Yesterday a cassette of Lou Reed's New York showed up in the mail, which was a surprise to me! I pre-ordered the box set reissue of New York the day it was announced and then forgot about it since I like to be surprised. And when pre-orders arrive I am often delighted. It's a bit of internal theater but it works for me.
So of course upon seeing the cassette I was thrown back to 1989 and when I missed Reed play David Letterman's show when it spent a week filming in Chicago. I was all prepared to go into detail about that since it remains one of my biggest regrets—though I did finally get a chance to see Reed play before he left us all—when I realized I'd already documented that whole experience on Chicagoist almost seven years ago.
Luckily these days I have a better sense of when I'm repeating myself, so just read the original piece if you want the deets. Otherwise, enjoy a video with slightly better quality of the performance than the one I shared in 2013.
Since the world is a dumpster fire right now, both literally and figuratively, and the pressure seems to only be increasing on everyone about everything, so this week I'm interrupting the previously planned editorial calendar to focus on music that is uplifting or transporting in a positive way for anyone who might need a 30 to 50 minute respite from it all before going back to fight the good fight.
Another rule I haven't shared about selecting the music I've shared this week is that I wanted it to be so accessible that my mom wold enjoy it, even if the musicians making the tunes were a complete mystery to her.* Today's entry totally meets that standard, and is a truly remarkable album, suffused with love, hope, and joy.
I don't really want to ruin The Freedom Affair's Freedom Is Love by trying to describe it further, but just in case you need an additional nudge, the vibe is very early '70s soul flirting with both gospel and a few psychedelic R&B touches, and their choir of voices should appeal to both the dusty soul junkie and the choral aficionado who deeply appreciates group singing.**
I hope you deeply dig it!
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BONUS ALBUM: The Freedom Affair knocked the other album in contention for today out of the running at the last minute. I had planned on sharing some early Polyphonic Spree because a) it's been so long since they were last active I think most people have forgotten them and even more never heard of 'em, b) I was definitely looking for something with a chorus of voice, and c) it would allow me to again mention I saw the band crammed into The Empty Bottle on their first tour.
I was also originally going to post The Beginning Stages Of..., but at the last minute decided Together We're Heavy would more immediatley appeal to my mom more. So enjoy this bonus album to close out the week.
*I may have stretched this rule a bit with the Superchunk entry. My mom tends to appreciate more traditionally "controlled" singing from her vocalists, but I think the melody of the singing paired with the song's energy would still be appealing to her. Bit I haven't asked since she had no idea that was even one of my considerations when posting these.
**What I call the "Plotz preference" after David Plotz's famous love of group singing.
Since the world is a dumpster fire right now, both literally and figuratively, and the pressure seems to only be increasing on everyone about everything, so this week I'm interrupting the previously planned editorial calendar to focus on music that is uplifting or transporting in a positive way for anyone who might need a 30 to 50 minute respite from it all before going back to fight the good fight.
Unbeknownst to you dear reader, I had a number of rules around this series that I started breaking almost immediately. But one I am sticking to is that any of the music I suggest be available through Bandcamp, because it offers the best streaming experience coupled with the ability to easily purchase the music you're listening to. I've had to make a few last-minute adjustments due to that rule as I've gone along, so that helps explain today's delayed entry, but here it is!
Another thing I've tried to do is avoid most pop stuff, since that is usually built to trigger joy and seems both a little obvious and rather susceptible to your response being, "C'mon man, tell me something I don't know." Well, if you've read my writing in other places over the years you're already aware of Bleached, but you might not be aware just how excellent last year's Don't You Think You've Had Enough? really is. So consider this me telling you something you might not know.
On Don't You Think You've Had Enough? Bleached takes the killer hooks they used to smear over with a wash of guitars, and pulls them to the forefront, bolstering them with a newfound precision that sounds oh-so very human when it could be rendered to sound machine-like in less skilled hands.
Also, the material absolutely rips on stage.
So you have something to look forward to whenever it's safe for bands to tour again. But until then, this is so full of life and so freaking catchy it should help hold you over.
Since the world is a dumpster fire right now, both literally and figuratively, and the pressure seems to only be increasing on everyone about everything, so this week I'm interrupting the previously planned editorial calendar to focus on music that is uplifting or transporting in a positive way for anyone who might need a 30 to 50 (or in today's case, 3) minute respite from it all before going back to fight the good fight.
Instead of a feel-good album, here's a feel-good song for the day. I first heard this Superchunk track when they originally shared it as a fee download in 2012, though I can't remember which website got the "exclusive." Much like yesterday's entry spoke about music bending time, "This Summer" manages to somehow cram what feels like an epic anthem into 3 minutes, and that includes a slowly building intro that manages to take up almost a minute of that time before things really explode.
