The Disruption of New Music in the Age of Covid

The Disruption of New Music in the Age of Covid

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 the due dates for the latter. Finding any kind of logic in the gaps now escapes me, and my sense of time was already pretty much shot to begin with, three decades into the Age of the Pandemic.

I’m not exactly certain when all of this started, when the Erratic became the Norm, when scheduling Release Dates became entirely futile, but I imagine it was long, long ago, and far, far away. Perhaps it was the first time Neanderthals and Sapiens clashed in their man-caves, as they bragged about who had the best goat-skin pluckers, and tossed endless pints of mead at one another, cackling merrily all the while. Regardless, it’s all starting to get on my nerves.

Now, you may be asking, what brought on such unrest and frustration, and how does any of it explain the former existence of eight-track cassettes? Well, it’s likely just further reflection on my last post, starring Arlo Parks and Lucy Dacus, respectively. Or, just a food-induced bad dream. Whatever the case, hundreds of years ago, when I first started paying attention to the latest this or that Rock god or goddess, singles tended to follow the full release of albums. Now, it’s mostly the reverse. Arlo Parks, for example, started dropping singles for her album, Collapsed in Sunbeams, nearly a year before it was finally released this past January, and Lucy Dacus started that process more than a full season prior to Home Video coming out in late June.

In short, there’s a giant crack in the Space-Time continuum, and I can’t wait until I find a sublime answer to . . . a radical way to overcome . . .  caring one iota, one way or another.

More new paintings follow — in the spirit of mixed up calendars, lost time, and better days ahead:

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