Containing, among other things, my humble effort to bring my fellow sixty(ish) year olds up to date on some current, and frankly, not so current, pop music.
Every time I say something about a Brian Eno album, I fear I'm not adequately conveying how alien his work can be. And as that goes, this album is a pretty good example. No pretty piano or voices like Music for Airports. No specially-treated piano sounds like The Pearl. No concessions to pop music (guitars, drums, melodies, etc.) like Another Green World. In short, no obvious heart. It's here. He just doesn't flaunt it. It is, as we say, what it is.
And what it is works perfectly for me at the moment. A recent medical setback has me yearning for the minimal input I can still handle, and this does the trick.
Slightly out of reach, but when I check, it's still there, asking nothing of me. It's a deal.
But I can't play it all day. I need some other records that hit the mark as well. So I tried to find something new to match the mood: cool, almost sterile, coming from the vast surrounding darkness:
Dove Ellis: Blizzard (2025): I was hoping for something more stark. But this Irishman is one of those expressive ones. Weird. A bit like John Martyn but less bluesy. And having had two blizzards in the past two weeks, I thought it might be apt. But the title could refer to the repose you may experience if you're stuck inside your house for days at a time. Or more obviously, the storm itself. I assumed the former and was mistaken. So I'm in no real position to judge it at this time. All I know is that I can't listen to it right now.
Bon Iver: For Emma, Forever Ago (2008): Based on its reputation, I thought it would be cold and barren. Not so. Annoyingly, not so. Given its reputation, I had much higher hopes for it. But I just may not be in a position to judge. So I put it aside.
So rather than another swing and miss, I decided to check what I already have:
Joanna Newsom?: Practically no "production" at all would seem perfect. Alas, she's a bit...wacky.
Cindy Lee: Diamond Jubilee: I thought it might be too recent, but it did get me through the earlier phase of this medical issue, so why not now? And it works.
A Break?:
My health being what it is, in the event that I'm not up to all this I may take a little break.
You don't need me to tell you how f*cked up 2024 was. I'll try to identify some silver linings.
Executive Summary:
Music: Pop music good, if not exactly in my comfort zone. Jazz, Blues, and Oldies wonderful. Weirdos thriving. (More to come on that).
Music/Personal: No longer striving for competence on guitar.
Personal: Retired and grandfather of two. Getting old fast.
Politics: Everybody knows the war is over, everybody knows the bad guys won. Fascism is cool again, apparently. The young folks - men, mostly - let us down.
Humans:
Best:
Jimmy Carter
Adam Kinzinger
Liz Cheney
Many, many others who, in my current state, I just can't bring to mind. Feel free to write in some names.
Worst:
The ever-expanding "Usual Suspects", as I called them last year, make a repeat appearance here. I'll only make special mention of their Rookie of the Year, Nancy Mace, whose popularity confirms the existence of a new mini-industry busily producing Awful Women, like veterans Elise Stefanik, Nicole Malliotakis, Marsha Blackburn, Kristi Noem, and others. However, I will risk being accused of sexism by saying they'll never quite match the production of Awful Men. But keep up the bad work gals!
Best Books:
During this, my first year of retirement, my ambition was to "just lie down on the damn couch and read a f*cking book or two".
And I did! I read all of the following books with great enthusiasm:
The following are part of my World History Project, which has now reached the end of the American Civil War. I read a lot more than these five, but these are the best of the lot:
Lincoln by Gore Vidal: Vidal could be pompous in interviews and lectures but he did work his ass off to get his historical fiction right. I read this alongside Team of Rvals, and was in awe of his grasp of the details. And, like Burr, it's funny too.
Best Movies:
I did manage to get out and see a few movies, but the only one worth mentioning here is A Complete Unknown. What it may be lacking in specific details, it more than makes up for with Timothee Chalamet's performance (and performances). Ed Norton is also great as Pete Seeger. The music is pretty great, too.
Best TV:
Somebody Somewhere
I May Destroy You
Insecure
Bodkin
Best Concerts:
Still none. I'm still waiting for one that's worth time/trouble/$.
Daniel Nigro, producer of both Olivia Rodrigo and Chappell Roan
Best Albums of My Year:
Billie Eilish: Where Do We Go When We Fall Asleep? - The key to this young lady, and what eventually wore me down - is not the loopy sound effects (that's her brother). It's the songwriting that stays consistent from beginning to the very end.
Jimi Hendrix: The Cry of Love - Not a masterpiece. Just a very consistent (that again!) yet relaxed set of tunes with great guitar playing.