So why share just one song today? Because this one song has come to my rescue so many times in the past I literally can't keep count. There is something at its core that is so suffused with life and joy, it is one of my two go-to songs in an emergency where the interior world needs rebalancing and my mood needs a boost. And it has never failed to lift my mood, so maybe this will be your secret weapon to fighting off the darkness as well.
Since the world is a dumpster fire right now, both literally and figuratively, and the pressure seems to only be increasing on everyone about everything, so this week I'm interrupting the previously planned editorial calendar to focus on music that is uplifting or transporting in a positive way for anyone who might need a 30 to 50 (or in today's case, 20) minute respite from it all before going back to fight the good fight.
Today's entry featuring music to make you feel good is a weird one for this series, I'll admit. Even I thought all these posts would feature immediately recognizable "up with people" tunes, but one of my main criteria for uplifting music is that it transports you to a better place, and on the No Horizon EP Wye Oak certainly takes you to a different plane.
It's a world of aching beauty given power through hope and and the openness to something bigger than you in this world. The entire EP lasts a brief 20 minutes, but the space within those minutes is far larger, creating a weirdly pleasant dissociative effect as the music literally takes you into a different temporal dimension.
I know this all sounds very highfalutin and one might think I'm describing the exact opposite of comforting, feel-good music.* But once you start the little journey into No Horizon it will all make sense and you'll come out the other side of this EP feeling refreshed and positive.
And then you'll have a trusty quick musical hit to turn to when you just need a few minutes to reenergize throughout the day.
*Did you know highfalutin doesn't require an apostrophe at the end? I was today-years-old when I discovered that!
Since the world is a dumpster fire right now, both literally and figuratively, and the pressure seems to only be increasing on everyone about everything, so this week I'm interrupting the previously planned editorial calendar to focus on music that is uplifting or transporting in a positive way for anyone who might need a 30 to 50 minute respite from it all before going back to fight the good fight.
Nada Surf is a band who offered distinct different entry points to different people over the years. I was introduced to them as a prematurely labeled one-hit wonder, but many others probably became fans during the group's early shift from more straightforward alterna-rock and started exploring deeper lyrical complexities while opening up their sound. Which means emo fans went ga-ga over albums like Let Go. This is not a veiled insult. And it opened the band to a broader reconsideration by the populace, to the benefit of all.
And then Nada Surf did the unspeakable: they just kept releasing really high quality music with an emotionally accessible core that felt spiritual and uplifting even when the lyrics might've veered into more dour or raw territory. And just kept the quality way up, over and over again. And I think people took them somewhat for granted because of that.
And Nada Surf did nothing to counter that viewpoint, and kept releasing a stable run of really impressive albums. So in some ways their constant excellence may be their biggest barrier to more widespread acclaim?
This year's Never Not Together came out in February with huge touring and promotional plans ... and then disappeared from most of the musical conversations as the world shut down.* This is depressing not only because the album really deserves your attention, but also because it's truly a tonic for the soul. Jubilantly uplifting clouds of energetically strumming guitars lift you ever higher, song after song. And lest you miss the higher spiritual (not religious, spiritual) aspirations, halfway though one song kicks off with a choir.**
This is spiritual music in the life-affirming, good-for-you, feed the soul category. And most importantly, you just feel good, and positive, and human after riding its waves for 42 minutes. Repeat as needed.
*I know, a constant refrain from me these days, but worth repeating since it really is stunning how much terrific music has just disappeared this year with no touring to help keep the new works in the news cycle and heighten exposure.
**The shift between the frenetic "Something I Should Do" and the softer yearning of "Looking For You" is just so perfect.
If we don't do something now, this time next year we will have no independent venues left, with only corporate owned entities that could financially survive the pandemic still standing.
If this is all tl;dr to you or someone you know, then this quote near the end of Weissmann's piece might help promote action—it wouldn't take much for congress to save an entire industry that hasn't been fiscally irresponsible for decades.*
The Save Our Stages Act is not expensive; the total cost is $10 billion. It’s not clear if anybody in Congress even opposes it. The problem is that, as of now, Congress appears to have reached a point where it will either pass one gargantuan aid package or nothing at all. At the moment, the prospects for a grand bargain on relief spending are looking increasingly dim. Last week, I asked Schumer’s office if they thought there was any chance that Save Our Stages could get a floor vote on its own; they told me to ask Cornyn’s office. When I asked Cornyn’s, I got silence.
*I mean in comparison to something like the airline or oil industries. I've certainly known plenty of financially irresponsible club owners, but they never regularly asked for government bailouts to counter their personal stupidity.
I am old school and still not only own an external CD drive, I use it often! Despite a very long history with the digital side of things, I still prefer hard physical media I can keep, long after a subscription service dies, or a corporation or artist decides they no longer want you to have that thing you bought digitally. Or worse, they update the version you bought digitally to "improve it" without you knowing, often with less than stellar results.
