The Absence of Physical Engagement

I have a vivid recollection from my teenage years of observing a neighborhood couple seated on their front yard, using weed pullers to extract dandelions from their lawn. I remember looking at them with contempt and thinking, “If I ever consider weeding my lawn a day’s accomplishment, shoot me.” If I had flashed forward thirty years, I would have observed the 50-something version of me happily pulling weeds from his yard. In fact, I’m pretty sure if the fifteen-year-old me could see me today, he’d probably blow his brains out. But the thing is, I’m happy being the fifty something version of me, and tinkering in the yard or in my workshop is – for me – one of life’s simple pleasures. Sure, by the middle of August I want autumn to arrive and cajole my yard into dormancy, but the joys of spring are undeniable.

But a little yard work is a far cry from mankind’s roots. For most of us, the days of hunting, gathering, farming, cutting, chiseling and building are long gone. For the past several hundred years, we’ve done everything we can to delegate our active engagement with our natural surroundings to machines or to other people. I think of the stereotypical commercials from the 1950s geared toward housewives, touting the benefits of a vacuum cleaner or dishwasher and how much time will be freed up as a result, but of course the trend to free our time started long before the post-war years, and we’re all active participants.

Few of us grow our own food. Even fewer of us create our own fabric and sew our own clothing. Not many of us can build our own homes or the furniture and household items in it. And so what, right? Mankind has flourished largely as a result of the increased efficiency of specialization. If experts take care of many of our day-to-day activities, then we can become experts in some other activity, and society as a whole benefits.

But I do wonder what’s been lost along the way, and I wonder if there is any limit to our avoidance of manual and mental labor. Those of us with yards may no longer cut our lawns, plant flowers, lay down mulch, rake leaves or shovel our driveways or sidewalks. Others may have a cleaning service for their home’s interior. Some of us no longer shop for food or other items, having them delivered to our doors instead, and most of us outsource cooking to restaurants on a regular basis. Some hire nannies or daycares to look after their children and hire tutors to manage their kids’ homework or to prepare them for college entrance exams. We may have someone else managing our finances and preparing our taxes. We may also outsource teaching things like driving, playing an instrument, playing sports, etc. And while it might make great sense to hire a company to, say, pour concrete for our driveways or rewire our homes, many of us can’t install a ceiling fan, outlet, toilet or faucet. Even the easiest of activities like painting a room are often outsourced.

And billions of people are now living in urban environments that bear no resemblance to the natural environments that our ancestors tended to. Is there something innate in humans, some connection with the Earth that’s been lost as a result?

I imagine there are loads of anthropological studies on this subject, but I’ll be damned if I know the correct key words to search for them. I couldn’t find anything relevant when I searched for articles that apply to this blog entry. But here’s my hunch:

I believe that man’s evolution away from physical engagement results in a disengagement from and a loss of empathy for our fellow human beings, the environment, and Earth itself. I think there’s some primal need we have to engage with the ground we walk upon, the air we breathe, and the waters we sail, and in foregoing engagement with our environment, we are likely denying ourselves our most meaningful existence.

I know, I sound like fricking Henry David Thoreau from Walden, a book I tried to read three times as a young adult and hated it, never getting past more than a few chapters. I wonder now if it might speak to me.

Nevertheless, those of us who can afford to write and read this blog entry have likely achieved the goal that mankind set out centuries ago: loads of free time so that we can achieve great ends. I’ve always claimed that creativity required two things: time and silence. Agatha Christie once said, "I don't think necessity is the mother of invention. Invention, in my opinion, arises directly from idleness, possibly also from laziness - to save oneself trouble.” After all, we probably don’t get Monet, Beethoven, Picasso, Frank Lloyd Wright, Hemingway, Martin Luther King, and The Beatles if they are busily tilling their farms for survival. 

On the other hand, long before Agatha Christie, the Bible’s book of Proverbs stated, “Idleness is the devil’s workshop,” and I think there’s something to this as well. Would an 18-year-old ever consider gunning down people in a Buffalo grocery store if he was tending to his crops?

Fortunately, most of us don’t go to such wicked lengths to fill our time. Instead, we play Wordl, watch gameshows and sports, read blogs, drink, snort and inject foreign substances, watch porn, get spoon-fed soundbites on social media, and happily believe whatever lies we’re told with nary a glimmer of critical thinking.

It just might be that using weed pullers to extract dandelions from your yard could be the cure that ails you.

