Best of 2001 Day 5: Tori Amos closes out her time with Atlantic by reinventing the music of men.
Good morning!
We’re in for a treat today, as Z-sides Music takes the wheel, and shares his take on Tori Amos’ Strange little Girls release.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
Today, Z-Sides Music stops by to share his take on Strange Little Girls. The words—and work— below the jump are all his, and I’m grateful he let me share this with everyone! I think you’ll dig it, too.
KA—
Tori is known for her prolific list of covers (“Smells Like Teen Spirit” anyone?) that she’s recorded in the studio and performed live. It was a matter of time before she used her skills for reinvention to make her own covers project.
What would it include? This go around, she gathered an eclectic group of songs, all written by men, to spin from a female perspective. This marks the last album on Atlantic Records before she signed with Epic. This is also a bit of a soft boundary between Amos’s more rugged words of the 90s and the softer sound she would adopt on later projects. Each song brings something different to the table. She’s traded out the Kurzweil for a Wurlitzer and Rhodes. We also trade out Steve Caton, Tori’s long-time guitarist, for Adrian Belew.
The richness of Tori’s heavily reverberated Wurlitzer adds a unique depth to this Velvet Underground cover of “New Age.” Her keys keep the dreamy psychedelic vibe of the 1969 original. Amos’s heavy vocals add the proper amount of sultriness to the sexuality that Lou Reed’s words provide. Adrian Belew’s guitar work beautifully matches the vibe Tori created.
A promotional image from the Strange Little Girls album shoot. (Photo from The Dent)
The most evocative song on the album is her take on Eminem’s “‘97 Bonnie and Clyde”. She places you in the woman’s point of view from the car’s trunk. She’s half alive and overhearing her husband relay, in a twisted paternal way, why her mother is soon to be dead. It’s chilling. Amos takes on this spoken, whispered tone throughout the song that sends shivers down your spine.
Compared to the demented sing-song-like rap verses Eminem brings at you, Tori’s breathy delivery drives the image of a half-dead woman hearing her husband’s psychotic reasonings to his daughter over the soon-to-be death of her mother. The loss of breathe at the end of the lines, “Here, you wanna help da-da tie a rope around this rock?/ We’ll tie it to her footsie then we’ll roll her off the dock/ Ready now, here we go, on the count of free../ One.. two.. free.. WHEEEEEE!”, really drive home the image of this woman’s last moments alive. It’s a powerful take on one of the more violent tracks in Eminem’s catalog.
The cover of the single “Strange Little Girl.” (Photo from Discogs)
The only single to be taken from the album is Tori’s version of The Stranglers’ “Strange Little Girl.” She gives the song a more 70s wash, opting for the Wurlitzer over the original synths and giving a rushing drum progression that quickly grabs you from the song’s beginning.
I really liked the take Amos has on the character when put into the progression of the album’s track list:
“This is the little girl whose father killed her mother in Eminem’s song, all grown up, having to deal with the fact that she was an accomplice to the murder. She’s a dichotomy of things because she’s divided — even when parents divorce, if they turn one child against one parent, you’re dividing that child at the core. It’s a manipulative thing to do.”
The words, “one day you see a strange little girl look at you/ one day you see a strange little girl feeling blue/ walking home in her wrapped up world/ she survived, but she’s feeling old/ cause she found all things cold,” give off such a broken vibe after reading that response. I thoroughly enjoy the fast-paced drum and guitar work that evokes the feeling of frantically outrunning your past, present, and future.
Tori takes a much more stark approach to Depeche Mode’s “Enjoy the Silence.” She strips away all of the electronics, leaving just her vocals, piano, and the most subtle synth and bass line to add some levity. It gives the words a much harsher tone. They are quite literally breaking the silence. The small change to the second verse’s lines, “Pleasures remain/ So does the pain/ Words are meaningless/ And unforgettable,” adds such a heavy gravity to the power of words and the scars they can leave behind.
