even after twelve albums - but I appreciate the grind.

Boyz II Men ft. Erick Sermon, Redman, Keith Murray, and 2 Ta Da Head : Vibin' (Kenny Smoove Remix)

As @DragonflyJonez recently suggested, you might not be able to think of any gatherings where it was demanded that Boyz II Men be put on, but this might be an exception! Kenny Smoove was part of the Untouchables collective that also included Eddie F, Dave "Jam" Hall, and one Pete Rock, and he did his thing on this remix. Granted, I'm not exactly Mr R&B, but this slaughters the original, not least because he brings in heavy artillery - the whole Def Squad, headed up by Erick Sermon. There's a whole 12" of remixes that this is drawn from, should you want to hear some alternative takes!

Ilajide : Mothership Connection 1-2

Detroit in the house, with the trademark bump of Clear Soul Forces' Ilajide, from his killer 2015 "Latex" LP.

Bronx Slang : Excuse Me Officer

We close with a great track from 2019's debut LP from the link up of Jerry Beeks and Ollie Miggs - Bronx Slang. If you're very eagle-eared, you'll recognise a couple of these bars from the track I did with Jerry Beeks ("I'm A Cop"), which is on episode 86 of the podcast! Sadly, as this topic continues to be relevant, new names enter the roll of the fallen, and Beeks expands still further on police violence.

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!

[radiogemini-blog]

Hurt to Look (feat. Rae Sremmurd) - Swae Lee

—————————————

Rae Sremmurd are on the verge of dropping their third release, and it’s hella ambitious. Not only will we get a Rae Sremmurd album, but the package will also include solo records from Swae Lee and Slxm Jxmmy. This three disc set is something that’s never been done before by a duo (Outkast did two solo records, but we didn’t get a full record of collaborations from them with Speakerboxxx//The Love Below. That record was the last hip hop album to win album of the year and is also one of the last records to go diamond though (10x Platinum)). There’s definitely streaming implications here - more songs means more listens which means more sales but these are issues we’ve seen before (i.e. Migos, Drake). Even Outkast going diamond with that two disc set has some politics to it because every sale of the record translated to two cd’s sold (but it’s a classic and Outkast is still the best hip hop duo we’ve seen since then). Swae Lee and Slxm Jxmmy are trying to build a catalogue to give them a run for their money though. The singles we’ve gotten so far are great showings for both artists and the guest list for Sremm Life 3 is sure to be bananas. Hearing this record in particular makes me really happy that Swae Lee is making music. It took a few listens for this one to grow on me, but after hearing so many of his unforgettable hooks, it’s really awesome to see him get some time to do his thing on his own songs. Last but no least, they’re gonna be on tour with Childish Gambino and they’re hoping to record a whole album on the road. So we have all that to look forward to too. Despite the world seeming to be out of sorts at times, I think we’re lucky to be living when all these artists (and athletes; Have you seen LeBron/Harden this year???) are alive.

[tgaoe]

Andy’s 2017 Music Report

Favorite Albums, Favorite Songs, and other assorted temporally-specific ramblings.

Preamble

I. Dearth I listened to less music this year than I did last year, partly due to the immense amount of time required to finish my Master’s Degree, and also because I slept better. You may recall from last year’s treatise that I experienced something of a listening renaissance late in the year, turning to music during nights spent sleepless for work-related anxiety. 2017 marked my fourth year in my current job, and the first during which I began to feel confident in my own professional competence. Hence, less anxiety, fewer sleepless nights, less music. So it goes.

II. Duplicity, Disaffection Another reason. Prior to November 21st, I spent an inordinate amount of time listening to a single band, the band that made my #1 record from 2016. They were also my most-listened to band of 2017. I went deep into their back catalogue, full immersion, and I found such joy and pleasure in doing so. The band helped me through a fraught, life-altering personal ordeal. I traveled to see them play and it was cathartic. However, on 11/21 it was revealed that the leader of that band may have betrayed much of what he/they claimed to have stood for as steadfast advocates for kindness, equity, and empathy. The woman or women he hurt are the primary victims, but secondarily his hypocrisy destroyed a community of people who connected strongly with his music. I believe in rehabilitation. But I also doubt I’ll ever be able to listen to this band the same way again, if at all. I share this troubling information because it undoubtedly colors this list. For weeks after the revelation I only listened to songs sung by women, maybe to offset the damage somehow, maybe to avoid connecting with another secretly awful man.

III. Disappointment Last year I wrote extensively about how the absence of releases from legacy acts resulted in my exposure to an unusually large number of new/emerging artists. That trend of exposure continued this year, for unfortunate reasons. Most new releases by old favorites proved little more than pleasant. Though something like 20 albums from 2017 fall into that category, only five or six made my list of favorites, and even some of those did so despite caveats. I suspect this may have to do with the current circumstances of my life more than with the music itself, at least in some cases. For instance, Sleep Well Beast will not appear below, but I am the only National devotee I know who doesn’t love it as much as their previous records. Time will tell, I suppose.

IV. Derelict I devoted significantly less time to this project this year than I did to its previous iterations, probably 20 hours vs. the usual 40-60. I usually track favorites all year and begin writing in October. This year I was much less diligent, not commencing writing until mid-December. It shows, I’m afraid. I did not keep an actual Favorite Songs list, nor did I keep a running record of micro-moments.

Blame the Master’s. Over five months of work my research project ballooned to 18,415 words spanning 118 pages—characteristically about twice as long as it needed to be. It’s a mystery how I mustered the energy to eke out another 6000 words for this thing after all that.

V. Dingus As always, forgive my assumption that readers of this monstrosity possess a certain level of familiarity with prevailing music culture. The writing reads better that way. Also as always, please forgive the preposterous pretense that anyone would want to read this, the bloviations of yet another obsessive 30-something white man desperate for your attention.

My 19 Favorite Albums of 2017

19 favorites because 19 was how many favorites I had.

19 The World’s Best American Band White Reaper Big, stupid, shameless riff rock; a record as fun as its title is ridiculous. The band almost has the chops to live up to it too, blazing through ten hook-dense, hedonistic rockers with fatalistic abandon. No introspection here, folks. The only lesson White Reaper has to impart is, “If you make the girls dance, the boys will dance with ‘em.” Noted, dudes.

18 Cigarettes After Sex Cigarettes After Sex How to Make the Sexiest Music Ever, Apparently

1) Start with early Interpol. 2) Slow it down. 3) Tighten it up. 4) Strip away the fuzz. 5) Replace Paul Banks with Greg Gonzalez, a man whose smoky, sultry voice I mistook for a woman's until just now. 6) Drop the nonsense lyrics in favor of straightforward stories, proclamations, and invitations, all specific and intimate like the first xx record.

The result: a collection of variations on "Fade Into You" sans twang. Almost unfathomably sexy. The sexiest.

17 The Nashville Sound Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit I don’t love this album, but I do love all its songs. The Nashville Sound should have been a solo record with an accompanying full-band live release a few months later. The 400 Unit is so talented, so utterly professional that they can’t help but sound canned, over-produced, in a modern studio. Any old band off the street can be made to sound that way. What makes the Unit special is that this is how they sound live. They sound perfect. Perfection on record isn’t much fun.

Jason Isbell is the best songwriter of his generation. Case in point: Leonard Cohen’s “Chelsea Hotel No. 2,” his best song and a contender for best song by anyone, famously concludes with the couplet, 

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel That's all, I don't think of you that often

Isbell manages to casually convey the same sentiment through implication on Sound’s “Molotov”: 

Another life but I still remember A county fair in steamy September In the Year of the Tiger, nineteen-something

He remembers, but not that well, not the year. He doesn’t think of her that often.

16 Need Your Love Sheer Mag The opening salvo of “Meet Me in the Street” and the sort-of title track tells you everything you need to know about Need Your Love, the surprising segue of anthemic nails-hard rebel rock into heartfelt, slinky soul-funk. Sheer Mag is everything 70s rock, all facets, plain and simple, in timbre, tone, and demeanor, fitted to modern pop structure and sensibility. Massive riffs, throaty hollers, cavernous sonics, never not danceable. The last 40 years never happened.

15 Something to Tell You Haim Four years ago I passionately engaged in a pointless internet debate on the false premise of the superiority of Haim vs. Lorde. Of course this was less about the actual artists than it was the debaters’ desperation for validation of our own tastes and preferences at the expense of others’, which is a stupid thing insecure young white men do for some reason. However, looking back now and comparing the two entities’ work and public personas does reveal fascinating differences in their approaches and cultural placements, especially considering the rollouts and receptions of both artists’ follow-up records. I’ll write more about Lorde later (spoiler), but she crafts songs that achieve timelessness and universality seemingly unintentionally, through trope subversion and highly specific and personal writing. Haim achieves the same through something like the opposite approach.

Every Haim song feels like a glossy new product behind a high-end shop window, displayed uniformly, calculated and designed for maximum value and mass appeal. I’ve said this before, but Haim recordings sound like money, sound expensive. Because they are. Haim recordings are light, airy, sleek, tight, and huge. The lyrics strive for universality by exploring standard romantic emotional states in the most vague, impersonal, situationally unspecific possible manner. We do not know the identity of the “you” in these songs. Hell, we don’t really who the “I” is. We can project whoever we want. These songs are perfect manufactured products. That may read as negative criticism, but it is not. The total orderliness of Haim songs forces order on anarchy. Haim songs make the world simple, make it make sense. Every question has an answer, every problem a solution.

There is an exception that proves the rule here, a more experimental Haim song that towers above the others by subverting those established expectations of order, transcends them to depict in actuality the true messiness of love. That song is “Right Now,” and it is a monster jam, likely the best song Haim has ever written. The structure is confounding, the melodies don’t time out naturally, nothing musically makes sense, is rational, in the same way feelings don’t and aren’t. There is a call-and-response with which it is almost impossible to sing along because the response comes in like half a beat later than every other pop song has trained us to expect. Feedback blares, clicks click, hums hum. “Right Now” is imperfect, and in that it is the most perfect Haim song. It came not from an assembly line, it came from a soul. Or souls. “Right Now” even allows a single reference to an actual specific event, a quiet conversation overheard through a window, which, even though still somewhat vague, gives the song a level of personal meaning to the narrator missing from, you know, every other Haim song. More like this please.