Chappell Roan: The Rise and Fall of a Midwestern Princess - I'll get to this at another time, but in short, she edges out Olivia by the sheer volume of hooks and emotion she brings to the table. Geez!
Olivia Rodriguez: Guts - A smart young woman. NOT worse than Chappell. Just a bit more professional sounding, which is both a plus and a minus.
The Chills: Brave Words - Another one for a later time. RIP Martin Phillips.
Some of the best songs I heard this year can be found here.
Oh, and Mrs. Jaybee's Favorites:
Beyonce:Cowboy Carter
Billie Eilish: Where Do We Go When We Fall Asleep?
Gorillaz: Cracker Island
Bill Withers: The Ultimate Collection
Amy Winehouse:Back to Black
Conclusions:
Now with two granddaughters, I'm slowly beginning to understand what life is all about. I hope I'm not too late.
Pop continues to grow - sometimes away from me. That's okay. I don't have to be in the middle of it. As long as I can find some electric guitar music - now a small sub-section of pop - I'll be okay.
Jazz and blues (and oldies, and older pop) will always be there to fill the gap. I was hoping to keep you informed about new stuff, but if old stuff is new to both of us what's wrong with that?
And finally, I have come to realize that most of my countrymen think a dictator is someone who is NOT popular. A little more education might have helped. One can only hope the bad guys form a circular firing squad.
Given how one of our esteemed political parties was accused of being weird this election year, I could have called this post "Weirdos, Part 3", but since I'd rather focus on music, I decided not to.
This one's about music for a special occasion, which the advent of fascism kinda is, doncha think?
Upon hearing the election results I didn't need an analysis. I didn't want some smarty pants nabob explaining things to me. Oh, I wanted to know the why and how all right, but the habit of our media ecosystem to provide an explanation while the fucking thing is still happening just rubs me the wrong way, even if that explanation were to be correct. (It wasn't, of course.)
It's the same reason why I watch the Superbowl with the sound off. The event itself is quite enough thank you. I don't need the additional aural input. I could see what was going on, and now just f*cking needed quiet.
Well, not complete silence, mind you - just something that takes that as a starting point, and adds the least possible amount of stuff to end up with something I can deal with. In other words, something that doesn't try to match the energy level of said media ecosystem.
Last time, I mentioned a few records that one might think would fit the bill. But no. They were good at dealing with negative possibilities. I needed something to get me through negative realities. Not overtly political music, either. Just music for (God forgive me for using this word) existential realities.
When I bought King of the Delta Blues Singersabout forty years ago I had trouble getting into it. I was young and still had a smidgen of hope. Not even Reagan could inspire me to gaze into the abyss from which it emerged.
But this year, in the months leading up to November 5, I could listen to this two-CD set in its entirety and love every second. Was I - or it - tapping it a general vibe portending the collapse of what little was left of our social contract?
This collection has alternate versions of some songs, which some folks might find annoying. If so, King of the Delta Blues Singersis for you. But for now, listening to the complete recordings is a willful act - the equivalent of refusing to leave my room until this new era is over.
Funny story about this band. A few years ago, I was listening to their eighth album, 2001's Things We Lost in the Fire. It took until near the end of it for me to notice that - probably due to a syncing issue - iTunes had two copies of each song and was playing them in numeric order. In other words, like this: First song, First song again, Second song, Second song again, etc.
I remember thinking wow this album is longer than I realized. But since the songs were so glacial, mournful, and quiet I didn't notice they ended and started again. I thought, well, that's the way they are. They're slow so why wouldn't there be a pause in the middle of each one?
This time around, I'm listening to their first record where, if anything, they're even more quiet and mournful. I had to listen hard (even with the hearing aids) to confirm there were drums. Oh, yeah, there they are. But there's no beat to speak of here, except that of nails being hammered into a coffin.
Low's music comprises one man and one woman singing in harmony. He plays a muted electric guitar. She plays the drums. They sound like they're in an abandoned church. Their sound fills that space better than any organ or sermon would.
One-word song titles, cryptic, minimal, vaguely menacing lyrics about various states of isolation, disrepair, and dislocation, that don't become explicit until you get to "Rope", followed by their straight version of "You Are My Sunshine".
It's cold, but oddly beautiful. In other words, everything The Marble Index was aiming for but missed. Ripe for parody, but I dare ya.
Perfect for the day after a particularly tough election.
I used this as a palette cleanser in between listening to Captain Beefheart and Nico, who I always (well, since just now) saw as an ideal couple.