Touring for Today's Musician

Last month I discussed the current state of new music (conclusion: it isn’t good, not because of the music, but because of nearly everything else), and I questioned how a smaller artist can financially justify touring. More specifically, I estimated how much the artist Sammy Rae and her amazing band might have earned at a show in Milwaukee that I attended last November. I concluded very little, if anything.

Right on cue, bassist and YouTuber Adam Neely posted a video this week on how his band, Sungazer, barely broke even on their recent tour of the West Coast. Neely is far more eloquent than I am, and I highly encourage anyone who wonders about how their favorite artists survive to check out this video. In it, Neely specifies the costs associated with his tour, some of which may surprise you. Neely discusses how important the size of the band is in determining the cost-effectiveness of touring. For Sungazer’s tour, they typically played with four musicians, and the fourth was sometimes a luxury they weren’t so sure they could afford. Compare that to Sammy Rae’s six-piece backing band; I have no idea how she was able to pull this off and whether any of her band made enough to justify being away from home and, presumably, away from their other gigging or teaching jobs that pay the bills.

A few years ago, touring was challenging enough for independent artists, but Neely highlights just how precarious such an endeavor is in the age of COVID, as his band had to postpone tour dates when two of its members contracted the virus. This took away from the bottom line, as it extended lodging requirements and added costs to its van rental and gas. There’s also the issue of insurance, and Neely points to a CBC article from last September that examines this issue.

What was most illuminating about the video for me were the negative comments Neely shared about people’s perceptions of how touring musicians “should” live: to-wit, destitute, sleeping in vans, unshowered, presumably living off of nothing but the thrill of playing music. Worse, many of these vitriolic viewpoints were from fellow musicians who, as Neely states, “had sacrificed personal comfort indignities to stretch thin budgets on the behalf of those who might exploit their labor” and were now eager to chastise those who have chosen to live the way most sane human beings live.

Neely concludes (I’ve edited his remarks for smoother reading): “Musicians are expected to struggle. It is part of the narrative. The idea of a bed to sleep in seem(s) especially controversial. But this DIY ethos metastasizes quickly into anti-labor rhetoric. and (in) relentlessly questioning the necessity of fair working conditions and compensation, the argument being made, effectively, is that living expenses are shameful and the idea of paying for labor is downright offensive.

“I would argue that live music has value. It is work. And those who do it deserves to do it with dignity, like anybody who works.”

Nicely said, Adam. Please consider subscribing to his channel.

Neely also refers to several other worthy reads, including the following:

• the band Pomplamoose’s balance sheet from its 2014 tour.

• Stereogum’s article, “Why Are Musicians Expected to be Miserable on Tour Just to Break Even?”

• If you have access, you can also check out Rolling Stone’s article that references some of the above, including the band Wednesday’s tweet about it’s appearance at South by Southwest Festival, which earned the band a net of $98.39.

I’ve been writing about music for the past couple of months. Next week I’m going to start addressing some other issues that have been on my mind, starting with the importance of physical labor for one’s well-being.

The Stupidity of the Recording Industry

Before I get started, allow me to note that the podcaster Brian J. Kramp who I discuss below is also the author of the upcoming book, This Band Has No Past: How Cheap Trick Became Cheap Trick, available on September 6, 2022 in paperback from bookstores everywhere, including Bookshop.org, Barnes and Noble, and other on-line bookstores. You can pre-order your copy now. I will be covering this book in more detail once it’s released.

Okay, let’s begin.

The Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) is a trade organization that represents the recording industry. It states on its website that it “advocates for recorded music and the people and companies that create it.” Allow me to put a spotlight on a situation where the RIAA practices something very different from its stated intent.

Enter Brian J. Kramp of Wisconsin, a self-described music obsessive who’s been hosting the terrific music blog Rock and/or Roll since 2015, with over 300 episodes. Brian is the kind of fan the record industry wants, or should want: someone who’s into music exponentially more that the average person. He buys tons of music, owns tons of albums, and he’s been spreading the message of music for years, covering metal, AOR, power pop, classic rock, alt country – you name it, this guy has it, often illuminating listeners about hidden gems by unknown bands whose music might be challenging to find. (Kramp’s recent podcast on AOR included bands like Under Fire, Razor Sharp, Fake ID and Babe Blu. All new to me!).

In short, Brian offers the record industry what it should be coveting: free advertising and unbridled enthusiasm for recorded music. Instead, in the summer of 2020, Brian received an email from Podbean that began:

"Dear Podcaster, we have been notified that your podcast content contains infringing content. Please check all your episodes and delete all copyrighted material. Please notice that repeat violation of copyrights will cause your account to be suspended. We've blocked your podcast site from public view. Please remove all infringing content and update us when this is done." 