By the way, this short PTA-directed performance film is incredible, and suggests that everything I wrote in that second paragraph may be negated when the band plays live.

14 Graveyard of Good Times Brandon Can’t Dance Brandon Ayers's collection of mom's basement DIY songs plays as much like a friend's great mix cd as it does a solo artist's album, intuitively-sequenced and formally experimental in the sense that the dude seemingly tries any musical idea that occurs to him, and there are so many here: stoned weirdo neo disco, 80s soft rock, wall-of-sound shoegaze, earnest folk, synthy dance rock, 90s industrial and more, all effortless, catchy and united aesthetically by competent use of limited production resources. Ayers's lyrics are always either smart or hilariously, knowingly dumb as he explores a kind of mundanity inherent to a life of low-budget hedonism, as well as how much he loves his dogs, mom, sister, and grandma. Can't go wrong with that.

13 Villains Queens of the Stone Age Josh Homme and Britt Daniel have much in common culturally, both mid-40s men who have spent nearly two decades each as highly unlikely sex symbols, sustaining multi-decade rock careers, stalking stages with maniacal, borderline-predatory confidence. But musically they’ve shared few qualities until now. Villians has airless, precise grooves similar to some Spoon records, but, you know, with that Queens menace and evil. The QoTSA has always been a band about perfect playing, but this time Homme brought in preeminent funk racketeer Mark Ronson to help shape Villains. The result is the shortest, most accessible record the band has ever made. Actually, it is not the shortest—it just feels that way. Villians cooks, showcasing the same old Queens, aggressively showy and prone to extended digressions, but with arrangements more focused, lightweight, and compressed than ever before.

Make sure you stick around for the entire song. Trust me.

12 I Love You Like a Brother Alex Lahey What is happening in Australian that the country keeps producing these witty, confident female punk singer/songwriters? Alex Lahey’s style certainly mines a similar humorous vain to Courtney Barnett, but her approach is more energetic and less erudite. I always feel held at a distance by Barnett’s music; listening to it is almost a purely intellectual exercise. Lahey’s, however, has a casual immediacy that makes me want to smile and laugh and dance.

The title track is both punk as hell and sticky-sweet, a genuine love song from a sister to a brother, insanely catchy and refreshingly sincere. I am no one’s sister, and my brother and I, though we love each other, have never had a connection quite like the one Lahey documents here. Still, I so feel this jam. It follows the album’s opener, “Every Day’s the Weekend,” an actual love song, albeit one about having fallen for a broke, emotionally elusive charmer. “Fuck work, you’re here, every day’s the weekend,” is lyric of such powerful brevity, so effectively conveying the feeling during those times when someone exciting has unexpectedly exploded into your life. The hilarious “Perth Traumatic Stress Disorder,” another gatestormer, follows, and then the album starts to mutate into something more complex and interesting.

I Love You Like a Brother begins as an aggressive punk record, but slowly warps into atmospheric, radio-ready stadium rock. On a couple occasions this may be to its detriment, but as a whole the album serves as a solid testament to Lahey’s versatility as a writer. The lyrics of “Awkward Exchange” are comparatively anonymous to the earlier tracks, but the open sound, dynamic structure, and wordless chants beg for massive festival singalongs. It might happen. It should happen. The two approaches combine on “Lotto in Reverse,” perhaps Lahey’s greatest triumph here, an inward-focused dirge grafted onto a massive, hooky rock song that more than earns its prominent placement on Spotify’s Badass Women playlist.

11 Go Farther in Lightness Gang of Youths Christian music is terrible, almost all of it. Not just because it all still sounds like U2, but because none of it deigns to explore actual life as a flawed human who happens to be Christian. This is so intentionally. The Christian music industry is insidiously Randian; cynical and deplorable. Gang of Youths is fighting back, hard.

Singer/songwriter David Le'aupepe is a vulgar spiritualist, kind of a like an Australian David Bazan or Sufjan Stevens in the way he publicly struggles to reconcile his faith with his human proclivities. His studious lyrics often recall very early Bruce Springsteen, with their expansive vocabulary and wide-ranging cultural literacy. The band met in church (like U2!), yet the man swears with relish and documents his perceived failings as well as his issues with the spirtual institution to which he belongs. Get a load of this, from “Perservere,” which is actually my least favorite song on the album:

But God is full of grace and his faithfulness is vast There is safety in the moments when the shit has hit the fan Not some vindictive motherfucker, nor is he shitty at his job What words to hear, and I’m a mess by now 'Cause nothing tuned me in to my failure as fast As grieving for a friend with more belief than I possessed

Imagine that at Sunday service! If all Christian music was this nuanced and genuinely introspective then, well, Christian music wouldn’t be a ghetto. It would just be more music.

This album is long, almost feature-length, most of its 16 songs stretching beyond five minutes. Fortunately, the wealth of ideas and arrangements sustain the length, if only just barely. Gang of Youths are adventurously egalitarian in their consummate unoriginality, adamantly subscribing to the notion of Ecclesiastes 1:9, content to let Le’aupepe’s compelling narratives give the band identity as their arrangements freely pillage ideas from the most successful indie rock bands of the last decade, mostly those who can now fill arenas; the Killers, the National, Arcade Fire, Bon Iver, LCD Soundsystemm Bloc Party. My favorite songs here pound forward relentlessly like Titus Andronicus. On some songs Le’aupepe’s words tumble out uncontrollably like Gareth Campesinos, on others his voice could be mistaken for Matt Berninger’s low growl.

Also, I’d be remiss to not mention how appealing I find it that there are no white people in this band. It’s rare and refreshing to hear this kind of massive music from a cultural perspective so different then my own.

10 Hot Thoughts Spoon Spoon is a band of consummate constants and variables. The band knows exactly what defines it, what listeners like, and they always deliver while also changing just enough to surprise. Every record, every song, reliably has three particular elements: an airtight hard rhythm groove, simple, catchy, repetitive; a masterful command of pop structure; and Britt Daniel’s enigmatic brand of ultracool, vaguely sexual vocal swagger. The other sounds around those elements, the atmospheres and tones, change with each record. Hot Thoughts delves deeper into the psychedelic G-funk timbres the band played with some on They Want My Soul, as Daniel continues to explore nonthreatening, acceptable ways to express desire. In short, it’s another Spoon record, and it rules.

9 Strangers in the Alps Phoebe Bridgers I keep coming back to lyrics. Lyrics draw me in like nothing else, the more smart, personal, and specific the better. Lyrics don’t come more specific and personal and smart than Phoebe Bridgers’s. She tells vivd stories, recounts memories of events and emotions by conjuring indelible, detailed settings and images with devastating depths of feeling, mostly over quiet, close-miced acoustic guitars underlaid with noninvasive strings and other atmospherics. Prepare to be haunted.

Though she sometimes doesn’t bother and the songs don’t suffer for it, as on the incredible “Smoke Signals,” Bridgers can also write the hell out of a chorus. Try not to get “Motion Sickness” stuck in your mind.

Strangers in the Alps does take a production risk I would understand some finding off-putting. Sometimes sound effects supplement and/or match lyrical events; a plane flying overhead, a boot crunching leaves, the kind of thing. It’s strange at first, but ultimately sets the album apart from others by similarly earnest stool-seated strummers.

8 Near to the Wild Heart of Life - year’s best title Japandroids I’ve seen this band play three times. The third was this year. Those previous had been with friends, and before the shows we drank and goofed around, celebrating our affection for each other and getting just the right level of lit up. This year I took a vacation day from my professional job, drove to St. Louis alone, and waited in line alone while reading a screenplay by one of the guys I used to go to shows with, eventually watching the show alone while nursing a single beer. It wasn’t the same. But it was still good.

Japandroids write what they know. Seven years ago what they knew resulted in a masterpiece, an album more relatable to me at the time than any other. Indeed, Celebration Rock remains my all-time favorite record, its ragged, propulsive riffage and emotional narratives of kinetic nights with close friends still have the power to take me back to that time, when I had more energy and a will to wildness. However, over the long interim between albums, the Japandroids’ lives and mine ceased to resemble each other. My closest friends moved. I have bills and a career and a generally pleasant, stable life—one distinctly not wild. Meanwhile, those dudes are evidently still globetrotting, every night out there swilling top-shelf tequila to nurse the heartache of intercontinental romance, living hard and loving harder. I no longer relate. As a listener I’m an observer now when I was once a participant. However, while I don’t connect with latter day Japandroids experientially, in a way the fact that Wild Heart still plays great for me despite that suggests that Japandroids is a legitimately great band on a musical level, rather than one just great for its ability to bash out messy, meaningful feelings..

These dudes are not shy about their laziness as songwriters, at least in terms of prolificacy. They release music as soon as they’ve reached the requisite minimum quantity of great songs, and it takes them forever to do so. Like the two previous Japandroids records, Wild Heart has only eight tracks, and they cheat even to amass that many. While Celebration Rock included a (totally awesome, raucous, thematically-appropriate) cover song, this time one Wild Heart track is an interlude, barely a song (“I’m Sorry [for Not Finding You Sooner]”), and another is just bad, sounding like a high school garage band trying hard to write a Japandroids song (“Midnight to Morning”). They really shouldn’t have let that one through. But man, the other six songs still kill with the same ferocity as before, some with an increased sense of melody and hook, and they all sound great live and feel great to shout along with, which, let’s be honest, is mainly what this band is for, and has always been for. The shouting just means a little less to me now.

7 Don’t Be a Stranger Nervous Dater Rachel Lightner has the gift, my favorite gift. She expels what she considers her worst qualities, and she does it through great songs; extremely catchy, smart, driving, dynamic punk songs. She does it publicly, with casual confidence. She makes it look easy and, most importantly, normal. Feeling how she feels is not unique. Sharing those feelings legitimizes them, creates a community around them. I mean, look at these lines:

Cause when things get quiet I feel uneasy I need my friends or at least just the sound of the TV To keep these things in my head from screaming “You’re inadequate! You’re a piece of shit! You could run forever but you’d never get away with it! And if people really knew who you were, They’d probably cover up the ground that you walk on with spit!”

If you can’t relate, then I envy you. If you can, and if you like punk, you need this band.

