What’re You Listening To?

It seems like I’ve been here before

Note: This first ran on this day in 2024. It was well received, but let’s be real; I’ll take any excuse I can get to yap about New Order.

If you’re looking for this week’s playlists, fear not! They’re at the bottom of the page. There’s even a New Order track on there.

P.S. My coworkers had an awesome trip.


The well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions edition.

Earlier this week, Noah Kalina asked the following:

How many years do you need to live somewhere before you are considered a local?

It’s an interesting thought exercise: if you ask 10 people, you‘re likely to get 11 answers. In fact, that’s exactly what happened, with people responding with things like:

  • In New England, the rule is simple. You are considered a local as soon as you have three grandparents who were born in the town where you live.
  • You have to be born there. That’s the rules.

and

  • If you’ve integrated into a place, accepted it, love it and committed to it in any way, you’re a local.

It is a nuanced subject indeed. I was born and raised in Portland, but I have now lived in Wisconsin almost as long as I did in Oregon (with Washington and Tennessee rounding out the numbers). The last time I had a 503 area code, George W. Bush was president. So why does it still feel like home?

I love Wisconsin and have lived here since… GW Bush was president. I also talk about home as more of a state of mind than anything. I have raised a family here, yet I still feel like an expat.

What gives?

I’ve made this joke before, but how can you tell if someone is from Oregon? The answer, of course, is to wait 5 seconds, and they’ll tell you. I’m no exception. What can I say? I love my home state. I still talk about PDX as if I live there. It’s only a little hyperbolic when I say it’s the city that raised me.

A lot can change quickly in a place like Rose City. The clock never stops, and neither does urban renewal/development. I can still tell you how to get just about anywhere in the metro area, even if I don’t recognize a single thing along the way. But two of my coworkers are visiting tomorrow, and it didn’t stop them from asking where I thought they should go. How do you handle a question like that? Do you give them a list of must-hit places? An “insider” tour?

How do you ensure it isn’t just a punch list of places you wish you could still hit?

Do they want to see the places I used to hang out? The bars I misspent my youth in? The record stores I more or less lived in? Really, I coulda had my mail delivered to a couple of them.

The bars I hung out in have either been bulldozed or have been converted sanitized into “sports pubs.” My favorite used to have Off-track betting in the basement, and a group of surly dudes straight out of Central Casting would come/go with regularity. Now it’s all shiplap, vinyl flooring, and big screens. Hard pass.

Back when it was still known as “Northwest Portland,” the Pearl District was just sketchy enough to be interesting, filled with a lovable cast of characters who gave Portland a flavor all its own. It was long on personality but short on cachet. Many of them are long gone, too, either because of time—everyone ages out eventually—or because of gentrification.

Most of the stores and restaurants met the same fate. The Greek deli with brothers who would yell at you for reading magazines while making you the best sandwich you ever had. Nights out that ended at Quality Pie as the sun came up (IYKYK). And a few record places where I bought some of my first CDs, including New Order’s Substance, which just happens to be turning 37 39 today1.

How do you know Kevin likes New Order? Give it 5 minutes, and he’ll tell you.


By 1987, New Order had fully risen from the ashes of Joy Division. Along the way, they’d shed the post-punk sound and become arguably the leading synth-pop band in the world.

They’d already released four studio albums, but their fascination with disco & (then) new technology had left them with a habit of reworking and remixing album tracks into 12” singles.

It was time to put together Substance, a collection optimized for filling the dancefloor (the CD release has a second disc of B-sides and extended instrumental remixes). Serving almost as a de facto greatest hits record (future hit “True Faith” debuted here), each of the 12 tracks showcases the band’s masterful ability to marry gorgeous pop melodies, frontman Bernard Sumner’s endearing vocals, and thunderous beats.

There can be a fine line between an insider’s tour and a list from TripAdvisor. The same goes for greatest hits and compilation albums. The former can be a lazy way for a band to make some easy money. The latter can be a tidy place to house B-sides, remixes, etc. Both can be gateways to a band—an on-ramp for new fans, as it was for me.

It’s not hyperbolic to say this is a record that changed everything for me.

Released on vinyl, Double CD (which I initially had), and double cassette, the first “side” had A-side singles, while the second had their respective B-sides. This is not a hard and fast rule, as there are a few exceptions. There are also a few other variants depending on your listening format and edition. Ask me how I know this.

The result was a sound that sounded as good coming out of a car coming down the block as it did in the club. Though very much a product of its time, the music is timeless and is a testament to the band’s outsized influence on the rave & house music world.

It is an excellent two-and-a-half-hour ride. And there probably isn’t an inch of real estate in that town that didn’t see me playing it at least once, whether on my Walkman, in my car, through an iPod, or on my phone.