Podbean was of course doing what they had to do. The real bully behind the letter was none other than the RIAA.

In August of 2020, Brian, obviously frustrated and bewildered and uncertain of what to do next, stated in his podcast: "What the RIAA is too dense to realize is that they're dealing with their best customers here. I have been buying music obsessively for more than 30 years. I have purchased exponentially more music than the average person, obviously, and the same goes for the kind of person who listens to these podcasts. So we are their best customers and they're treating us like the enemy.”

Brian then referenced a question that he had posted on his Facebook page: "Who's bought music because of the podcast?" After posting, it garnered a flood of positive responses, and Brian concluded that his podcast had exposed people to music that they “didn't even know about. Wouldn't that be exactly what the RIAA would want? It’s a free commercial for them.” Regarding his podcast, he added, “I’ve never made a penny off of it. The entire podcast is about loving music.”

So what’s behind all of this? Why does the industry actively inhibit this type of music endeavor when the result is music fans obsessing over music and seeking out music that they hadn’t heard before? If the RIAA’s objective is in fact to represent “people and companies” that create recorded music, aren’t they doing these people and companies a disservice?

If I were a recording artist who’s music was previously featured on “Rock and/or Roll,” I would welcome the advertising and I would wonder why the RIAA is making it harder for people to hear my music. But as I stated a few weeks ago in my last blog, the music industry isn’t necessarily in the business of promoting new music or lesser-known older music when it’s more lucrative to promote established catalogs of music at a fraction of the cost. After all, record companies have already spent hundreds of millions of dollars for these catalogs; now they need to recoup their investments.

Consider this: yesterday I saw a preview for the upcoming Disney/Pixar movie, Lightyear, and it featured the David Bowie song, “Starman.” It’s a fine tune, but whereas Pixar hired Randy Newman to compose new music for the original Toy Story back in 1995, spawning the gem, “You’ve Got a Friend In Me,” the new movie is promoting a 50-year old song, in this case “Starman,” owned by Warner Chappell Music, the publishing arm of Warner Music Group, which is owned by Access Industries.

Warner Music is one of the big three recording companies, along with Sony Music Entertainment and Universal Music Group. In short, these three music behemoth’s carry a lot of weight, and I suspect they’re willing to twist a few arms to get their high-priced music acquisitions featured on major motion pictures. I think the days of a modern songwriter being asked to compose three original tracks for a large, animated film are over. If there are exceptions – and I hope there are – I bet it’s for films with smaller budgets.

So where does that leave Brian Kramp and “Rock and/or Roll”?  Well, there is a happy ending to all of this, albeit one that grew out of frustration. As I already mentioned, Brian took the hiatus after 2020 to complete his book on Cheap Trick, a labor of love that he’d started in 2017. Also importantly, Brian began to post podcasts again two months ago after signing on with the Pantheon network and agreeing to “fade out” music per Pantheon’s policy. In the age of music streaming, why the hell it matters if a podcaster plays an entire song or fades it out is a question for the ages. Somehow the distinction is critical for the RIAA’s mission of “advocating” for recorded music. Go figure.

How else will Brian’s podcast change? It remains to be seen, but Brian wrote to me that he would likely avoid big-named artists and “stick to the original spirit of the podcast: rare and obscure music.” Brian is also reediting a number of his older podcasts and rereleasing them without complete songs.

In the meantime, new artist without large followings and more obscure older artists must face the facts: the RIAA doesn’t care about them or their music, and they care even less about their fans. What they do care about is placing songs of big-named artists with highly-priced catalogs in as many commercials, movies, TV shows and video games as possible.

Get used to it, folks. You’ll be hearing David Bowie ad nauseam for the next century.

The State of New Music

Lately, I’ve noticed a spurt of thought-provoking articles on the current state of music and its corporate-sponsored nemesis, nostalgia, and I’m trying to wrap my arms around this multifaceted topic. Before I get started, I encourage you to read the following three articles I’ll refer to in this essay. They are:

1)  Is Old Music Killing New Music? By Ted Gioia of The Atlantic

2) Spotify backlash offers rare insight into reeling music industry — and struggles of working musicians
 by Travis M. Andrews of The Washington Post" 

3) Hindsight is 2022: The Psychology Behind Our Cultural Nostalgia by Kyle Chayka of Town & Country. 