The players behind Lightner are also great, building arrangements that match incidental turns in the lyrics. The lines above are from the title track. Listen for how the song bends and nearly breaks as the narrative does the same, then recovers before almost breaking again. The band follows a formula, each instrument doing a specific job. Drums, bass, and one guitar lock into rhythm, while a lead guitar incessantly plays highly-involved tasto solo hooks. The band rarely veers from its set aesthetic, and when it does, it does so with purpose.

Occasionally a male member of the band will cameo, supplementing Lightner’s self-excoriations with early-2000s emo-screaming in the background. It’s a signifier that, intentionally or not, effectively ties Lightner’s music back to that era, an era that very intentionally excluded and delegitimized women’s voices. As has been proven time and time again in recent years, that was stupid. Women do it better. The contemporary women making emotional, personal punk music are doing it so well that nobody’s come up with a term like “emo” to dismiss it. I love being alive right now.

6 Big Fish Theory Vince Staples For when people ask what kind of music I like, that impossible question almost only asked by those who do not share the obsession, I have developed a stock answer of surprising accuracy. The smartest versions of punk, rap, and country. Country is a fudge, designed to open up a conversation about what “smart” country is. Dorks call it “alt-country.” Anyway. That’s a separate essay. You may have noticed that Big Fish Theory is the first rap record on this list. I am not tapped in to most contemporary rap. The slow, repetitive codeine scene doesn’t do it for me, and rap is more about single songs and premium playlist placement than it is about albums now. The album-focused rappers are dinosaurs. Four fossil-rap acts made solid records this year, and three made my list. Ranking them was difficult, and I am not at all confident in my final assessments. Vince Staples could have ranked highest another day.

Some days I like Big Fish Theory more than DAMN. Vince Staples’ world is less complicated, more concentrated and angry. Some days unnuanced anger is what I want. For fuel. Case in point, compare the two’s thoughts on the President and the country. First, Kendrick, hinting and contemplative:

Homicidal thoughts; Donald Trump's in office We lost Barack and promised to never doubt him again But is America honest, or do we bask in sin?

And Vince:

Tell the President to suck a dick, because we on now Tell the one percent to suck a dick, because we on now Tell the government to suck a dick, because we on now

And, of course, both men appear on “Yeah Right,” every bit as glorious a linguistic whirlwind as could be expected.

Also, I don’t know another rapper more musically experimental, forward-thinking, and adventurous than Vince Staples, including Kendrick. Vince is admirably without ego here (humble!); often letting the music overtake his voice, having faith in listeners to look up his words if they so desire. Much of Big Fish Theory is essentially modernized Chicago house with rapping, while also proudly West Coast. And it bangs, hard.

5 Melodrama Lorde This one took time. It took reading younger people’s perspectives to appreciate, grow to love. The first listen felt cold, staid. Pure Herione had been an instant rush, a loud announcement of a new, exciting pop personality, fully steeped in enthusiastically appropriated pop tropes of the time and letting Ella Yelich-O'Connor’s novel personality shine atop it all. Melodrama is different. She doesn’t shine, she seethes and writhes. She’s growing up in front of us, with surprising, precocious wisdom and emotional maturity.

There is nothing particularly contemporary about the sound of Melodrama. It’s less jokey, more earnest than Pure Heroine. And ultimately, despite that it does not provide the same sugary pleasure rush of its predecessor, Melodrama is far superior. It doesn’t sound like a time period, it sounds like first love and first heartbreak, because it is the manifestation of those. It sounds timeless, orchestral without an orchestra, because it is those things.

One track is a notable exception to the timelessness, and that makes it almost impossibly special. I will elucidate later in the Favorite Songs section.

4 DAMN. Kendrick Lamar Has there ever been an artist so deft at balancing/blending pure creative expression with commercialism? Until DAMN., Kendrick had achieved that balance through compartmentalization, by creating knotty, esoteric records, masterpieces, while also featuring on the most crass chart-bait singles imaginable. Another case in point: Kendrick made “For Free?” and appeared on the “Shake it Off” remix the same year. DAMN. inextricably fuses the two compartments without compromise. Almost every second of the album is both at once. Every song has earworm hooks and brain-breaking lyrical density. The record is jammed with potential singles, yet still works as a whole… even when listening to the tracks in reverse order. All hail. DAMN. is unquestionably the best album of the year, but even so, and even though I flew 1500 miles to see him play it live his hometown… it is not my favorite this year. DAMN. somehow isn’t even my favorite rap record, a late-breaking change-of-heart that took me by surprise.

3 RTJ3 Run the Jewels It’s too long. Let’s get that out of the way. But it’s all essential. For months I said that cutting “Hey Kids” and “Thieves!” would have made a better record. I was wrong. “Hey Kids” is the weakest track, for sure, but Killer Mike’s verse is straight up canonical, despite the relative frivolity of El-P’s bars and the idiocy of Danny Brown’s feature. “Thieves!,” on the other hand, after some close-listening and Genius deep-diving, is one of RTJ3’s best tracks, a massively ambitious dystopian sci-fi narrative that subtly riffs on Hamlet. Part of that ambition is manifested in a structure quite different from the straightforward presentations we’re used to from these guys; listening without the proper context doesn’t provide the furious pleasure typically associated with Run the Jewels.

Killer Mike & El-P were in an unenviable position prior to releasing this album. RTJ1 surprised everyone, even its makers; a no-stakes lark that happened to be much better and more special than that due simply to the sheer volume of talent involved. Expectations for RTJ2 had been high as a result, and they were exceeded as the band chose to treat the project with seriousness and gravity, leveraging their newfound fame and cultural relevance/reverence for conscientious advocacy. The result, RTJ2, is an unimpeachable classic, one I will listen to for the rest of my life. How could they top it, or even match it, without repeating themselves? By ratcheting up the ambition even further, and with it the risk.

Run the Jewels had been many things on their first two records; angry, funny, aggressive, stoned. Introspective was rarely one of those things. On RTJ3, the duo turn their focus inward, exploring feelings, emotions, and motivations as they apply to the external world in a manner they had never done previously. They also continue to make hilarious dick jokes.

The first and last four tracks are the best work they’ve ever done, the bookends especially. I didn’t appreciate just how great “Down” is until seeing the group close a couple live sets with it. The friends with whom I saw those shows and I were confused by that choice, but it caused us, or me at least, to listen to the song differently, to consider it as the type of song to close a set. Turns out, the choice was a great one. This band has become a band about hope manifested as anger and action, and no track conveys that notion better than “Down,” no RTJ album does it better than their third.

2 Turn Out the Lights Julien Baker Julien Baker creates stadium soundscapes using only a clean electric guitar and/or piano filtered through looping pedals. Many artists try this and fail. Especially in a live setting, it’s a cynical trick often deployed to impress perceived plebes, as I’ve seen Ed Sheerhan and, sadly, Elvis Costello, do in person. But for Julien Baker it is not a trick. It is seamless, unnoticeable; technical mastery not for its own sake, for impressing an audience, but for empowering expressions of deep feeling.

Turn Out the Lights is so much more than its production and arrangements, however. Baker is one of the most talented living writers, singers, and performers. Her percussion-less, entirely solo arrangements exist only to serve the themes of her songs. She’s one woman, onstage or on record, alone with the power of a full orchestra as she looses her interior on the world, her battles with addiction and depression, her fight to square an existence as a Christian and queer person, and her longing search for love and meaning through it all, the constant quest to hurt less.

1 After the Party The Menzingers If this were a list of “best” rather than “favorite” albums of the year, After the Party would be much lower, possibly not even included. There’s nothing innovative or original happening here, nothing generation-defining, no new ideas or calls to revolution. But there is an endless well of energy, feeling, and hyper-competent rock musicianship. The Menzingers have one of the most able rhythm sections working, serving the songs of two extraordinary writers, who seem incapable of picking up guitars without creating stadium punk hooks as indelibly catchy as they are heavy. This is smart, pure, meat-and-potatoes rock music, the meatiest and starchiest.

Beyond the wholly satisfying drive and force of the band on a primal musical level, these dudes have a real working-class, post-religious Midwestern mentality, despite hailing a little too far east to fully qualify. Many of these songs deal with how to gracefully age and settle while maintaining an uncommon resistance to traditional values. It should come as no surprise how strongly I relate. Earlier I mentioned Japandroids, how their initial records depicted the romance of early-20s debauchery and intense friendship. The true triumph of After the Party is how the The Menzingers manage to write about moving forward, building lives with partners, embracing careers and domesticity while also looking back fondly at bygone wild days without romanticizing them, fully owning that a calmer life is a better one, but allowing that the past was pretty damn fun.

After the Party may not become a timeless classic like other records on this list might, but this year it was the album to which I connected most. It was, and is, mine.

A Few of My Favorite Songs of 2017

8/7 “Truth Hurts”/“Water Me” Lizzo Lizzo should be a huge star. She’s like André 3000 good. She’s my Beyoncé.

Including these songs here is like an honorary Favorite Album spot. I listened to the two singles back-to-back more times than I did most albums this year. Lizzo has talent in excess of her excess of confidence and swagger.

Music journalists could not shut up about the two times Rihanna rapped on record this year, a little on the Kendrick album and on the only good 45 seconds of the N.E.R.D. album. Both instances earned effusive and universal praise. It bothers me that Lizzo doesn’t get that type of attention. She raps, sings, and writes far better than Rihanna, better than most pop stars working, really, and she often does it all in the same song, the same line.

“Truth Hurts” is a total kiss-off rap banger, insidiously catchy as it deconstructs and rebuilds the chorus of “Black Beatles” into something much better and exponentially more driving than its lugubrious origin. “Water Me” is an aggressive funk jam that Lizzo goes nuts over, showing off the full range of her voice, trying about a hundred different modulations and weird ideas. They all work, and together form some truly transcendent pop.

Check out her older stuff too, including a couple unlikely collaborations with Sadie Dupois from Speedy Ortiz (!) for my punk friends.

7 “What Can I Do If the Fire Goes Out?” Gang of Youths This isn’t another “Younger Us,” a song that so fully represents a period of my life that the opening chords still sometimes have the power to make me tear up. But it does take me be back to another time, and moves me in a similar way to the Japandroids classic. I haven’t told many people about this, but though I didn’t openly quit the church until a few months after graduating high school, I had struggled to maintain faith for a few years, even while playing in a devoutly evangelical Christian rock band.