I listened to it when walking by PGE Park. It’s Providence Park now, but it was Civic Stadium before that, and even now, sometimes I catch myself thinking about it. Old habits die hard.

I listened to it on the way to Powell’s to buy books about the band in the Orange Room. Later, I would hit the Rose Room for airplane books. You can see how that ended up.

I’d listen to it while waiting for a sub at the Greek deli, but just quietly enough so that I could hear one of the old men announce that my food was ready. Maybe I didn’t need to worry because they usually just yelled.

Quality Pie had its own soundtrack. No New Order required.

I’d listen on the way to Dudley’s—another record store lost to time and high rent—where I’d buy even more New Order records and merch.

Sometimes, I’d sit in the park blocks on the Portland State campus and people-watch, daydreaming about someday joining them. Which I eventually did… for, like, three weeks.

Voodoo Donuts didn’t exist yet, but the X-Ray Cafe around the corner did. I didn’t listen to it on the way to our show there. Or maybe I did; I was in too much of a state to remember.


New Order—or rather their graphic designer Peter Saville—also habitually released records with beautiful covers. Every release was a marriage of sight and sound. Saville wasn’t picky, either; he was at home tapping into Bauhaus or Constructivist influences as much as he was classic art.

This time, though, he opted for a simple white cover with black type, not unlike a generic label.

There’s not much substance to it (sorrynotsorry) there, but in this case, there needn’t be; the music was the message.

Today, the record has sold well over a million copies and remains one of the band’s most popular and critically acclaimed releases.

Even the usually churlish Robert Christgau was effusive (by his standards, anyway), saying

…Pure rhythm machine with an ironically mysterious overlay of schlocky melody to help it go down, this album is a case study in sensationalist art, and I say the world is better for it,” and issuing the record a rare “A.”

He’s right; the world is better for it.

As for my friends, I think I’ve given them an outline that shows both the bright & shiny side of PDX and the must-see parts Yelp doesn’t cover. I even included a couple of record stores. Whatever they wind up doing (or playing), I hope they have as much as I always did.

KA—

The Playlist:

Other sources: | Apple | Qobuz | YouTube Music| Tidal (NEW) |

I’m trying Tidal out after getting a couple of requests for it. We’ll see how it goes! Mostly, I’d like to slowly move away from Spotify and make sure we’ve got as many bases covered as possible.

Extra: Here’s a playlist of New Order’s closing tracks I did as part of a guest series at The Runout Grooves.

Now it’s your turn.

What’s been exciting you lately? Any shows you’re looking forward to? Maybe one with an early start? Whatcha got? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Discussion: What’re You Listening To?

Good morning!

Hello from Lake Michigan.

I’m writing this from somewhere called South Beach (no, not that one): a dispatch from nowhere that somehow feels like everything. One of the best things about Portland was its proximity to the coast. In the span of ~75 miles (and 60-ish minutes, if you timed it right and kept a sharp eye out for cops), you could go from strip-mall Babylon to the state line along the shore of the Pacific. You could foolishly attempt that same pace on a run to Mt. Hood, but the police in Sandy are undefeated. We can make the same run to the Midwestern equivalent of a coast run. It’s not the same, but it sure feels like it sometimes.

Looming over this beach is a massive power plant. Its presence surely makes sense, but it honestly reminds me of something out of The Simpsons. Or something you might see if you took the longer route to the coast via Highway 30, where the now-gone Trojan nuclear plant loomed, dominating the skyline and seeming very much both in and out of place.

WTF does any of this have to do with music, you may be asking? My point is that I always find it fascinating how one thing reminds you of another, and how transportive those flashes can be.

An offhand conversation about the band ALL this week led to mentioning a shared love of Big Drill Car, which led to me dusting off CD Type Thing and landing right back in the early ’90s. Which led to some Bettie Serveert and Happy Mondays. A short YouTube documentary on Sugar reminded me of being at Tower to grab one of their midnight releases. And why can I remember exactly what the terrazzo floors looked like but need help remembering what I had for lunch yesterday?

We lost John Douglas of Trashcan Sinatras this week, and it felt mandatory to include a couple of their better-known tracks. I’d also highly encourage new listeners to burrow into their deep cuts. It’s well worth the trip.

And that power plant I’m sitting in the shadow of? Well, it reminds me of Pink Floyd and the picture of Battersea Power Station on Animals. The only things flying between the stacks here are frisbees, but still…

KA—


On to the music:

Besides the tracks noted above, we’ve got some killer sounds from Cola, Bad Bad Hats, and Boscomoestas, Jason Singer (Michigander), The Veldt, and close things out with something from our pal Matty C’s Harborcoat.

Side A is tracks 1-13. Side B is tracks 14-27.