Regarding transformations, Amos made an extremely emotionally impactful move to an alt/electronic classic. I quite enjoy Amos’s take on 10cc’s “I’m Not in Love.” The originally airy 70s song gets a much darker makeover. The 10cc original has a very flowery vibe, which gives the lyrics a more sarcastic, playful mood in response to the woman he is singing to. Amos gives the song a threatening coldness. This juxtaposition of sound makes the man’s lines emotionally abusive: “Said, I’d like to see you, but then again/ It doesn’t mean you mean that much to me/ So if I call you, don’t make a fuss/ Don’t tell your friends about the two of us.” Chamberlain’s empty percussion creates a beautifully dark, hollow mood.
Tori tones down the tempo just a hair on the Lloyd Cole track “Rattlesnakes.” Keeping the richness of the strings through the use of a slide guitar and a Rhodes piano. It gives the song a touch of Americana that I think works in its favor. Tori’s vocal delivery, I think, provides more depth to Jodie’s story, a troubled woman still haunted by the loss of her unborn child. I wish this had been another single off the project. It’s a nice bridge to what would come on Amos’s next project.
One of multiple album covers of Strange Little Girls. (Photo from Discogs)
One of the album’s most straightforward covers is the Tom Waits cover of “Time.” Trading Waits’ guitar for Amos’s piano keeps the same reverence as the original. One thing that makes this track stand out is its familiarity. It sounds so much like something Amos would pull out on stage solo for a special moment.
She had thought to put this on the organ but opted for the stripped-down take:
“I thought about taking this to the organ, but I stripped it back… It’s from the point of view of Death, so I felt like you need to feel like you are sitting on the piano stool. No masks, no effects, it’s right here, dry, with a little compression on vocals.”
It’s a very special moment on the album. Tori’s take on Neil Young’s “Heart of Gold” is one of the few that misses the mark for me. We trade out the folk styling of Neil’s original for a more ’70s-styled rock sound that layers Amos’s vocals over one another. It just feels a bit too chaotic and cluttered compared to the other reinventions she’s created on the album thus far.
Like her treatment of “Enjoy the Silence,” The Boomtown Rats’ “I Don’t Like Mondays” is a simple Rhodes-and-vocal track. The lush reverb on the Rhodes is a treat for the ears. Compared to the other tracks on the album, it feels just a bit flat. Seeing this a song about a woman shooting up an elementary school playground, the mellow mood of the song just doesn’t match the subject matter on the song well.
A promotional image from the Strange Little Girls photo shoot. (Photo from The Dent)
The longest song on the album is her spin on The Beatles’ “Happiness Is a Warm Gun.” Coming in at 9 minutes, it is interspersed with audio clips of George H.W. and George W. Bush, Daniel Bocking, and Tori’s own father, Dr. Edison Amos, discussing their thoughts on gun violence. It’s probably one of the most abstract takes on the entire album.
Giving this song a menagerie of political clips alongside Lennon and McCartney’s words makes for a unique stand for gun control, which has only become an even greater issue in recent years. I find Amos’s dual-wielding of the synth and piano to be outstanding and the spin on the track to be much more powerful now. I just wish it had a bit more form.
Another favorite of mine off the project is the unique spin on Slayer’s “Raining Blood.” She flips the speed metal track on its head, opting for a deep, crawling piano line, a growling bass line, and a vocal reverb that only highlights the song’s emptiness. It’s battered and seething compared to the original, tearing viciousness.
Of her take on the song, Tori told Oor:
“The text is really beautiful indeed, the words touched me deep. The ‘Raining Blood’ girl revealed herself to me from the moment that I heard the song. She said from the first line, ‘Come with me Tori, I’ll show you everything.’ She took me to a warfield, pure horror. Still I felt safe with her, because of her braveness. But not only the girl came to me. There was another image. Of a big, beautiful vagina in the air. From which blood is raining. It’s falling out of the air on certain countries which are so terribly violent against women. Like Afghanistan, where women can’t even go on the street without a man, are not allowed to study and often get raped. And these horrors can not be lead in any way to religion. It’s straight from the spirit of men”
This malice-fueled feminine point of view only promises retribution for the horrors the women have suffered: “The sky is turning red/ Return to power draws near/ Fall unto me, unto/ Fall unto me the sky’s crimson tears/ Abolish the rules/ Abolish the rules made of stone.” Though extremely colorful in Amos’s description above, the notion pours thickly over you as the track oozes.