“What Can I Do If the Fire Goes Out?” takes me back to a specific morning, a bone-cold, see-your-breath morning, driving to school my sophomore or junior year, listening to the first song from the second Spoken album and weeping at the lyrics’ longing prayer for help and guidance. In hindsight, Spoken made objectively bad music; comically derivative and poorly-structured. Throughout the Gang of Youths album, and especially on “Fire,” similar sentiments are explored and depicted more articulately, with far superior musical acumen. I’ll never believe again, but it’s nice to be made to have those feelings again, to experience unforced sympathy for another’s spiritual struggle.

6 “Right Now” Haim See the last paragraph of the Haim album entry above.

5 “Even” Julien Baker Julien at her most simple, most distilled, uncharacteristically just 4/4 quarter-note strumming an acoustic guitar, showing us that her layered productions would be nothing without the powerful songs beneath them. And what a song, karmic allusions and memories of conflicts.

It's not that I think I'm good I know that I'm evil I guess I was trying to even it out

Yeesh.

4 “Supercut” Lorde That word, and its power. Until recently no expression or single word existed to describe that wistful wash of isolated, curated romantic memories, warm-tinted flashes of the loveliest tiny moments of a lost relationship, ignoring fights and infidelities, only seeing sunshine. The good parts. And knowing its nature, indulging it with caution, recalling fondly and reliving without desire to return or recreate. “Supercut” could not have existed at any other time, on any other album, by any other artist. Lorde took the most modern of language and forged a work of art of crushing emotional truth; timeless, indelible, perfect.

3 “HUMBLE.” Kendrick Lamar I saw Kendrick play his first ever solo headlining arena show in his hometown. When it came time for “HUMBLE.”, the music dropped out after the initial “Hyeuh, hyeuh!,” and Kendrick let the crowd rap the entire song acapella while he just gazed around, observing in awe. The moment was magic.

2 “If We Were Vampires” Jason Isbell I’ll be honest. I don’t know how to write about this one without getting inappropriately personal. It’s been a hard year for me in certain relevant ways, and this incredible song has not helped matters.

1 “God in Chicago” Craig Finn The adjective “cinematic” doesn’t do justice to “God in Chicago,” which, despite lasting a mere four minutes and forty-five seconds, and not being cinema, is one of the best films of the year, a devastating, seedy road trip romance with a tight plot, loveable flawed characters, and an ambiguous ending. Craig Finn fronts my favorite band of over a decade, and yet this is the best thing he’s ever done. Every detail matters, every word and phrase considered and intentional. It’s Craig’s “Chelsea Hotel No 2,” a quiet meditation towering over an oeuvre of louder, more sensational and populist work. I love this man.

Appendices

I. Albums I enjoyed and/or listened to often but did not become favorites for whatever reasons Allison Crutchfield, Tourist in this Town Arcade Fire, Everything Now Big Thief, Capacity Broken Social Scene, Hug of Thunder Bully, Losing Charly Bliss, Guppy Cloud Nothings, Life Without Sound The Dirty Nil, Minimum R&B Drake, More Life Fat Joe/Remy Ma, Plata O Plomo Father John Misty, Pure Comedy Feist, Pleasure Craig Finn, We All Want the Same Things Japanese Breakfast, Soft Sounds from Another Planet Jay-Z, 4:44 Jens Lenkman, Life Will See You Now LCD Soundsystem, American Dream Migos, Culture The National, Sleep Well Beast Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever, The French Press Ryan Adams, Prisoner Sampha, Process Sylvan Esso, What Now Tigers Jaw, spin The War on Drugs, A Deeper Understanding Waxahatchee, Out of the Storm Wolf Parade, Cry Cry Cry Worriers, Survival Pop Yaeji, EP2 Yr Poetry, One Night Alive

II. Albums with which I was simply unable to spend enough time So many. Basically any album on any list covered on this site—the ultimate resource for end-of-year music dorkery--that I didn’t mention in my document I would have at least given a cursory try. That’s my normal process. There just wasn’t time.

III. A vain attempt to string together some final thoughts I’m exhausted, too exhausted to force a cute unified narrative onto my experiences with music this year beyond what I already have. As for the future… I’m excited, in a different way than normal. I don’t know what’s coming out next year. I haven’t done the requisite research. I’m into the idea of just letting it happen, letting New Music Fridays reveal themselves week-to-week.

Haha, just kidding. As soon as I post this I’m jumping in headfirst, making a 2018 Most Anticipated List. Sayonara suckers.

[nitemice]

Hey, here's my latest post over on my main blog:

For her sixth studio album, Nerina Pallot has produced a funkier, jazzy release. And while it’s relatively short, it’s a delight throughout.

Across five (now six) albums and numerous EPs, Nerina Pallot has accrued a back-catalogue of music large enough to rival many bands that have been active much longer than her. Not only that, her track record is better than many long-active artists too. That’s not just an throwaway line; I can genuinely say that the vast majority of her music is stuff I really enjoy. I am an ever-growing fan.

Like her previous album The Sound and The Fury, Stay Lucky was funded and released through PledgeMusic. Unlike that release though, I decided to pledge towards this one. There was never any doubt I would end up buying either album. I own CD copies of all of Nerina Pallot’s albums, and have tried to track down as many of the EPs digitally as I can. It just came down to if the exchange rate made the price unreasonable, like it did last time, which thankfully it did not.

There was also a very tempting extra offered this time round. One of the purchase options was a cassette edition of Stay Lucky. Cassettes were a big part of my childhood, and I’ve been wanting to buy some albums on cassette for a while, so it took a lot of willpower not to buy that edition. In the end, it just wasn’t good value for money.

As with my other album reviews, I’ve listed previous Nerina Pallot songs each track reminds me of (with the album they come from), a rank for each track on this album, as well as a few comments about each track. Plus there’s an overview of the album as a whole at the bottom.

1. Juno

Reminds me of: Rousseau [The Sound and The Fury], Alien [Dear Frustrated Superstar] Rank on this album: 3 Juno beautifully sets the scene for this whole album. Nerina’s bluesy, vulnerable voice pairs perfectly with the light guitar and deep piano, and shines when matched by rising strings. Those rousing vocals strike straight through you. The lyrics make repeated mention of a bird, clearly tying it to the last track on the album. I’m sure there’s some deeper meaning to the rest of the lyrics, but I just couldn’t make it out.

2. Man Didn’t Walk on the Moon

Reminds me of: Seventeen [Year of the Wolf] Rank on this album: 5 Man Didn’t Walk on the Moon has a funky, yet light 70’s feel. Guitar twangs add emphasis to phrases, and backing vocals give the chorus a pseudo-gospel feel. A funk-rock guitar solo feels like it should be out of place, but isn’t. This song is about the power of infatuation, and the things it can do to a person. The title refers to the fact the narrator is so infatuated with the song’s subject, she doesn’t care about his questionable opinion on the moon landing. Believe it or not, this is a specific situation I’ve actually heard people mentioned having experienced before. Further to that, I read this song as the first part in a narrative that continues across a number of this album’s tracks. It tells the tale of a young woman, possibly a teenager, becoming intimate with a hottie on vacation. Various lyrics also point to it being set in the past.

3. Bring Him Fire

Reminds me of: Turn Me On Again [Year of the Wolf], Ain’t Got Anything Left [The Sound and The Fury] Rank on this album: 8 Bring Him Fire is a seductive, yet fiery funk number, and the track that most reminded me of Nerina Pallot’s previous work. That’s not to say it’s without its own surprises, such as a heavily distorted guitar duelling with the vocal twice in the middle of the song. Violins also are used to build up the intensity around the choruses. I read this song as a continuation of the story begun in the previous track, where the narrator is now describing her burning passion to get it on with the previously-mentioned hottie.

4. Come into My Room

Reminds me of: Geek Love [Fires], Sophia [Fires] Rank on this album: 10 Voice takes centre stage in Come into My Room, with complementary piano, and occasional touches of guitar and backing vocals. The lyrics are lustful, yet calm with a hint of innuendo. I read this song as part three of the multi-song story started on track 2. In some ways, the sentiment of this song is similar to the last, but delivered with a wholly different, more subdued tone.

5. Stay Lucky

Reminds me of: Everything’s Illuminated! [The Graduate], Human [The Graduate], Handle [The Sound and The Fury] Rank on this album: 6 Stay Lucky opens with an arpeggio-based riff, which carries throughout the whole song. The bridge/solo sounds like it’s played on a theremin, but I think it’s actually an organ of some type. The lyrics are an ode to someone who has or is pulling through a serious health scare, pledging their importance to the world. A French-language version of this track was also released, which I actually think I enjoyed more, just because I feel some of the phrases sound more rhythmic.

6. The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

Reminds me of: This Will Be Our Year [Year of the Wolf], Happy [My Best Friends are Imaginary] Rank on this album: 1 The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter has the feeling of a classic jazz-blues ballad. However, it’s packed with little musical surprises, subverting your expectations. For example, going into the chorus, you expect the vocal pitch to continue down, but instead Nerina brings it up. The little touches of horns that support the lyrics made me swoon. The piano solo fits perfectly with the style, and comes in at just the perfect moment. The latter half of the solo is accompanied by voice and flute, giving it a further gentle softness. I could easily imagine someone like Shirley Bassey or Hetty Kate singing this track; it is such an instant classic for me.

7. Better

Reminds me of: Rainbow [Dear Frustrated Superstar] Rank on this album: 2 Better has a more electronic sound than the rest of this album. It opens with an ethereal feel, which quickly evolves into a funky plod, more fitting with its neighbours. This track has not one, but two prominent solos: an organ solo, which appears about halfway and maintains the tone and pace up to that point, and a saxophone solo that closes the song. I love the sax solo, with all its twists and turns. It’s a perfect cooldown to the choral chants that serve as the climax of the song, just before it. There’s also a little bit of swearing on this track, just so you know.

8. All Gold

Reminds me of: Damascus [Fires], History Boys [Year of the Wolf] Rank on this album: 7 All Gold is probably the most cryptic track on this album. It is a serene, story-heavy song, that I interpret to have some religious meaning, but I’m not totally sure. The opening riff reminds me of They Might Be Giants’ Mink Car. Violins match the vocals in the chorus, along with a rhythmic piano riff.