Of course, before today, I never quite knew what to do every time I'd find a slice of ham in there. But now I do, and you do too. Whew!
There is another wave of great new music arriving on everyone's "shores" that started a few weeks ago and shows no sign of abating in the next few weeks. So be on the lookout for some great new stuff to add to your listening rotation (and perhaps your permanent music collection, hm?) coming up from me in the next couple weeks. Hopefully some stuff for Third Coast Review too!
So that should take care of your ears and soul, at least a little bit. I also keep vacillating between whether to share some of my inner struggles during these times. I was like, "Does anyone really care, and even if they do, am I doing anyone any good? Or am I just making everyone even sadder?"
Well, I sat and thought about it and realized just how many personal pieces I've been reading by other writers, even those that tend to keep what's on the inside out ion the public eye. And no matter their background, every story shared made me feel less alone. And it helps me recognize which thoughts are just anxiety monsters out there to get in your way, so I can brush them aside toot sweet by thinking them through and doing a little slow breathing to get grounded again.
See, even that last sentence might help someone out there, no matter what their situation may be.
For instance, I had an excellent weekend. It was maybe the first weekend since this all started that actually felt too short! And all I really did was walk about 10 miles each day, and help set up a yard sale with some friends on Sunday. Being around others, even at a distance, was exactly what I needed.
The only downside is once I got home each day it did suddenly feel even more barren and empty than usual. So Pickle the Kitten probably got more attention than she wanted, and eventually I realized the feeling was just a passing thing and tomorrow was another day and I wasn't going to be so isolated and alone most of time forever. And neither will you.
So, that helped. And the takeaway is that there is still so much out there for us all, we just have to be patient and do the right thing for everyone's health in order to get there. And we will!
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SOMEWHAT RELATED: I have an honest question—how is your relationship with music nowadays? Are you constantly listening or not at all? Binging old favorites or discovering new acts? Throwing everything on shuffle or consuming albums at a time?
I'm curious and would really like to know!
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BONUS CONTENT: I can't ask you to kick off the week without a song after all that, now can I? So please enjoy this incredible return to the music scene from my previous kickball teammates. If they are truly back in action, then that's one more thing we can notch as good in the good v. evil column for 2020.
Yup, the pandemic is not just allowing lesser known artists to slip under my radar, I'm missing out on stuff from acts I love! And Dead Stars definitely fits into the "love" category. And their latest LP Never Not Here was released in February. So I immediately bought and downloaded it Monday night as soon as my mistake was revealed.*
In an era where many band are taking their cues from '90s indie rock, Dead Stars have always shone a little more brightly. Their songs are a little tighter, and their guitars chug along balancing a sprightly groove with darker chugging undercurrents. And the vocals rely on melodies you can actually whistle or hum, which helps move them further up the ladder in, in my humble opinion that is often lacking in music that flirts with shoegaze and pop at the same time.
Never Not Here keeps up the good fight and keeps Dead Stars near the top of my list of contemporary faves right now. I think you'll find there's a space for them on your list as well.
*I do have to admit I'm bummed I never had a chance to buy the limited edition CD release of the album—bands are getting inventive outside of vinyl!—but that's the price you pay for losing track of a band's release!
I, like many, walk a lot nowadays. All over the place. And it's a primary activity for thinking and moving time along instead of sitting and stewing. So I've been outside more this summer than probably any summer in my adult past.
But yesterday I went to the beach and almost cried at the sight.
In Chicago, the lake is a living thing, and we draw power from it. I swear that's the truth. I may live in a city, and love the city, but my nature boy needs feeding too. Luckily, if I take a bus straight down the street from the end of my block it takes me right to the northern section of Lincoln Park that borders Montrose Beach. Yesterday was the first time I'd done that this year, and the first time I saw a large body of water since last year. Easily.
I made the trek fully expecting to turn around and go home once I got to my destination if crowds were large or things seemed unsafe. There was a huge police barricade reading "Park Closed" to drivers, but other than that the scene was pretty mellow and there was lots of space to stay far, far apart. The beach itself is fenced off, so I acted like a grown-up and viewed the water from a distance, and that was plenty for this beleaguered soul.
It's not that we don't see green and blue nature things in the city, but they are almost always framed within the contrasts of the city. So a park is lovely, but its boundaries are easily visible, and the experience it offers is more oasis and less full retreat. So when you can envelop yourself in a park or a beach and the only sign you're in a city is the skyline in the distance, it is a different type of nourishing experience than simply setting out there and taking in some fresh air.
So, that's it! I went to the beach! And, given how cold and dreary this morning is turning out to be, I made it in the nick of time!