This is complex stuff, and I’m not an expert in the business of music, but I’ve got a couple of key takeaways from the articles I’ve been reading:

1) Nostalgia is BIG BUSINESS, and it’s only going to get bigger as corporations seek to recoup their recent investments in the back catalogs of Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Stevie Nicks, and the like. Expect more and more oldies gracing the airwaves, be it on radio, TV shows, film and commercials.  I imagine tribute bands will become an even bigger deal than they are currently, with exact recreations of specific tours from decades ago. According to The Atlantic essay referenced above, older songs now represent 70% of the U.S. market, and the market for new music is shrinking. This is a problem if you’re in the business of making music or are a lover of new music.

Nostalgia also comes in the form of books and documentaries about older artists. I should know, because I love this stuff! Books by Steven Hyden, David Hepworth and Rob Sheffield are among my favorites, and don’t get me started on movies like 20 Feet from Stardom, Summer of Soul, Searching for Sugar Man, etc. But where I differ from many of my peers is that I still seek out new music, which brings me to my next takeaway.

 2) The music market is fragmented like never before. I cry bullshit at the old geezers (or people my age who act like old geezers) who claim that there isn’t good music being produced today. I make the counter claim: there is as much good music out today than ever before, but it’s harder to FIND than ever before. Gone are the days when I could turn on the radio and hear a couple dozen new music selections of different genres that were making a significant cultural impact. Now I have to make an effort to find new music, and virtually none of it will have a significant following. Instead, it will have a small but dedicated group of fans that might be large enough to support a small tour in the country’s largest cities. If I live in a smaller city, I may never have an opportunity to see the band. It may also be true that the band I like can’t last beyond a couple of years due to the awful reality of today’s music industry, and the band I discover will likely be one that none of my friends are aware of, making the experience of listening to their music a very lonely endeavor. Sure, it’s cool that I found the artist Sammy Rae recently, but I can’t name any friends who have heard of her. I’m a fan on an island, at least in my demographic.

As Gioia states in The Atlantic article: “I know that plenty of exceptional young musicians are out there trying to make it. They exist. But the music industry has lost its ability to discover and nurture their talents.”

Instead, they devote resources to repackaging older music. And why shouldn’t they? They’re in the business of making money, and as long as we as consumers are willing to accept hearing “Piano Man” for the billionth time, these corporations will do more to sell old music and do less to sell new music. Until we as consumers demand better, we will get nothing better.

3) The ability for new artists to make money is largely limited to touring, and even this isn’t all that lucrative for most artists. Streaming services pay a pittance, and physical product sales – while climbing – are a shadow of what they were in the 90s. For bands to make money, they have to tour and sell merchandise, and it’s an awfully tough way to make a living. Studio bands like Steely Dan, The Alan Parsons Project or XTC would not be able to exist as new entities today – with no physical product to sell, the only way to survive would be to tour, and touring takes its toll, especially when you’re playing at small clubs that charge $30 for a ticket. 

I recently saw the aforementioned Sammy Rae in Milwaukee, and I tried to calculate how the heck she and her band were making a living. I concluded that they probably weren’t. Consider this:

The concert I saw was attended by about 200 people at around $35 a pop. That’s $7000. But the venue has to be paid, and Sammy had a four-piece band open for her, not to mention the 6-piece band supporting her, a roadie or two, plus a sound guy (maybe one person managed all of this?). Then there’s the van or bus to take them from show to show, food and gas, and I would hope an occasional stay at a hotel to freshen up. And I haven’t even mentioned the band manager, the promoter, the cost of making her recordings, the rehearsal space they probably had to pay for to get prepared for the tour, etc. I can guarantee you this: no one is getting rich off of this endeavor. So the question is, how long can Sammy Rae endure before
a) by some miracle she makes it big; or
b) she decides she actually wants to live comfortably and pursues a saner occupation?
I fear it will be the latter, and we as music lovers will be the worse for it.

4) Back to streaming services. According to the Washington Post article referenced above, for every dollar of revenue Spotify earns, a songwriter might earn as little as 12 cents of revenue (assuming there are no co-writers). “Not bad,” you might say, but it takes somewhere around 20,000 plays to generate a dollar, so if you’re lucky enough to be an artist who has a song that gets a million plays, congratulations, you may have earned approximately $6. I may have some of my math wrong here, but the truth holds: streaming isn’t really lucrative except for the upper echelon of artists. 

The Washington Post article states: “According to Spotify’s data, 13,400 artists generated more than $50,000 and 7,800 generated more than $100,000 in recording and publishing royalties in 2020. The musician would most likely receive a fraction of that amount.”