9. Come Back to Bed

Reminds me of: It Starts [The Graduate] Rank on this album: 9 Come Back to Bed is a seductive ballad, that would be quite at home in the repertoire of a lounge singer. The piano gives the song an extra dramatic flair, underlying the strained vocals, which give the song a genuine sense of pleading. The presence of an electric guitar solo, with a Western twang, feels like it shouldn’t fit but somehow it does and well. I also read this track as possibly a final piece in the multi-song narrative started in track 2.

10. Bird

Reminds me of: Grace [Year of the Wolf] Rank on this album: 4 Bird sees the return of the oft-mentioned bird from Juno, the opening track. In this song, the narrator looks to a seemingly carefree bird for advice on how to live life, but finds resolve within herself when she realises that even pain has its place and importance. Something about the rhythm of the vocals on this song reminds me of Jamiroquai. I can imagine an amazing disco remix. A whole choir of backing vocals kick in towards the end, giving the song, and album, a final kick of power.

When I first listened to Stay Lucky, two things struck me. The first was the shared narrative, or at the very least, cross-song themes.

As mentioned above, I interpreted five of the songs on Stay Lucky to be part of a continuous story. If this was the intention or not, I can’t be sure. Either way, these tracks clearly share some elements that make them feel connected, along with the overt connection between Juno and Bird.

In fact, I get the sense that every track is packed with literary references and deeper meaning just beyond my understanding.

The second thing that struck me was the style of the tracks. This release is dominated by songs I would classify as jazz, funk or both. This was particularly striking because before I convinced myself to pre-order Stay Lucky, I listened to the pre-release singles: Stay Lucky in English and French, Better, and Man Didn’t Walk on the Moon. Hearing those isolated samples, I didn’t get the sense of just how jazzy this album would be, which turned out to be an awesome surprise.

That said, Nerina Pallot has lost none of her pop sensibilities here, and instead puts them to fantastic use throughout. Stay Lucky is full of continued evidence of what an expert wordsmith and master of evocative imagery Nerina Pallot is, like this beauty from The Heart is a Lonely Hunter: “I will slide slowly, like honey off a knife”.

This release is characterised not just by its jazz/funk style, but also by a particular sound. A sound that is unique and recognisable throughout for its use of piano, organ and harpsichord, midwestern guitar and uplifting strings.

The solos on each track are short by industry standards, but that’s not a problem. It just means they don’t overstay their welcome, or take away from the song they’re in.

Once again, Nerina Pallot has managed to produce an album full of tracks with that characteristic “Nerina Pallot” sound, without leaning on previous work basically at all. Everything here sounds unique and new, yet immediately identifiable as Nerina Pallot. Nothing feels like a repeat or rehash of some past song. And that might be Nerina’s greatest talent: producing new, beautiful music that sounds the same, yet so totally different.

RATING: 8.5/10 – ★★★★★★★★✬☆

But you don’t have to take my word for it… Listen to the album for yourself, and make up your own mind. Then you can let me know what you think of Nerina Pallot’s Stay Lucky.

So, have you ever heard of Nerina Pallot? What’s your favourite of her songs? Did you pre-order Stay Lucky? What do you think? Did it live up to your expectations? Have I said anything you disagree with? Tell me & everyone else who passes through here what you think in the comment below.

To Infinity and Beyond,

Nitemice

Filed under: Leisure & Hobbies, Music, Reviews Tagged: music, music review, Nerina Pallot, review, stay lucky

[mythandritual]

"You Can Hear Someone's World View Through Their Guitar." An Interview with Josh Rosenthal of Tompkins Square Records

This interview originally appeared at North Country Primitive on 11th March 2016

Josh Rosenthal's Tompkins Square Records, which has recently celebrated its tenth anniversary, has become somewhat of an institution for music fans, thanks to Josh's consistent championing of American Primitive guitar, the old, weird America and various other must-hear obscurities he has managed to pluck from the ether. Not content with running one of the best record labels on the planet, he is now also an author, and about to go out on tour with various musicians from the wider Tompkins Square family in support of his new book, The Record Store of the Mind. We caught up with him this week and pestered him with a heap of questions - our thanks to Josh for putting up with us.

Congratulations on The Record Store of the Mind – it’s an absorbing and entertaining read. Has this project had a long gestation period? How easily does writing come to you - and is it something you enjoy doing? It certainly comes across that way...

Thanks for the kind words. I don't consider myself a writer. I started the book in November 2014 and finished in May 2015, but a lot of that time was spent procrastinating, working on my label, or getting really down on myself for not writing. I could have done more with the prose, made it more artful. I can't spin yarn like, say, your average MOJO writer. So I decided early on to just tell it straight, just tell the story and don't labour over the prose.

I particularly like how you mix up memoir, pen portraits of musicians, and snippets of crate digger philosophy... was the book crafted and planned this way or was there an element of improvisation - seeing where your muse took you? And is there more writing to follow?

If I write another book, it'd have to be based around a big idea or theme. This one is a collection of essays. As I went on, I realised that there's this undercurrent of sadness and tragedy in most of the stories, so a theme emerged. I guess it's one reflective of life, just in a musical context. We all have things we leave undone, or we feel under-appreciated at times. I wasn't even planning to write about myself, but then some folks close to me convinced me I should do. So you read about six chapters and then you find out something about the guy who's writing this stuff. I intersperse a few chapters about my personal experience, from growing up on Long Island in love with Lou Reed to college radio days to SONY and all the fun things I did there. Threading those chapters in gives the book a lift, I think.

Tell us a bit about the planned book tour. You’ve got a mighty fine selection of musicians joining you on the various dates. I imagine there was no shortage of takers?

I'm really grateful to them all. I selected some folks in each city I'm visiting, and they all are in the Tompkins Square orbit. Folks will see the early guitar heroes like Peter Walker, Max Ochs and Harry Taussig and the youngsters like Diane Cluck, one of my favourite vocalists. You can't read for more than ten minutes. People zone out. So having music rounds out the event and ties back to the whole purpose of my book and my label.

It’s clear from the book that you haven’t lost your excitement about uncovering hidden musical gems. Any recent discoveries that have particularly floated your boat?

I'm working with a couple of guys on a compilation of private press guitar stuff. They are finding the most fascinating and beautiful stuff from decades ago. I've never heard of any of the players. Most are still alive, and they are sending me fantastic photos and stories. I have been listening to a lot of new music now that Spotify is connected to my stereo system! I love Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith. Her new one is out soon. I like Charlie Hilton's new album too.

Any thoughts on the vinyl resurgence and the re-emergence of the humble cassette tape?

Vinyl has kept a lot of indie record stores in business, which is a great development. As a label, it's a low margin product, so that's kind of frustrating. If you're not selling it hand over fist, it can be a liability. The model seems to be - make your physical goods, sell them as best you can within the first four months, and then let the digital sphere be your warehouse. I never bought cassettes and have no affinity for them, or the machines that play them.

Turning to Tompkins Square, did your years working for major labels serve as a good apprenticeship for running your own label? Did you have a clear idea of what you wanted the label to look like from the outset or has the direction its taken developed organically over time?

Working for PolyGram as a teenager and then SONY for 15 years straight out of college was formative. I like taking on projects. My interests and the marketplace dictate what I do. I've always felt like the label does me instead of vice versa. For example, the idea of releasing two, three or four disc sets of a particular genre served me well, but now it feels like a very 2009 concept. It doesn't interest me much, and the commercial viability of that has diminished because it seems the appetite for those types of products has diminished.

Working in relatively niche genres in the current music industry climate can’t be the safest or easiest way to make a living. Is there a sense sometimes that you’re flying by the seat of your pants?

We're becoming a two-format industry - streaming and vinyl. The CD is really waning and so is the mp3. The streaming pie is growing but it's modest in terms of income when you compare it to CD or download margins at their height. I don't really pay much mind to the macro aspects of the business. I just try to release quality, sell a few thousand, move on to the next thing, while continuing to goose the catalogue. The business is becoming very much about getting on the right playlists that will drive hundreds of thousands of streams. It's the new payola.

American Primitive and fingerstyle guitar makes up a significant percentage of Tompkins Square releases, going right back to the early days of the label – indeed, it could be said that you’ve played a pivotal role in reviving interest in the genre. Is this a style that is particularly close to your heart? What draws you to it?

Interest in guitar flows in and out of favour. There are only a small number of guitarists I actually like, and a much longer list of guitarists I'm told I'm SUPPOSED to like. Most leave me cold, even if they're technically great. But I respect anyone who plays their instrument well. Certain players like Harry Taussig or Michael Chapman really reach me - their music really gets under my skin and touches my soul. It's hard to describe, but it has something to do with melody and repetition. It's not about technique per se. You can hear someone's world view through their guitar, and you can hear it reflecting your own.

You’ve reintroduced some wonderful lost American Primitive classics to the world – by Mark Fosson, Peter Walker, Don Bikoff, Richard Crandell and so on. How have these reissues come about? Painstaking research? Happy cratedigging accidents? Serendipity? Are there any reissues you’re particularly proud of?

They came about in all different ways. A lot of the time I can't remember how I got turned on to something, or started working with someone. Peter was among the first musicians I hunted down in 2005, and we made his first album in 40 years. I think Mark's cousin told me about his lost tapes in the attic. Bikoff came to me via WFMU. Crandell - I'm not sure, but In The Flower of My Youth is one of the greatest solo guitar albums of all time. I'm proud of all of them !

Are there any ‘ones that got away’ that you particularly regret, where red tape, copyright issues, cost or recalcitrant musicians have prevented a reissue from happening? Any further American Primitive reissues in the pipeline you can tell us about – the supply of lost albums doesn’t seem to be showing signs of drying up yet…

Like I said, this new compilation I'm working on is going to be a revelation. So much fantastic, unknown, unheard private press guitar music. It makes you realise how deep the well actually is. There are things I've wanted to do that didn't materialise. Usually these are due to uncooperative copyright owners or murky provenance in a recording that makes it unfit to release legitimately.

You’ve also released a slew of albums by contemporary guitarists working in the fingerstyle tradition. How do you decide who gets the Tompkins Square treatment?  What are you looking for in a guitarist when you’re deciding who to work with? And what’s the score with the zillions of James Blackshaw albums? Has he got dirt on you!?