I've done my best to get exposed to all the top-tier jazz geniuses and am only now getting around to the next-level players. And if you think that's a knock I recommend you listen to "Freddy Freeloader" from Kind of Blue. Yeah, it's the ever-searching Coltrane who takes you to Mars, but Adderley's relaxed, open solo tells you how great things can be here on Earth.
Adderley worked for Davis on KOB and Milestones. Here Davis returns the favor, and one could be forgiven for thinking it's a Davis record. If it is, it's one of his best.
If Kind of Blue is quiet jazz played and heard in the middle of the night, then Somethin' Else is the jazz played - and heard - the following morning, after everyone has had their coffee and is ready to take on the day.
"I cannot figure out how anyone in their right mind could give this record a good review. You would have to be insane. In this day and age, to have a producer mix the sound of this record/CD to the extent of ruining the vocals is beyond me. This may have been a really good record if the vocals were able to be heard. The music for the most part is really catchy and well done. But, having to listen to the vocals so low ruins the listening experience. I cannot imagine that the band was alright with this, and if they were, shame on you. Terrible all the way around and a huge waste of money."
Now, for Jaybee, that's a rave. I should say upfront that I was already a fan of the Feelies' first record, the nervous, jittery Crazy Rhythms. But I needed a push to go back for seconds. Thanks Gaffa!
Poor Gaffa. The vocals don't remind him of Lou Reed and the ominous momentum doesn't remind him of the Velvet Underground. Of course, mere imitation would never be enough, and the Feelies know that, so they're faster, cleaner, and more modest.
Peter Buck from REM (another band known at the time for murky vocals) produces here, and suddenly the two band's similarities are obvious. REM's own third record - made the year before - is good but a little too tangled in the kudzu. This one beats it. The next REM record - while still short of magic - was a little snappier, thanks, I believe, to the influence of this record.
Alas, some of the Feelies' lovable/scary awkwardness got left behind (I can only wonder what Gaffa would have thought of Crazy Rhythms), the chord progressions are well-worn, and the solos usually stick to the scales. And yet they still sound great. Besides their trademark furious strumming, the guitars now chime and echo, too.
This, their second album, was made six years after their debut. During those years they broke up and then re-formed with a slightly different lineup. That experience may account for some of the lyrical themes. Topics include not flying, taking the road, being away too long, and even company. In other words, rock cliches with aging added for spice, and sung in a manner that fits the music like a glove and makes one hear them as if for the first time. What a relief from singers who sing them as if they're hearing them for the first time.
The cover of "She Said She Said" is less than essential but it's the thought that counts.
There is no funk here, and no syncopation I can hear. Just drums and bass marching in lockstep with those guitars. The sound of a renewed commitment after some setbacks.
Great! I’m usually complaining about now but this time around I really can’t.
There hasn’t been anything quite as great as last year’s Teens of Denial by Car Seat Headrest, but 2017 was way more consistent than 2016.
It’s been such a good year musically that even though I didn't get any great holiday (my definition) music, I realize that was probably too much to ask for. In a way, I did get it, just too early, and everything since then has been trying to catch up. Most of it great stuff, too. Just not for the holidays.
It was so good that my son’s record - good as it is - just made the top 10. But I have to grade him hard here, don’t I?
And how bad a year was it?
Well, my mom died in 2017, along with an uncle, aunt and cousin. I made a playlist for her. The effort involved digging into a lot of music from my childhood, which was emotionally draining. So it’s a good thing that the music was there for me.
And, of course, there’s this sociopath trying to destroy the country, but hey, what the fuck, right?
(I Still Suck at) Resolutions:
I still say “awesome” and “let's get on the same page” way too much.
I don’t get 10,000 steps in a day.
I don’t write 1,000 words per day.
I don’t exercise.
I don’t eat enough vegetables.
I eat too many sweets. (Hey, I thought dark chocolate was a health food!)
I could probably cut down on the drinking a bit.
So how can you expect me to follow my musical resolutions, like getting guitar lessons from my son Michael?
Catching up on the current decade: I’ll be focusing on the 2010s and so may not do so well on the Current Year Music resolutions. Nothing like clashing resolutions to start off a successful year!
6. Car Seat Headrest: Teens of Style (2015) - Some hooks and sounds even more brilliant than Denial, but hampered by airplane-hangar sound. 7. Jon Hopkins: Immunity (2013) - In a genre not reknown for deep emotion, this one wears you down until you hear the heart beating underneath.
Pop beat out everything. It beat out hip-hop and jazz. Hip-hop because it’s not one of a go-to genre of mine, and jazz because those records were already familiar to me and thus lose out to the new.