A fraction of $50K isn’t making a living. It’s barely surviving.

So where do we go from here? The pandemic made it all too clear just how important entertainment is. There are days when it’s the only thing taking me to the finish line. But aside from the biggest musical acts selling out shows at $150 a person, we don’t seem to put our money where our heart is. I used to spend all of my spare money on albums. Now I can pay $10 a month for immediate access to almost every song I’m inclined to hear. And when I see a new vinyl release for $30 I say to myself, “No thanks.” Never mind that when inflation is taken into account, this is actually cheaper than the $9 album I used to buy in the early 80s and that I have way more disposable income.

Bottom line: if you love an artist, buy their products. Buy a t-shirt, a CD, a record, and go and see them when they’re on tour, even if you have to stand among drunk 20-somethings in a crowded club. Better to spend $30 a piece on six new artists than $180 to see that aging rocker one more time at an arena show.

Be comfortable with urging streaming services to raise your fees for the purpose of paying artists better. I know that income levels vary, but for me personally, I would be happy to pay another $10 a month IF that money went to artists and not to the streaming service.

Seek out new music. Yes, nostalgia has its place, but as the Town & Country article suggests, it’s also keeping us from life-fulfilling experiences. And it’s making corporations rich instead of musicians.

I don’t know what else to say. But as Pete Townsend sang in 1978, “The music must change,” or maybe it should be rewritten as “The music business must change.” Either that, or we’ll all be singing the same damn songs for the rest of our lives. How many more times do you really need to hear “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover” or “Can’t Buy Me Love”? Isn’t there something more out there?

Twelve Albums from the 50s through the 80s

Last week I highlighted eleven albums from the past thirty years that have grabbed my attention as of late. Below I’ve listed an additional twelve albums in reverse chronological order from the 50s through the 80s that have inspired me recently. Next week I’ll discuss new musical artists and their struggle to find an audience. Stay tuned.

Dire Straits – Love Over Gold (1982).  Rewinding almost a decade from last week’s blog, this release was a regretful omission from my original list a few years ago. One of my all-time favorites. I’ll never forget camping up in Shawano, Wisconsin and awaking to the live version of “Telegraph Road” from the live Alchemy album (that is sadly unavailable on Spotify). It’s such a moody and moving piece, rivaled perhaps by the title track and “Private Investigations.” Wonderful.

Missing Persons – Spring Sessions M (1982).  Back when I was a snotty little teenager, I played in a band called The Grab, and we did the song “Walking in LA” by Missing Persons. Something prompted me to listen to the whole album a few years ago, and my, oh my, what a powerhouse of a record, led by the then-husband/wife duo of Dale and drummer extraordinaire Terry Bozzio. The album still sounds fresh and present, not of its time despite the synths. This might have something to the superb drums – the work of Terry on “U.S. Drag” is ridiculous.  In addition to “Walking in LA,” you probably know “Words,” “Windows,” and “Destination Unknown.” Once of those bands that never again reached the heights of their debut LP.

Donald Fagen – The Nightfly (1982).  Make it a trifecta from 1982!  Another album I overlooked in my top albums blogs, this is such a fun, positive and sophisticated album, in contrast to the ofttimes cynical Steely Dan. Not a bad cut on it. I love the comedic elements of the title track and the tight harmonies of “Walk Between Raindrops” and “Ruby.”

Jackson Browne – Hold Out (1980).  I’ve already listed Browne’s 2014 masterpiece Standing in the Breach as one of my favorite albums, but this release from when I was 12 years old put him on the map for me, and it hangs together oh so well, with a great combination of rockers along with some heart-felt numbers. Friends of mine who are a bit older prefer Jackson’s earlier records, but for me those releases have amazing songs along with some real clunkers. Hold Out holds up! If you want an example of horrific rock journalism, read the original Rolling Stone review of this release. It’s a mess.

Cheap Trick – Dream Police (1979).  Another one of those gems from the greatest year in music, I eliminated this from my original list of desert albums because of one song, “I Know What I Want,” but that was silly. The album is amazing! For me it’s one of the two best power-pop albums ever released, along with Off Broadway’s On.  I have some friends for whom “Gonna Raise Hell” doesn’t work, but I could probably put that song on repeat for several hours before pressing pause. Marvelous.

Gerry Rafferty – City to City (1978).  My son became familiar with “Baker Street” through a movie or game or something, and he would quiz me on the singer’s name, because, well, my mind is sometimes a jumbled mess of pop culture references and I can’t always keep things straight. But since then I dived into Rafferty’s City to City and I no longer have that problem. My favorite track – one that I have a faint recollection hearing in my childhood – is “Home and Dry,” without a doubt among my top 100 songs of all-time, but the whole album is strong. Rafferty has one of those voices that is instantly recognizable, but after a few follow-up albums, he disappeared from the charts.

Procol Harum – Grand Hotel (1973).  I was told that their 1969 release, Salty Dog, was the bee’s knees, but this one wins the prize for me. Full of bombast that might turn some people off, I love the complex chord changes and soaring melodies of the title track, “TV Caesar,” and “A Rum Tale,” a lover’s lament if ever there was one. And there’s some humor here too with “A Souvenir of London,” which was banned from the radio at the time!

Stevie Wonder – Innervisions (1973).  Another release from ’73 (a darn-good year for music – Quadrophenia, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Selling England by the Pound, Dark Side of the Moon, Houses of the Holy, Tales from Topographic Oceans, Band on the Run, etc.), I listened to this album in the car a few months ago, and damn, it’s nearly perfect, with Wonder doing the “wonderful” and handling virtually every instrument and vocal on the album. The funky tunes are balanced out nicely with the beautiful “All In Love Is Fair,” and “Visions,” a heartbreaking wish for a better world that seems especially current. The opening of “Living for the City” gives me chills. Perfect.

Rod Stewart – Every Picture Tells a Story (1971).  I originally went back and forth on this one, but there’s simply no denying that this is a stupendous effort from Stewart. The music is rough and raw and sloppy, the downbeats often played by three instruments at three different times, but damn, the energy the band (basically The Faces) exudes is infectious. One of those country-tinged efforts that I often eschew, but this one hits the mark for me, with wisely-chosen covers balancing out the marvelous “Mandolin Rain,” Maggie May,” and – among my favorites ever – the inimitable title track.

Emitt Rhodes – Emitt Rhodes (1970).  Chalk another one up for Spotify. While listening to Utopia’s self-titled 1982 release (which has already made by best-of list), the streaming service’s algorithm played the song “Somebody Made For Me” and my ears pricked up. Rhodes is another one of those artists like Nick Drake and Rodriquez who didn’t make the splash he deserved and got royally screwed by the record company. This is a power-pop masterpiece, with every instrument and vocal performed by the man himself. There’s a nice 2009 documentary about Rhodes called The One Man Beatles, and after a 43 year hiatus he managed to put out an album in 2016 before dying in 2020.  Here’s a nice summary of another record collector’s discovery of this fantastic musician. Isn’t it cool that my knowledge of Utopia led to Emitt Rhodes who then led to The Red Button (mentioned in last week’s blog). The musical rabbit holes you can go down are endless, especially since the advent of streaming services.

The Zombies – Odessey & Oracle (1968).  Yeah, I apparently was the only person on the planet who had never heard of this album despite it being listed as one of the best on most rock album retrospectives.  I came upon the 2008 40th anniversary live concert of this album on Spotify and actually like it better than the original release. The transition from “Brief Candles” to “Hung up on a Dream” makes to cry every time. I don’t know why, but the crowd reaction helps, and the chord progression of the latter tune is perfect, surprising the listener with the six-major chord after what starts as a very basic sequence. I’ve since discovered that my daughter sometimes plays “This Will Be Our Year” for her psych patients as a music therapist. Nice! Odessey & Oracle is the first new-pressing album I purchased since 1986! I’ve purchased quite a few more since then.  Once you break the seal, you’re in trouble.

Wild Bill Davison – Pretty Wild (1956).  This one is courtesy of my dad, who cleared out a bunch of his vinyl a half a decade ago or so, and I inherited a couple of dozen jazz records, some of which I’d neglected to listen to until recently. This recording is one of those lilting listens that calms my nagging nerves, neither calling too much attention to itself nor putting me to sleep. I don’t know if this is considered great jazz, but the combo of strings and Davison’s pure tone hits the spot.

So there you are! Twenty-three albums (between last week and this week) that have caught my attention over the past three years. Some of it old and familiar, much of it old and oddly unfamiliar to me, and a couple of newer releases.

There are some people who argue that there isn’t any good music today, to which I cry, bullshit. It’s harder to find good music on the radio than ever before, but there is so much good music coming out today it’s overwhelming. I’ll write about new music and how it’s harder and harder for today’s artists to find an audience in next week’s blog.