It takes a lot for me to sign someone. I feel good about the people I've signed, and most of them have actual careers, insofar as they can go play in any US or European city and people will pay to see them. I hope I've had a hand in that. I did six albums with Blackshaw because he's one of the most gifted composers and guitarist of the past 50 years. He should be scoring films. He really should be a superstar by now, like Philip Glass. I think he's not had the right breaks or the best representation to develop his career to its full potential. But he's still young.

Imaginational Anthems has been a flagship series for Tompkins Square from the beginning. The focus of the series seems to have shifted a couple of times – from the original mixture of old and new recordings to themed releases to releases with outside curators. Has this variation in approach been a means by which to mix it up and keep the series fresh? Are you surprised at the iconic status the series has achieved?

I don't know about iconic. I think the comps have served their purpose, bringing unknowns into the light via the first three volumes and introducing some young players along the way. Cian Nugent was on the cover of volume 3 as a teenager. Daniel Bachman came to my attention on volume 5, which Sam Moss compiled. Sam Moss' new album is featured on NPR just today! Steve Gunn was relatively unknown when he appeared on volume 5. There are lots more examples of that. I like handing over the curation to someone who can turn me on to new players, just as a listener gets turned on. It's been an amazing experience learning about these players. And I'm going to see a number of IA alums play on my book tour : Mike Vallera, Sam Moss, Wes Tirey - and I invited Jordan Norton out in Portland. Never met him or saw him play. He was fantastic. Plays this Frippy stuff.

What’s next for you and Tompkins Square?

I signed a young lady from Ireland. Very excited about her debut album, due in June. I'm reissuing two early 70's records by Bob Brown, both produced by Richie Havens. Beautiful records, barely anyone has heard them.

[filmdaguardare]

In 1993 David Bowie compiled a double CD for friends. Titled All Saints it combined instrumentals from Low and "Heroes" with more contemporary tracks and signalled the singer's rediscovery of the electronic sounds that revolutionised his music in 1977. Delving deep into All Saints, Jon Savage examines the impact of Bowie's sonic revolution on post-punk, electronica and, in the end, Bowie himself.

1993 was a fantastic year for electronic music. Six years after Steve 'Silk' Hurley's Jack Your Body - the UK's first house Number 1 - the pure energy of house and techno had diversified into more than just a series of artificially stimulated genres: it had become a whole new sound world that had very little to do with what had gone before, and that meant rock. Despite the best efforts of Suede and Nirvana that year, electronica sounded like the future.

Passing from the irresistible Euro cheese of 2 Unlimited's No Limit - Number 1 in February - to Acen's brutal classic Window In The Sky - collected on the early junglist compilation Hard Leaders III: Enter The Darkside, there were several releases by Richard ]ames/Aphex Twin, including Polygon Window's Surfing On Sine Waves; Richie Hawtin's first album on Warp, Dimension Intrusion as F.U.S.E., Underworld's Rez, Sabres Of Paradise's Smokebelch II and the R&S compilation In Order To Dance 4 - brilliant records all.

1993 was also the year that David Bowie rediscovered his mojo, It had been a decade since Let's Dance - the rock/R&B fusion that launched him into the global mainstream for the first time. The subsequent years saw Bowie blindsided by that somewhat unexpected success: after two poor studio albums (Tonight and Never Let Me Down), an attempt to recapture his rock roots with Tin Machine had been unsuccessful - despite a couple of good songs. So what to do next?"

"A way through the labyrinth was offered by the past: going forward by going back. During 1991, Rykodisc undertook a comprehensive reissue programme of all the albums between 1967's David Bowie and 1980's Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps), trailed in 1989 by the successful 3-CD compilation Sound + Vision. The cumulative effect of these fifteen records - including the electronic highpoints, Low and "Heroes" - reaffirmed Bowie's status as modernist and innovator.

Released in April 1993, Black Tie White Noise was Bowie's first solo album for six years. It contains what would, with variations, become his basic template for the next decade: mature, almost crooning vocals; iconic covers, in this case Cream's I Feel Free and The Walker Brothers' Nite Flights; an interest in black dance rhythms (assisted here by Nile Rodgers); and futuristic ideas integrated within a full, enveloping sound. It went to Number 1.

Bowie has always been a synthesist of contemporary modes: unlike many rock stars, he actually likes music. His commercial renaissance in 1993 coincided with a greater receptivity to the world around him and a corresponding reassessment of his achievements. Pallas Athena is a string-drenched baggy shuffle, while the title track, Black Tie White Noise, matches a lyric about the 1992 Rodney King riots in Los Angeles with a guest vocal from New Jack Swing singer Al B. Sure!

That November, Nirvana plugged Bowie right into the heart of contemporary rock music with their version of The Man Who Sold The World on MTV Unplugged. A month later, Bowie released his second album of 1993, The Buddha Of Suburbia, an album of all new, subtly electronic material - inspired by his soundtrack work on the BBC Film of Hanif Kureishi's novel, set in their shared south London locale of Bromley - a forgotten gem in his catalogue.

Right from the opening track, which collages the riff from Space Oddity and the chorus from All The Madmen, The Buddha Of Suburbia plugs Bowie back into his avant-garde past. This was deliberate: as Bowie wrote in the linernotes, "My personal brief for this collection was to marry my present way of writing and playing with the stockpile of residue from the 1970s." That meant a list of inspirations that included free association lyrics, Brücke-Museum, Kraftwerk, Eno and Neu!

As if to celebrate the continued influence of Eno on his "working forms", Bowie put together his third release of the year: a double CD compilation called All Saints, produced in an edition of a hundred and fifty and handed out to friends. This was an explicit homage to electronica: mixing all the instrumentals from Low and "Heroes" with stray outtakes like Abdulmajid and All Saints, as well as relevant material from Black Tie White Noise and The Buddha Of Suburbia.

The result is surprisingly homogeneous: sixteen years of material collaged into a flowing whole, with the The Buddha Of Suburbia material, The Mysteries and Ian Fish UK Heir, among the strongest. Which prompts a few questions. If Low and "Heroes" represent Bowie's highpoint of formal inspiration, then how did he get there? Why did they sound so good in the context of their time, and what has their influence been - not just on his own music - but electronica in general? Did that future happen?

It all began, appropriately enough, in science fiction. During the mid to late summer of 1975, Bowie was in New Mexico and other southern locations, filming Nicolas Roeg's The Man Who Fell To Earth. His central role required him to play the part of Thomas Jerome Newton, an extraterrestrial visitor on a quest to find water for his dying planet. Newton is charming, cold, and totally emotionless: as Bowie later admitted, he hardly had to act because that's how he felt at the time.

Space travel and aliens have been a constant theme in Bowie's songs, from Space Oddity through Life On Mars?, Ashes To Ashes and Hello Spaceboy. The possibility of other worlds - and the transformation achieved by leaving this one - is a sure-re way of abstracting from any problems that one has on this Earth. Bowie had always felt apart, and much of his work - for instance, his first masterpiece, 1966's The London Boys - centres around the themes of being in or out, between belonging and not belonging.

His first big hit, 1969's Space Oddity, was a trip to nowhere, in the short term. Bowie achieved fusion in his second phase of chart success: he understood and identified with his new audience, a mixture of weirdos, gays, urban stylists and teenyboppers. But superstardom and artistic restlessness drove him into new, uncharted areas: as he continued his sequence of hyper-speed transformations in 1974 and 1975 - from Aladdin Sane to Diamond Dogs and Young Americans - he became more and more remote.

In summer 1975 he was coked-out and fame blitzed. But The Man Who Fell To Earth offered a lifeline. Saturated in science fiction, becoming the alien, Bowie was able to project forward, into his future, into the future - out of a barren, bleak and occasionally terrifying present. (At the time he was living in Los Angeles, beset by demons, imagined or otherwise, and involved in a sequence of paralysing business disputes).

The first sign of this change was all over his next album. Recorded in autumn 1973, Station To Station was a compelling mixture of abstracted disco and contemporary crooning. TVC 15 set to a vicious funk rhythm the famous scene in The Man Who Fell To Earth, where Newton, rendered incapable by alcohol, goggles at a wall of TV sets: "I give my complete attention to a very good friend of mine / He's quadrophonic / He's a / He's got more channels/ So hologramic / Oh my TVC 15."

The title track was a ten-minute tour de force, with as many twists and turns as a 1967 single or a prog epic, that charted a spiritual journey from the darkside ("Here I am / Dredging the ocean / Lost in my circle") to some kind of possibility that life could continue. Whether consciously or not, Bowie was visualising his own escape: "The European canon is here." Here also are the first traces of modern German music: the motorik rhythms, the panoramic sweep of the train sounds.

The idea of a physical journey was stimulated by the most successful German record to date, Kraftwerk's Autobahn - the title track of which aimed to capture the feeling of driving along the German A roads without speed limits. You hear the car starting, a horn toots, and then you're off into a repetitive, hypnotic twenty-two-minute journey that reflects the different, phasing perspectives of travelling fast as well as the boredom of motorway driving.

As important as the idea of simulating shifts through time and space was Kraftwerk's use of synthesizers to express a melodic sensibility that, at various points, suggested distance, loss, cosiness and large horizons. The two wordless versions of Kometenmelodie, on the album's second side, are saturated in deep, warm analogue synth sounds. This was a futuristic, self-generated, distinct European sensibility that had very little American or English influence.

An edited single of Autobahn went to Number 11 in the UK charts in June 1975. The Kosmische Musik was going overground in 1974/5 just as it hit an artistic peak, with records by Kraftwerk, Tangerine Dream (Phaedra and Ricochet), Cluster (Zuckerzeit), Harmonia (Muzik Von Harmonia), Can (Soon Over Babaluma), Neu! (Neu! 75), and Faust, whose Faust IV began with an earth-shaking drone that satirised the flip name given to the genre by British journalists - Krautrock.

This was a music born out of a national rupture: Germany's post-war devastation and reconstruction. As Kraftwerk's Ralf Hütter told this writer in 1991: "When we started it was like, shock, silence. Where do we stand? Nothing. The classical music being nineteenth century, but in the twentieth century: nothing. We had no father figures, no continuous tradition of entertainment. Through the '50s and '60s, everything was Americanised, directed towards consumer behaviour.

"We were part of this '68 movement, where suddenly there were possibilities: we performed at happenings and art situations. Then we founded our Kling Klang studio. German word for sound is 'klang', 'kling' is the verb. Phonetics, establishing the sound, we added more electronics. You had performances from Cologne Radio, Stockhausen, and something new was in the air, with electronic sounds, tape machines. We were a younger generation, we came up with different textures."

With a cover that used a still taken from The Man Who Fell To Earth, Station To Station was released in January 1976, followed a couple of months later by the film: a double whammy that kept Bowie at the forefront of popular culture. In February, Bowie began the sixty-four-date Station To Station tour - for many fans, his peak as a performer - which, after forty or so dates in the US, visited Germany in April. He liked it so much that, in late summer 1976, he moved to Berlin with Iggy Pop in tow.

In the late '70s, Berlin was a schizophrenic city, brutally divided in two by the heavily policed wall that separated the two warring super-power systems of the day - Cold War zoning in excelsis. Totally surrounded by the communist Deutsche Demokratische Republik, the Western side was an oasis of capitalist values, half depressed and half manically liberated. (For two contrasting views, see the contemporary Berlin films Taxi Zum Klo and Christiane F..

Berlin had come back from nothing. It allowed Bowie anonymity, a safe enough haven within which to reconstitute himself and an environment that matched his own psychological state. It also had layers of history that went back beyond the Cold War and World War II: always visually stimulated, Bowie was fascinated by the Brücke-Museum, an institution dedicated to the often stark Work of the first expressionists, the 'Brücke', or Bridge, who celebrated spontaneity and raw emotion.

It also allowed Bowie to immerse himself further in German music: that year he met Edgar Froese, Giorgio Moroder, and Kraftwerk - who would write about it in 1977's Trans-Europe Express: "From station to station / Back to Dusseldorf city / Meet Iggy Pop and David Bowie." This was the melting pot that would go into the four key 1977 albums that Bowie began recording that summer: first Iggy Pop's The Idiot, then his next, begun in France and finished at the Hansa Tonstudio ("By the wall") in Berlin.

Low was a major surprise when it came out in early 1977 but it's a perfect record - conceptually and emotionally. Adorned with a treated cover still from The Man Who Fell To Earth, it's split into two halves: a first side of seven tracks - two instrumentals and ve songs clipped brutally short - and a second of almost wordless, hypnotic instrumentals. The entire album is drenched in electronics, used to evoke a variety of emotions - not the least of which is a strange serenity: the curious comfort in near-total withdrawal.

The record fades in on Speed Of Life, a theme that tied into one of the preoccupations of punk; as Bowie stated in 1977, "People simply can't cope with the rate of change in this world. It's all far too fast." This instrumental matches a ferocious Dennis Davis snare drum sound - achieved by Tony Visconti's Eventide Harmonizer, which fed back a dying echo to the drummer as he played - with synthesizer textures that were at once harsh and melodic, uplifting and decaying.

These were provided by Brian Eno, Bowie's principal collaborator, who was already saturated in German music. During the sessions for Low, he recorded with Harmonia, while his 1975 album, Another Green World, had been partly inspired by Cluster's Zuckerzeit, an album of playful, sugary but relentless synthesizer instrumentals, and the oscillation between recognisable, if slightly swerved pop songs and ambient instrumentals were what Bowie was aiming to achieve.

The five songs on Low's first side are almost randomly edited, formally unconventional - the vocal on the hit, Sound And Vision, doesn't come in for a minute and a half - and almost autistically uncommunicative. Normally profligate with words and storylines, Bowie here offers fragments from unpleasant scenarios that thrust themselves up into the consciousness (Always Crashing In The Same Car, Breaking Glass) or almost desperate attempts at connection (Be My Wife).

The excitement of the record's formal innovations - the successful integration of a new electronic sound with pop/rock music: just listen to the popping synth in What In The World - contrast with a mood that is shut down, cocooned. This feeling of remoteness is deepened by the four instrumentals that begin with Warszawa. Mixing minimalism with random elements, like the discarded Vibraphone found in the studio, they remain shape-shifting pulses of great clarity and beauty.

Low might have alienated the Americans, but it reached Number 2 in the UK: at the same time, Sound And Vision was a UK Top 3 single. While not of punk, it seemed to share a similar mood: the clipped feel, the acceleration, the traumatised emotions - on the surface at least. It was quickly followed by another album, this time totally recorded at the Hansa Tonstudio in Berlin: "Heroes". Although sharing the same split format as Low, this was a very different beast.

The first thing that you notice is that the songs are longer. There are synthesizers and randomness - like the flat interjection on Joe The Lion: "It's Monday" - but the feeling is generally more expansive, as though Bowie has begun to open up to the world again. The sound is fuller, and reaches a peak on the justly celebrated title track, inspired by two lovers meeting under the Berlin Wall, which, with a totally committed, if not desperate vocal, celebrates the uncertain possibility that love can transcend geopolitics.

The second side is like a waking dream. The Kraftwerk homage V-2 Schneider begins with a downward sweep - like a jet, or a rocket terror weapon, levelling out - before hitting a heavy motorik groove as relentless as anything on Neu! 75. Sense Of Doubt leaves a descending, four-note theme hanging in atmospherics and synthesizer washes: you can hear the dripping rain and feel the physical and mental as psychology matches environment.

Moss Garden takes from Edgar Froese's Epsilon In Malaysian Pale in mood - that lush, exotic soundscape - and in its repeating synth whorls. Bowie added a deep, machine-like hum that travels across the channels, and an improvisation played on a koto: the Japanese stringed instrument. The final instrumental, Neuköln, features Bowie's saxophone in a strangulated, highly Expressionist evocation of a drab Berlin district then mainly populated by Turkish immigrants.

These four tracks are the high point of Bowie's career, his point of furthest formal and expressive outreach: sound paintings that have all the complexity and power of a feature film, they take you there, right into their emotional and physical landscape. Just as much as the purely instrumental albums that Brian Eno would release over the next few years, they represent the beginnings of ambient music, certainly in the form that would become popular in the early 1990s.

The impact of Low and "Heroes" was immediate. Both albums were signposts to the young musicians who would come to the fore in 1978 and 1979, after punk's fury had dissipated: among them were Gary Numan, whose super-alienated chart-topper, Are 'Friends' Electric, welded TVC 15 with Speed Of Life, and Joy Division, originally called Warsaw after the opening instrumental on side two of Low, who took that album's distinctive drum sound, mixed with a lot of Can, into their vision of rock and electronics.

The influence went even further. Berlin and bleak Mitteleurope became a pop trope in the late '70s, with the cold wave of The Human League, Ultravox's Vienna and Joy Division's haunted Komakino, written after a visit to the city. The Mobiles went kitsch with the melodramatic Drowning In Berlin, while Spandau Ballet, the breakthrough group of the new romantics (true children of Bowie all), took their name from the district to the west of the city.

Part of this was just pop faddishness, but Low and "Heroes" had, by the end of 1977, offered a way out of punk's stylistic cul-de-sac. Electronics had been a definite no-no for punks - "Moog synthe-si-zer" Joe Strummer had sneered on London Weekend Television in November 1976 - but they returned with a vengeance after Donna Summer's I Feel Love and Space's Magic Fly, with great 1978 singles by The Normal, Throbbing Gristle, Cabaret Voltaire and The Human League, plus key albums by Suicide and Kraftwerk.

Punk had been the future, but that was quickly superseded by real-time, political events. In the polarising atmosphere of late 1977 and early 1978, it was all too easy to feel shot by both sides. As they had to David Bowie, electronics offered a way of side-stepping impossible demands, while their association with various physical and psychological states - movement late in the night through the city, withdrawal and isolation - were attractive to alienated youth.

In many ways, it was the return of psychedelia, only darker in keeping with the mood of the time. The counter-intuitive analogue synth sound was key: it was deep enough to create an environment and bleak enough to evoke estrangement, while at the same time enveloping the listener in a warm bath of ambience, that "sensurround sound" that would be explored further by The Human League (The Dignity Of Labour Parts 1-4), Joy Division (Atmosphere, The Eternal) and PiL (Radio 4).

Like his post-punk acolytes, Bowie too kept coming back to these albums in the later '70s and early '80s. In 1978, he played Warszawa and Sense Of Doubt on the long Isolar II tour, later collected on the Stage live album. Both also cropped up, together with V-2 Schneider and "Heroes"/Helden on the soundtrack of Christiane F., a stark but overlong depiction of teenage heroin addicts at the central Berlin station that became one of the most popular German films ever.

But apart from Crystal Japan, a Japanese B-side, Bowie retreated from pure electronica thereafter. By the time that he returned with Let's Dance in 1983, the spores he had helped to cast to the wind were beginning to bear fruit in the most unexpected way, as the late '70s white synthetic sound was taken up by black Americans, most notably in rap and techno tracks by Cybotron - 1981's Alleys Of Your Mind and 1984's Techno City - and Afrika Bambaataa And Soulsonic Force on 1983's Planet Rock.

While Bowie busied himself in the mainstream, dance culture proliferated into a myriad forms, assisted by the onset of digital and sampling technology. With such an eclectic, voracious and fast-moving culture, it was hardly surprising that it began to loop back to the analogue late '70s. Just as Low and "Heroes" reappeared on CD in 1991, with several extra tracks, the first products of ambient's second wave were being released: Aphex Twin's Didgeridoo and Biosphere's classic Microgravity.

Reconnecting with his electronic past gave Bowie a burst of energy that has taken him through the '90s and, in fact, the rest of his career to date. During 1992, the year that Philip Glass put out the Low Symphony, he reunited with Brian Eno - on "synthesizers, treatments, and strategies" - for the ambitious 1.Outside. Released in 1995, this was a return to the dystopian landscape of Diamond Dogs with added pre-millennial tension and extra technological weirdness.

The fourteen songs on 1.Outside stretch time and form. Random reappears in the cut-up lyrics, while the constant 4/4 of house phases in-and-out of funk and baggy beats, in the segues Bowie's voice is varispeeded through time and space: one minute he's a fourteen-year-old girl, another a forty-six-year-old "Tyrannical Futurist". The album's big hit, Hello Spaceboy, has hints of Rebel Rebel and Space Oddity. By this stage, in his late forties, Bowie could look back at his catalogue and his obsessions, and still move forward.

The motion was even more extreme on 1997's direct, uptempo and intense Earthling, in which Bowie mixed heavily sampled often squeezed into squalling riffs, as on the opener Little Wonder, with self-generated drum'n'bass rhythms that co-existed with rave patterns (Dead Man Walking). With hints of The Prodigy and Underworld, this was Bowie's most dance-friendly album, adding remixes by Moby, Danny Saber, Nine Inch Nails, and Junior Vasquez.

Both 1.Outside and Earthling made the UK Top 10, as did the more eclectic and uptempo Hours..., from 1999. Two years later, Bowie finally released All Saints as a single disc: dropping the Black Tie White Noise tracks and South Horizon from The Buddha Of Suburbia, and adding Crystal Japan and Brilliant Adventure from Hours.... The result is eminently playable, Bowie's purest, most elemental electronic album.

The extraordinary thing about 2001's All Saints is how well it all hangs together, with nine tracks from 1977 flowing easily in and out of the material from the 1990s, the most recent being the brief, but beautiful Brilliant Adventure. The Mysteries could have segued straight into the second side of "Heroes", and Moss Garden into The Buddha Of Suburbia. That continuity is not a result of standing still, but of being able to retain a love of sound, the wish to move forward.

The long loop of All Saints, from 1977 to 1993 and, finally, 2001, takes Bowie near the close of his musical career to date. In 2002 he released Heathen, an excellent record with tinges of sadness and mortality alongside a surprising cover of Neil Young's I've Been Waiting For You. The next year there was Reality and since then there has been nothing. In a strange way All Saints feels like a closing of the circle: a celebration of an extraordinary breakthrough that remained an inspiration and a talisman.

Just as the prophecies of The Man Who Fell To Earth have come to pass - that bank of TV screens, all showing different channels: if only someone could have told us how boring that would become - then the startling futurism of Low and "Heroes" has been borne out by the events of the last thirty-five years. A radical departure then, seemingly out of their time, they continue to exist in their own world, but they also remain signposts to a future that came to pass.

[airadam]

Episode 126 : None More Black

"These evil streets don't sleep..."

- Pharoahe

Here's an idea I've been holding for a while - an episode showcasing Hip-Hop tracks that took a rock sample or influence! I thought it'd be an interesting one to select and mix without reaching for the most obvious standby picks, and we've got tracks spanning almost thirty years at the extreme ends. Don't worry, the guitars come along with plenty of bars and beats!

Links for the month... Michelle Grace Hunder - wicked music photographer!

The Flyest Xmas party on Dec 20th, featuring The Soul Twins

Twitter : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

Ice-T ft. Jello Biafra : Shut Up, Be Happy

One of those tracks that seems more relevant now than ever, this was the opener on Ice-T's underrated 1989 album "The Iceberg". A great marrying of elements, as Jello Biafra of the punk band Dead Kennedys delivers a totalitarian announcement (based on his own "Message From Our Sponsor" over a Black Sabbath loop. I couldn't put this anywhere but as the intro to the episode!

Camp Lo : 82 Afros

Kicking the pace up a touch, we move straight into a killer Camp Lo cut from the "Black Hollywood" LP, with Ski cooking up a banging rock-based beat. The kick and snare are straight boom-bap, but the toms add an unexpected extra element on top of the distorted guitar and vocal sample. Cheeba and Geechi might be known for their smooth styles, but this is just one demonstration of the fact that they can get busy over any kind of beat.

J-Zone : Moonwalk / Gel N' Weave Remix (Instrumental)

I was struggling to find just the right instrumental for this spot, but went back to "The Headband Years" to find this beat from a producer who could make a beat our of almost anything. He's full-time on his funk drumming now, but has a great catalogue of Hip-Hop that can't be fronted on.

Kobaine : Ko.Bain

This is an artist I know very little about, as as far as I'm aware this is his only release to date, a nice little contribution to the 2002 "Subway Series Vol.1" compilation on Major League Entertainment. I got this on digital release which had no credits included, so I'm not sure who produced it - I can imagine it being a Nick Wiz or Tribeca track though.

Agallah : Ag Season

Brownsville's Agallah has often channelled the rockstar vibes in his career, and this woozy-guitared track from "Bo : The Legend of the Water Dragon" sounds entirely natural for him. Self-produced as always, it's short, rock solid, and to the point.

Fabolous : Breathe

Fifteen years old, already? This was a huge single for Fabolous, taken from his "Real Talk" album, and is one of his best-known tracks even after all these years. Just Blaze laced him with a beat based around Supertramp's "Crime of the Century", and got a surprise when Fab told him he'd written his lyrics around the "breathe" vocal sample on the track...because that's not what it said! However, on hearing the bars, Just went back and made some changes to align the audio with what Fab thought he heard!

Ras Kass ft. Killah Priest : Milli Vanilli

Ras Kass' "Quarterly" was collection of tracks he released once a week, finally brought together in late 2009 - and there are some great cuts in there. Here's one, with Veterano's beat sounding like a cybernetic heavy metal group trying to destroy the speaker stack! Ras cuts through it regardless, and special guest Killah Priest (fellow member of THE HRSMN) matches him bar for bar as always. The hook of course channels the then-recent Lil Wayne track "A Milli", which was a heavily-used beat for freestyles around this time.

Body Count : C-Note

This was one of the shorter and gentler tracks on the debut Body Count album, but was always one of my favourites - Ernie C makes that guitar cry for real. Ice-T's metal project was waved off by some doubters in the beginning, but the music was solid from their first appearance on the "OG: Original Gangster" album and they're still killing it to this day.

Bumpy Knuckles : Swazzee

This one is so aggro, you have to love it. Seriously, you'd better. Bumpy Knuckles is in fine form on this guaranteed weight-training motivational track from "Konexion", taking out sucker MCs, snitches, haters, and pretty much everyone else. The hook is reminiscent of an old Sly Stone cut, and Knockout's beat is ferocious - precise, measured drums with the harsh guitar over the top. Bumpy might be the king of the third verse but a track like this lets you know he can handle the first two just fine!

Public Enemy : Go Cat Go

The "He Got Game" soundtrack was unfairly overlooked by too many heads, but is an absolutely worthy entry in Public Enemy's long and storied discography. Chuck D's political awareness and love of sports (he actually wanted to be a sportscaster at one point) combined for a really interesting listen. Jack Dangers of Meat Beat Manifesto and Danny Saber of Black Grape cover this one in heavy guitars which would drown out most MCs, but not Chuck! As the album subtitle says, this one is about the game behind the game...

Boogie Down Productions : Ya Slippin

It's hard to think now of BDP being a crew with a future in doubt, but this is how it was back in 1988 as "By All Means Necessary" was released, not long after the murder of founding DJ Scott La Rock. KRS might be young here but he rhymes with the confidence of someone who left home as a child to become an MC, survived homelessness, and achieved his goal. He scolds weak MCs like "The Teacha" he is, and gets down on the production too - the rock heads will recognise this guitar sample a mile off!

Pharoahe Monch : Got You

Shout out to Vicky T for reminding me of this tune! The lead single from the "Training Day" soundtrack is one where I think the radio version (as heard here) surpasses the original. Monch perfectly encapsulates the essence of Denzel Washington's character, who is one of the classic movie villains of modern times - and strikingly, is based on real police.

[J-Zone] Boss Hog Barbarians : Celph Destruction (Instrumental)

Zone again, and while it one didn't come to mind immediately, the aggressive sonics of this instrumental get it the nod here. The Boss Hog Barbarians (J-Zone and Celph Titled) album is an absolute tribute to ignorance (intentionally), but if you can deal with that then it's an excellent addition to your collection.

LL Cool J : Go Cut Creator Go

Another 80s classic hard rocking track, from LL's "Bigger And Deffer" album. It's the kind of track we don't get now - the MC just bigging up the DJ. DJ Cut Creator was with LL from the very beginning, and was the one who actually helped him to get him name known, so it's nice to hear the appreciation. The scratches still stand up today and cut through even the loudest of the guitar samples on the track!

Sly Boogy : Fatal Mistake

Sly may not have put anything out for a while, but the San Bernadino native did drop a few nice tracks in the early 2000s. This one has him totally disregarding the common standards of Hip-Hop song structure, opening up with a thirty-two bar first verse just to show he's not playing. DJ Revolution provides the cuts, and production is courtesy of a then-emerging Jake One. This actually doesn't have a rock influence, but is here because of how well it goes with the next instrumental...

[Rick Rubin] Jay-Z : 99 Problems (Instrumental)

The combination of this and "Fatal Mistake" is one I discovered while doing a mix years and years ago, and wanted to bring out again when the opportunity arose! You probably all know the vocal version of this track, which appeared on Jay-Z's "The Black Album". While working with the legendary Def Jam co-founder and producer Rubin, Jay said he wanted something like the flavour he used to give to the Beastie Boys and this was the result - a meshing of several ideas that came together perfectly.

Public Enemy : She Watch Channel Zero?!

Let's be real - the sexism is heavy on this track! It'd be entirely reasonable to argue that spending all day watching sports on TV isn't any better than soap operas, but that's just my opinion :) 1988's "...Nation of Millions..." yields this song which had an interesting connection - sampling the group Slayer, who were produced by Def Jam founder and major PE supporter Rick Rubin. 

Lacuna Coil : The Game

Going pure rock on this selection from this veteran Milanese gothic metal band! I actually learned about this group from "Guitar Hero" of all places, and "Our Truth" led me to the 2006 "Karmacode" album that included this track. It always reminded me a little of "Channel Zero", and while the guitar riffs are definitely fire and the drums bang, it's the combined and contrasting vocals of Cristina Scabbia and Andrea Ferro that can't fail to grab your ear.

RJD2 : Exotic Talk

Prog rock meets Hip-Hop sensibilities as RJD2 twists and turns, chilling things out in parts before bringing the thunder crashing back in. Definite standout from 2004's "Since We Last Spoke".

Z-Trip : Rockstar

We close with a standout track from the "Return of the DJ, Volume II" compilation, with Phoenix's Z-Trip putting together a masterpiece of DJ/producer song construction. The sample list is long, and since I don't know what was and wasn't cleared, I won't give anything away here!

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!