One might think protest music would be the order of the day but sometimes pop - not stupid, empty pop, but instead smart, brainy pop - was the right medicine.
Last year’s music gave me hope. Let’s see how far into 2018 it gets me.
My posts are almost comically untimely, but thanks to a pathetic asshole with a rented truck, I’m momentarily back in sync with the rest of the world.
9/11:
I remember. Usually it's things immediately surrounding the day, as opposed to the day itself, which will always be a f*cking nightmare, and just too much to bear.
I remember a lot of friends and family members covered in soot walking across bridges to get home. And later finding out about three acquaintances who didn’t make it. Me? I got off scot-free, and still feel residual survivor’s guilt. (Beat’s the hell out of not surviving, right Jaybee? Right.)
I remember places, too. Spots where you can stand and be pretty certain somebody died right there.
And things, like charred pieces of paper floating all the way to my house in Brooklyn.
And about what would happen next. It turned out even worse than I imagined.
And how long it took to feel joy about anything. You have to mourn first. And then have some hope.
And yes, I remember music, too. What I was hearing at the time, but also what it made me feel under those circumstances. Sometimes not at all what the artist intended. But a handy container for my emotions nonetheless.
The memories feel frustratingly random, until I suddenly realize why I'm remembering it.
Like how, in late August of that year I was at J&R Music World - my favorite record store at the time - which was just a few blocks from the Trade Center. And how, while I was there, a dozen firemen came in to check on a reported smoke condition. Then it hits me how unlikely it was that any of those guys made it on 9/11.
I bought a lot of records that day, but don’t play them often. Like Luna’s Penthouse, an otherwise excellent record, but one whose lyrics and music - admittedly taken out of context - only serve to remind me of the day:
Like “Chinatown”: In the tiny tiny hours Between the evening and the day We have placed our final bets We have come out to play
Lookin' lost in chinatown Why are we hidin' from our friends Rushing 'round in taxi cabs Is it time to make amends
You'll get yours and i'll get mine You can't be lucky all the time
It’s about running around the city late at night and having fun. But to me it sounds like the end of the era of a carefree New York.
And “Sideshow by the Sea Shore”: And all the comforting words Provide no comfort We can all go mad together That's what friends are for
Maybe about not having a good time at Coney Island, but under the circumstances the words sting.
“Moon Palace” is meant to sound slow and lazy, like most of the rest of the album, but it ends up sounding shellshocked and weary.
Mourning and Hope:
Earlier that year, I started a new job, which began to suck almost immediately. I consoled myself with streamed music (at least until the network manager told me I was being naughty).
Those music streaming services never quite persuaded me to get anything by the bands they played, possibly because in my mind they all got jumbled up into the big messy ball that was 9/11 and an awful job.
But this past 9/11 got me thinking about that time again. And I finally felt comfortable enough to get something by a couple of those bands.
And the opening lines to the first song “Sunflower” begin: When they found your body...
Well, it certainly starts in the right place, doesn't it?
This one is all about texture and harmonics. The pace is funereal - it rarely picks up to even a trot.
The two lead vocalists sing low and minor key harmonies most of the time. Nothing very sweet here. And on the rare occasion when they get a little melodramatic, it doesn’t work for me.
The moody, mournful tone is otherwise sustained throughout the record, yet I’m never bored. That's pretty impressive.
And it expresses - accidentally or not - what I’m feeling about that day, and 10/31/17, for that matter.
They sound like an American version of the Sundays, especially when they play fast, but that isn’t too often.
Karen Peris’ sandpaper voice is a little too cute for my taste and the “hit” “Gone to Yellow” has what had sounded to me as a contrived melody. I took it as being pretty on the outside but maybe a little hollow inside.
But their insistently melodic songs (which would have sounded vulgar in late 2001) won me over. The lyrics aren’t dumb. Just sweet.
Like in "Keeping Awake": Hearing your voice in the blue light Calming people in the house Traveling upstairs - Good to be there Now, right now
Like someone who arrived home safely - something we can’t take for granted anymore.
I catch religious overtones in the words, which are not my cup of tea, but if it brings them hope who am I to complain?
And Hope, like I said, is what you need if you ever expect to get to joy again.
Is it wrong to want joy after all that horror? It does feel a little selfish sometimes. I guess as long as it isn’t heedless - of what happened or of what is happening now - it’s okay.
After all, we’ll need our strength. And I don’t where else to get that from except joy.
And it turns out that even Luna has a little hope, even if it’s just in the music itself:
