It’s only been in recent times that opening credits for TV shows seem to matter artistically, at least to me. I never gave them much thought and would often just skip them if that was an option. But queue up a wonderful show like Pachinko, based on the 2017 novel by Min Jin Lee, and it’s no longer automatic. It can be its own tiny moment of genius, and in this case, the near-perfect blend of music, image, and sheer…
A thought or two on some recent music. One relatively new song, “Chaise Longue,” from June of this year, and another, “S.O.B,” from 2015. Wildly divergent genres, eliciting wildly divergent reactions. Couldn’t be more different, I suppose. Wet Leg is a band from the Isle of Wight, headed by Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers, names seemingly taken from a Nathaniel Hawthorne novel. The music they make? Not so much. More like something out of Boris Vian, by way of Sally…
New music, as a concept, has taken a bit of a hit lately. As in, it’s not all that apparent any longer when that label should be attached to a song, a record, a musician’s work, or when it needs to be qualified with lengthy explanatory notes to nowhere and fools on the hill. Because of the pandemic, and the relentless uncertainties attached, more and more musicians seem to be “dropping” their singles months before their albums, and may miss…
Well, not really. As far as I know, they’re not holding forth about this and that with one another, at least not yet. But I do think Ms. Parks would make a fine addition to the Boy Genius lineup of Phoebe Bridgers, Julien Baker, and Ms. Dacus. The current (sometime) lineup seems incredibly unified, the voices, the vibe, the same potential for volcanic eruptions after thoughtful, nearly shy expressions of angst. And those depths. The oceanic quivers of recognition and…
Okay, so, yeah. It’s entirely subjective. The best of. The best that. The top of the heap. Towering over us all like ancient mountains. The pinnacles and centers and foundations of the Sublime, the extraordinary, the heat from a thousand suns and so on. Who was the best? And what stands out amidst their own medleys of genius, as we climb ever higher and higher? As in, among those deathless glories, those white hot suns, which work rates as the…
I’ll cast my vote and go further: it’s arguably the best rock song of the 21st century — so far. Penned, sung, riffed and hit out of the park by the British duo, Ida Mae (Christopher Turpin and Stephanie Jean Turpin), this checks all my boxes for entrance into the Hall of Cool, and its niche, Foot Stomping Slanky. “Click Click Domino” is what rock used to mean, and apparently still does to some. Lester Bangs would be proud. Divine…
Labels can get us into trouble. They can needlessly restrict the mind and the heart. They can truncate views, and hopes and dreams. But they also save time, or terabytes, or bandwidth, as the case may be. No one likes them. But they can be kinda sorta useful for a moment or two. Okay. So with this singer/songwriter, a past band-mate with a previous subject on Spinozablue, Phoebe Freakin’ Bridgers, I’ll throw out a few to see if any of…
Yin and Yang. Yesterday and today. We follow soft and low with loud and high. This could be filtered, of course, biased and different due to age and so on, but I don’t care. As in, yeah, I’m a Classic Rock, Classic Blues kind of guy, but I want to see it burst into the present and beyond. So what might represent the relatively new? At least 21st century Rock, Blues, Punk, Garage? This might be a pretty good start:…
Precocious is a beautiful word. Its shush sound is both warning and invitation – to be quiet, listen, and just pay attention for a moment or two. Perhaps not with a full Simone Weil unit (henceforth known as SW7). But at least turn off the damn phone! Getting closer to the point, but some house-cleaning first: Yeah, I’m pretty late to the dance on this one, at least writing about her. Am embarrassed to admit I first bumped into her…
I don’t know why. Heard it on the radio and I thought a moment, a place, a thing or two. It’s likely not what she intended. But, artists know all about that. They know once they give birth, the child goes where it will. So, that’s why, I suppose Loneliness is not the same as being a alone. You can be profoundly, dangerously lonely in a group, a marriage, a family. You can be deliriously not lonely all by yourself….