We end off the project with another, more straightforward take on Joe Jackson’s “Real Men.” For an album that focused on reinventing songs from a male perspective, it is only fitting that she would cover one that calls out all kinds of masculinity. Her vocal hums in the song’s chorus are absolute ear candy. I’m glad she saved this one at the end of the album. It feels like the perfect closing chapter to Tori’s narrative.
Overall, I think most of the album shows Amos’s talent for covering a song and making it all her own. Some of the tracks, “‘97 Bonnie and Clyde”, “I’m Not in Love,” and “Raining Blood,” become something entirely their own through Tori’s interpretation.
That said, I think there are a few missteps on the album. “I Don’t Like Mondays” is too calm compared to its dark lyrics, and “Heart of Gold” feels overloaded. I wish her covers of David Bowie’s “After All” and Alice Cooper’s “Only Women Bleed” took the place of those two tracks instead of being B-sides.
As for the vote: Not all of these tracks landed with me. There are some discussions as to whether this was Amos trying something new, or simply mailing it in to meet the terms of her contract with Atlantic. I’m choosing to buy into the former, so she’s getting both my bracket pick and vote. And Aesop Rock? I like hip-hop, but nothing about this album stuck with me.
Slowcore legends Low take on post-hardcore band Thursday
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at Low’s Things We Lost in the Fire (#16) and Thursday’s “Full Collapse” (#113)
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challenge and noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Low- Things We Lost in the Fire
Duluth, Minnesota, is incredibly underrated. Yes, the winter weather is, um, “problematic,” but if you can tolerate a little meteorological volatility, it’s well worth your time.
Part of the appeal lies in its being right on Lake Superior. It’s a majestic, magical body of water that does well to remind one of their place in the universe. The city is also close to the Iron Range, where a lot of taconite pellets begin their journey to become products and infrastructure in our lives. They’re carried on freighters (”lakers”) that traverse the Great Lakes for most of the year, hauling all the underrated stuff we never notice until it’s not there. It’s what the Edmund Fitzgerald was carrying when the lake took her, spawning a song by Gordon Lightfoot and starting the tradition of that track appearing in every jukebox within 200 miles. It’s probably a licensing requirement. I dunno. Either way, the lake is now synonymous with the boat, and vice versa.
That’s a lot of words to say that Duluth is more important to people than they might realize. It’s also a great place to see a lot of ships coming and going.
When talking about transportation, I always have to remind myself that not everyone is as into it (or cares) like I do. I’m the kind of person who works with airplanes all day and then takes a vacation somewhere with front-row seats to shipping lanes. I like watching these leviathans come and go—from filling your entire field of vision to becoming a mirage on the horizon, then disappearing completely. They’re stately, steady, and a little anachronistic. Frankly, I’m often amazed at how much mileage (literally and figuratively) we’ve gotten out of this fleet of lakers, many of which were in service alongside the Edmund Fitzgerald, and have been going strong for over fifty years.
Duluth also gave us Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker, aka slowcore elder statesmen Low, and bear with me as I make one of the clunkiest analogies in the history of this newsletter. A lot of people don’t realize how important Low has been in their musical diet. If you like slowcore at all, Low’s probably a big reason for that. If you enjoy beautiful vocal pairings—well, I have some good news. If you like simple, stripped-down music with only rudimentary mechanics, you can find that at both the harbor and on records like Things We Lost in the Fire.
Like the lake following the seasons, across their career, Low’s sound has moved from icy to something warmer and open. Things We Lost in the Fire does a good job of capturing that shift. There’s a glow that feels (to my ear, anyway) like the light of morning. guitars hum and whir like the thrum of diesel engines, drums pulse at an unhurried pace, and the vocal harmonies fit nicely against the space around them, without ever threatening to take them over. Songs such as “Sunflower,” “Dinosaur Act,” and “July” feel more open(?) than songs from earlier records. Elsewhere, touches of strings and acoustic elements give the record a little movement without losing its placidity. Is placidity a word? It is now.
I should mention that this record sounds like most every other Low record, but what else was it going to sound like? Long winters can make people do strange things, but it’s not like they were going to spin off and do their version of Metal Machine Music. This, of course, is reductive and akin to saying every ship looks the same. Neither is true. There are variations here, and in a couple of spots, things plod along right on schedule until, as noted, there’s a burst of vocals, strings, or some other surprise element(s).
The knock on them is this consistency, this sameness, but like a boat still moving along after almost six decades, why would they have tried to fix what wasn’t broken?
Thursday- Full Collapse
Somewhere, there is someone who loves this record. Maybe they had a lot of angst in 2001, and this spoke to them. Maybe they just had a penchant for songs that burst into primal screaming right on cue. Someone loved this record enough to nominate it for this tournament. Enough someone’s liked it for it to make the cut. And it’s not even seeded last. That someone is not me. First track? Pretty rad! After that, the novelty wears off. Fast. Hard pass.
Bottom Line: Thanks for bearing with me as I compared a slowcore record to an upper midwest port city and a fleet of Lakers. That might’ve been was clunky, but my vote and bracket pick are as clear as day: Things We Lost in the Fire takes it without a second thought.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Mary J. Blige brings the family. Stars of the Lid bring the ambience.
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at Mary J. Blige’s No More Drama (#32) and Stars of the Lid’s The Tired Sounds of Stars of the Lid (#97).
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Stars of the Lid – The Tired Sounds of Stars of the Lid
Brian McBride and Adam Wiltzie didn’t really write songs so much as they built spaces. I don’t mean that in the clichéd way of “you have to listen to what’s happening between the notes,” but also? I kinda do. There are a bazillion people more qualified to assess and review an ambient record, but you’re here with me, a dopamine junkie with the attention span of a fruit fly, and you get to follow along in real time as I try to sit through the antidote of a life lived with 50 tabs open all day, every day.
The Tired Sounds of Stars of the Lid runs two hours long, across two discs, and—to state the obvious—is never in a rush. It just chugs along until everything else around you slows down to match it.
The opener, “Requiem for Dying Mothers,” sounds like an attempt at being cheeky at first, but isn’t. At one point, I caught myself thinking, “This is really nice, like something they’d play at a funeral service that makes everyone feel 1% better about it all.” The follow-up, “Austin Texas Mental Hospital” (these guys have incredible naming conventions), stretches for twenty minutes, and by the halfway point, I started to lose track. I like to scribble down some quick notes for each song as we go, but decided early that was an exercise in futility. Everything just melts together.
For the last competition, someone entered a Pauline Oliveros record, and I had a similar reaction. My internet-addled mind doesn’t know how to sit still, and I made the fatal error of trying to listen to it at work, where the whole point is to keep as many plates in the air as you can. This time, I settled for the much more meditative practice of folding laundry and emptying the dishwasher.
People love to say this stuff takes patience. I’d love to argue that, but in this day and age, it takes a lot to sit down and listen to a record like The Tired Sounds… not because it’s bad (it’s gorgeous), but because we’ve been conditioned to do the opposite. Whatever vertical video is, this is the opposite. It took a good chunk of the record to get there, but it finally got me to do what few records can: sit the F down, listen, and let my mind wander wherever it wanted to go (Oregon in this case, for those keeping score at home).
Mary J. Blige- No More Drama
Every so often, the piano riff from Mary J. Blige’s ‘92 banger, “Real Love,” pops into my head. It’s a nice flashback to when Blige came crashing in out of (seemingly) nowhere with her own take on New Jack Swing and soul, earning her the title Queen of Hip‑Hop Soul. Fast‑forward nine years and a few records, and she’s been through it. The crown’s still there, but No More Drama is her saying, “I’m done with all this hurt.” No More Drama is a record about being done with all the nonsense. Oh, you’re back on your bullshit? Not on Mary’s watch.
This record feels like a recap of her therapy sessions. You can hear the exhaustion, but you can feel something resembling relief, too. “Family Affair” is the obvious anchor — if you don’t think you’ve heard it, yes, you have. If you went to a basketball game anytime between 2001 and, say, 2010, there’s 110% chance it was played. It’s a banger too; It hit number one for a reason.
Across the record, Blige leaves heartbreak and angst in the rearview mirror and steers toward resolution. The title track samples “Nadia’s Theme” from The Young and the Restless and levels up the melodrama. Mary starts soft, then burns through the mix, turning years of frustration into something close to catharsis. “Dance for Me” samples The Police’s “The Bed’s Too Big Without You,” keeping that mix of past and present going, and was a nice surprise for me.
No More Drama marks the start of Blige’s second act, and was full of ‘em.
Bottom Line: This is a matchup between loud and quiet, or the space(s) in between and reclaiming one’s space. My love for mary J. Blige is real. My vote and my pick are going to No More Drama.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Today we’re taking a look at Poses by Rufus Wainwright (#64) and Kings of Convenience’s Quiet is the New Loud (#65).
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challenge and noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Rufus Wainwright’s Poses is baroque pop personified. Strings and piano carry most of the weight here, wrapping even the plainest melodies in old-world finery. It followed his 1998 debut, the one that caught Rolling Stone’s attention and had Elton John calling him “timeless.” By the time Poses arrived, Wainwright was living at the Chelsea Hotel, brushing up against fame, trouble, and everything in between. Poses feels like a record made by someone living in an upscale hotel; the atmosphere feels like it’s surrounded in mahogany and tall-backed chairs…and I really hope that makes as much sense on your screen as it did in my head.
This isn’t a bad record. The production gleams, Wainwright’s voice comes across as a man out of time, and the arrangements feel expensive in the best way. The problem is me. Chamber pop doesn’t do it for me in 2026–and it definitely wouldn’t have been something I was into in 2001. Beyond “California,” most of these songs pass through like a conversation with someone I’ll never see again… in a place like a hotel lobby. Nice enough in the moment, nothing sticky (again, carving out an exception for “California” here.).
Wainwright’s voice reminds me a bit of what Cameron Winter from Geese does—except where Geese lean into the ramshackle, Wainwright pushes the emotion until it circles back around and starts to flatten. Maybe that’s the design? Maybe he’s chasing sincerity so hard it becomes too clever by half? Maybe I missed the point entirely. Either way, I find myself admiring the effort put into it more than I enjoy the ride.
Hooboy, I hope you don’t get tired of hearing me say, “This is a new one for me,” because it’s going to happen a lot over the next few weeks. I’d never even heard of Kings of Convenience before the submission window for this challenge opened. My surface-level take? They’re basically the Norwegian version of The Shins—part of that same narrow vein of quiet, introspective indie folk.
I had heard of The Shins, of course—mostly because everyone alive owned that Garden State soundtrack at some point. Like Wainwright above, I’ve never had much taste for this brand of muted, rainy‑day music. There’s a softness to it I’ve just never connected with. When I was younger, I wanted sharper sounds hitting my ears—you’d think that would mellow with age, but even now I still crave something with an edge.
Look, I get why people dig it (clearly, it made the cut over a few far more deserving records, IMO). But still…this is in that liminal space between “too slow for the Hyatt lobby” and “not new age‑y enough for the spa.”
Bottom Line: This is a matchup between #64 and #65. In other words, the two records are right in the middle of the bracket. Some would say that’s indicative of a (relatively) broad appeal. Others would say it speaks of middling and ambivalence. Guess which camp I’m in? Matches like this are tough- you want to be objective, but when every fiber of your being is screaming “go listen to something faster!” it’s tough. In baseball, the tie goes to the runner. In today’s matchup, the tie goes to name recognition. Wainwright it is.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Here we go! It’s a battle for the Midwest as Wilco takes on Slipknot.
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (#1) and Slipknot’s Iowa (#128)
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.
Each day, I’ll do some quick hits of each first-round match-up and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably definitely be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is one of those records that is usually described in hushed tones and with reverence. For a certain demographic (i.e., suburban dads), it’s canon. It’s given as a meaningful gift and passed down from dad to son. It gets boxed up for anniversaries and treated as the moment Wilco turned from alt‑country to something in the pantheon of dad rock. For many listeners, it’s a landmark and must-have.
For me, it’s never landed.
On paper, I should be all over this. I like the genre. I’m a fan of good writing and stories that aren’t quite in focus. I wear cargo shorts and Sambas. I prefer Microbrews over Miller. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot checks those boxes…and yet…
The opener, “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart,” is a declarative statement, despite a wonky groove, and vocals that range between weary and half‑asleep, which frankly is how it leaves me feeling. I can admire how the whole thing is put together. That doesn’t change the fact that my favorite part of the whole deal is the cover art.
I want to like this record, I really do. I’m supposed to, right?! Lord knows I’ve tried. “Kamera?” Check. “I’m the Man Who Loves You?” check. Absolute apathy towards the sound? Check.
Maybe it all feels undercooked? I know that was a choice, and there are a lot of records that aim for intentionally good, not great, as an aesthetic. Maybe the hype surrounding it has led to horribly mismatched expectations. I dunno. All I can tell you is that I walk away from the sound machine feeling underwhelmed. This is a record that should be a gut punch.
None of this makes Yankee Hotel Foxtrot a failure, of course. It’s thoughtful, was clearly labored over, and clearly means a lot to a lot of people. I’m just not one of them. This is the #1 seed in the bracket and will likely make a deep run in the tourney. Heck, even I’ve pipped it to take it all (I’m pragmatic if nothing else). My bigger concern is that it’s gonna hoover up a ton of discourse oxygen. Hopefully, I’m wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Slipknow’s Iowa, meanwhile, felt like everything YHF wasn’t; it was loud, dangerous, and maybe most importantly unique. The production here is a choice as well, and that choice is “don’t sand the edges off.”
The masks, jumpsuits, and numbers for names read as a gimmick (and still do, tbh), but the band said they wanted people to focus on the music, and I get it.
Tracks like “People = Shit,” “Disasterpiece,” and “The Heretic Anthem” aren’t trying to steal your heart so much as rip it out of your chest and show it to you. Joey Jordinson’s drums sound fully formed, for lack of a better term. Corey Taylor sounds like a man possessed. It’s uncomfortable. It’s glorious.
I also think that part of the appeal is where the band came from. And I mean that literally. As in the flyer states. Specifically, well, Iowa. Pop culture and tastemakers love to ignore the Central time zone, and when you put out a record that sounds like a blast furnace, that’s hard to do.
Bottom Line: Somewhere there’s a universe where Iowa is on the right side of a #1 vs #128 match-up. Unfortunately, we don’t live there. I love rooting for the underdog, and will vote for Iowa out of spite, if nothing else. But I can’t see a way out for Clown & Co. My bracket pick begrudgingly goes to YHF.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Good morning! Need an antidote for the algorithms? Looking for a place to share the music you love with like-minded people? You’re in the right spot.
For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing, and the playlist below is some of what’s been in heavy rotation for me.
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For avgeeks, it’s hard to beat last week’s date run. March 19, 20th, and 21st don’t mean much to most people, but those also happen to be – at least in the US, anyway – written as 3/19, 3/20, and 3/21. And what better excuse to celebrate the Airbus family of narrowbody aircraft (i.e., the A319, A320, A321)? We’re incredibly fun at parties!
At any rate, that got me thinking a bit about the numbers for Playlist 341. I’ve never been a fan of math- I was that stereotypical kid who wailed about taking algebra. Why should I take the time to learn something I’ll never use?! Joke’s on me; I use it almost every day; sometimes I even use it while working weight and balance on flights flown by…A320s. Go figure.
I’d covered Roxy Music’s “Virginia Plain” a little over three years ago. It popped back into my head after watching an episode of Barry that everyone else watched in 2019. Late to the party again. The interwebs tells me the band’s “For Your Pleasure” LP turns 53 today. “Virginia Plain” and “Street Life” are on the records on either side of it.
It’ll be 36 years ago this summer that I first saw Sonic Youth. Two of the band members have newsletters right here on this very platform. A 3rd is in a band that made one of the best records of 2026 (so far). We’ve got 9 months to go, but I’m guessing it’ll make a deep run on my AOTY list. The 4th, Kim Gordon is here with my #1 favorite song off her 3rd album.
It feels like I’ve been listening to Wire for a million years (not true), and they’re back with “23 years too late” for the 19th Record Store Day on 4/18 (very true).
There’s also plenty of brand new 2026 stuff here, including fresh racks from Lawn, Genre is Death, and Weird Nightmare. We close things out with a great new track from our friend Binnie Klein.
There’s more tracks than usual this week (12, actually). Hopefully you find a new favorite or 2 over the next seven days!
This week, Side A is tracks 1–15 (ending with “Mantis”), with Side B being 16–39. Yes, it’s lopsided; sometimes, that’s just how it goes.
Some thoughts on shared experience, The Big Dance, and degenerate gambling as a family activity.
Note: March Madness has again kicked off, and I wanted to reshare this previously paywalled piece from last year. It’s only been lightly updated- my feelings haven’t changed. My beloved Ducks weren’t invited to the big dance, so any references to them below should be seen as “manifesting” for 2027.
I’ve been known to search the house for my glasses only to realize I’m wearing them. I couldn’t tell you what I had for lunch yesterday. But I remember exactly where I was standing in 1985 when I learned that Villanova upset Georgetown to take the NCAA men’s basketball title.
I was at Civic Stadium for a Portland Breakers game. Turns out we got our ass handed to us by a San Antonio Gunslingers team whose wheels were coming off. I had to look that up.
Know what I’ll never forget? The deafening roar of the crowd as it was announced.
As I type this, We are in the throes of March Madness. Not “mad king” shit, but the good kind- the NCAA basketball tournament kind.
Many of us fill out brackets even in a small workplace like mine. There is a lot of interest and big talk. Our Manager even does one (allegedly, of course). Similar scenarios play out nationwide. Maybe a few of you are in pools, too?
Heck, we even had a president who used to fill one out and got tan suit levels of outrage in return…but it also showed he was, well, normal (Presidents! They’re just like us!). Does Obama still do these?
Does anyone in the current administration? I doubt it; most seem to have an allergic reaction to fun. It’s also hard to be a grievance merchant when you’re cheering from the stands. Whatever.
We love the bracket. The heroes. The villains. The Cinderellas. The quirky human interest stories (take a bow, Sister Jean!). We cringe in unison at injuries. Speaking of which, has anyone checked on Kevin Ware lately?
Who will be this year’s Cinderella? Beats me, but I hope I have ‘em making a deep run. It’s all tradition. It’s appointment viewing. The March Madness roller coaster is one we all ride on.
Speaking of ‘Nova, Rollie Massimino was a perfect name for a coach. Of course, he took them to the promised land! How could he not have?! It’s colorful characters. Colloquialisms. It’s a collective experience.
It’s also among the last bastions of “good” tribal identity. Walk into the party and announce some outré political belief. See where that gets you. Walk into the office wearing the jersey of your school or hometown? Totally copacetic. Heck, you might even get away with wearing an Oregon State shirt. I’m probably legally required to advise you to check with HR first on that last one, but still…
If all this sounds romantic — that’s because it is, and unapologetically so
I always do a couple of brackets. One is purely vibes-based. In this scenario, the Ducks always win. You gotta root for your people, right? The other is usually more measured, and I take some time to do more thorough research (translation: check with my kids). Two of my superpowers are pretzel logic and rationalization, so the Ducks often take it all in these simulations, too.
If you are a Houston fan, I will (quietly) cheer with you solely because it’s the alma mater of the greatest player of all time. None of this has to make sense, and it’s more fun when it doesn’t. March Madness is no place for logic, common sense, or stats.
Speaking of my kids, they play too; the family that gambles together stays together.
My point here is that millions of us participate in this. It’s one of the last-standing examples of shared experience. We don’t do that a lot in 2025 2026. We spent so long trusting people who told us that removing friction was a good thing that we developed an allergic reaction to it. All that got us was atomized content diets, sore thumbs from scrolling, and out-of-whack expectations.
Why is this page taking longer than two seconds to load?
Whaddya mean I have to wait a full week for the next White Lotus Episode?
(Sidebar: As this is still ostensibly a music newsletter, how come no one told me Mook was played by Lisa from Blackpink?)
I guess that’s what I get for trying to be less terminally online. It was bad enough when there were only 57 channels that had nothing on. Now there’s 500+, and worse… except in March when EJ in Atlanta, Charles Barkley, and the rest of the crew roll the party straight to your TV set.
You want me to fill out a piece of paper? Like with a pen/pencil?!
Yes, yes I do. The friction’s half the fun. There’s no buttons, no GUI, just graphite—bonus point for doing it ink in one run. Sure, you can fill one out online, and if you really want, you can even outsource the work to AI. You can enter huge pools with a bunch of strangers and win huge prizes (we love us some cash). But there’s something much more rewarding about filling it out at the breakroom table and being able to good-naturedly rib Jan from Accounting when your team beats hers at the buzzer.
Turning your back on social media, returning to Web 1.0, filling out brackets, filling the stands—this is half the fun. This is the way.
Good morning! Need an antidote for the algorithms? Looking for a place to share the music you love with like-minded people? You’re in the right spot.
For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing, and the playlist below is some of what’s been in heavy rotation for me.
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One of the biggest pulls of any given song or record is where you were in life when you first heard it. The older I get, the more universal that truth seems. Sometimes that “where” is literal. Ask me what I had for lunch yesterday, and I’d probably struggle to remember. Ask me about the first time I heard The Jesus and Mary Chain, though, and I can take you right back to the exact place (A-hall at my junior high). Last week, R.E.M.’s Out of Time was in the spotlight, but I first heard Green in that same spot. Both bands made it onto the “seen them live” list not long after, and I feel lucky to say “I was there.” I’d like to add Phoenix to that list before it’s too late, too.
Those memories don’t always involve discovery, either. Sometimes they’re about the circumstances you somehow stumbled into. I once drove from Portland to Los Angeles, and as we were backing out of the driveway, my partner in crime announced that we were going to listen to They Might Be Giants the entire way. I assumed it was hyperbole (It wasn’t). It could have been worse! If nothing else, it makes for a fun story.
Those moments don’t stop happening just because you’re no longer a teenager. Courtney Barnett is a perfect example. She’s got a record coming at the end of the month, and if Mantis is any indication, it’s going to make a deep run on the usual year-end lists. My onramp came on the way to work one morning, listening to Hrishikesh Hirway’s Song Exploder, where she deconstructed Depreston. That one held the favorite slot for a long time… until “Mantis” showed up a few days ago. Hirway, for his part, has a new single of his own out as well, which somehow brings everything around full circle.
Romeo Void first landed on many of our radars thanks to MTV. I was too young to make it to one of their shows back in the day, but by most accounts, they were events not to be missed. There’s a bit of secondhand redemption coming via a live album on Record Store Day. No spoilers, but I got to hear an advance copy, and it’s killer. I feel lucky to be able to say that, too.
That’s the thing about songs. They’re rarely ”just” songs/albums/shows. They’re markers along the way: a hallway in junior high, a car heading out on the highway, a podcast episode on another forgettable pre-dawn commute, music video decades ago. Getting older sucks, but the upside is that list of moments keeps growing. And if you’re lucky, every once in a while, you get to say: I remember when…
This week, Side A is tracks 1–15 (ending with “Mantis”), with Side B being 16–27.
Kevin Sent 
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