The Playlist:

Other sources: | Apple | Qobuz | YouTube Music| Tidal (NEW) |

Note: Trying Tidal out after getting a couple of requests for it. We’ll see how it goes! Mostly, I’d like to slowly move away from Spotify, and want to make sure we’ve got as many bases covered as possible.

Now it’s your turn.

What’s been exciting you lately? Any shows you’re looking forward to? Maybe one with an early start? Whatcha got? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Discussion: What’re You Listening To?

Good morning!

This week I spent a good deal of time listening to the earlier part of Heart’s catalog. As I noted last week, my better half came home from a garage sale with quite a haul, and, well, those records weren’t going to play themselves, you know? No one needs to know my take on Bebe Le Strange (“Even It Up” is a top-five track from them), Private Audition (you can probably skip this one), or the deep cuts on Dog & Butterfly and Dreamboat Annie. I’ll just say I’m always surprised at how well these hold up. Even the glossy-era stuff has its high marks. I’m never mad about hearing “Never” in the store. I’m slow to praise anything from Seattle, but credit where credit’s due.

At any rate, this week I’ve been feeding my ears with quite a bit of stuff that’s held up. The Veldt are a band I found in high school, and if Instagram is anything to go by, people are still finding them. The kids are alright! We’ve got two of them here. A few years ago, our pal Keith R. Higgons did a great interview with the band’s Daniel Chavis that’s also well worth checking out.

Similarly, Watershed is an Ohio band that had a brief moment in the ’90s, then faded from the spotlight, but, lucky for us, never really stopped making records. Their new one’s on here, and they’re doing a short regional tour. If you’re in the upper Midwest, you’re in luck. Also, shoutout for most of these shows starting early. Related: I’m old. They’re also playing with Madison’s Shazy Hade.

There’s some Yo La Tengo, because of course there is, and a couple from the Stones, Pink Floyd, and Eddie Vedder (see above: never beating the old-guy allegations).

Going the other way, we’ve also got brand-new killer sounds from Joel Cusumano , Philly-based Mesh—who sound old in all the best ways—and Young Friend.

Also a new one from THAO that’ll likely still be stuck in your head midweek (sorry!), a double dose of new music from Outer World, and a banger from Swedish House Mafia ft. Lykke Li.

In other words, something for everyone. This is an all ages show. Get in!

KA—


Side A is tracks 1-13. Side B is tracks 14-27.

The Playlist:

Discussion: What’re You Listening To?

Good morning!

Late last week, I was in a meeting when my wife walked in and quietly set a stack of (new to us) records down. That by itself was cool. What made it eve better was the how excited she was that she’d found them. She’d been at a garage sale, and they had brought them out while she was there. Right place, right time and all that.

I’ve mentioned it before, but garage sales up here usually follow a specific template:

In Wisconsin specifically, you’re bound to find cross-country skis and…a lot of beer steins (seriously, why do people buy these?!). There’s also a 110% chance that there will be at least one giveaway shirt from a Bucks game. At this point, I am convinced that Gruber Law is single-handedly keeping several T-shirt companies afloat. IYKYK.

Records are a rarer commodity, though judging by the sales I hit, it’s clear that owning at least two Ray Conniff records was a state law at one point. Maybe they came with the beer steins…I dunno. When you find them, they’re not always in the best shape and look/smell exactly how you’d expect them to after spending the last twenty years in a Midwest basement next to a pair of cross-country skis.

No one will consider the records she grabbed for us holy grails. That doesn’t make ‘em any less cool, or dampen the excitement. We’ve been playing ‘em all weekend.

It’s easy for “music people” like all of us here to get lost in things like the Geese discourse, whether or not Madonna’s new record is up to par (it is), and the ongoing saga of curation vs. critique. And who gets to make those calls? Ask 10 people, and you’ll get 11 opinions.

In the end, no matter one’s taste, we’re all chasing that same north star- the electricity you feel when a record finds you at just the right time- even if it happens to be a release from Ray Conniff.

KA—


On to the music…

On to the music. No Madge this week, but her debut record turns 43 today. Oof. I’d put it up there in her top 3. Maybe you have some thoughts? In the what’s old is new crate, we’ve got a track from the latest Rolling Stones record, Teenage Fanclub, The Strokes, and Pete Yorn. There’s also some deep cuts from Heart, and Jet Stream Heart from Temples. Also one from Sioux Falls SD-based Off Contact, and another from Liz Hogg. There’s also some Yo La tengo because, of course, there is (and stay tuned for more on them later this week).

Best of all, we’ve got a brand new one from our pal Brian K. Pagels with Lilly Hiatt (Lilly Hiatt!). If that’s not exciting, I don’t know what it is.

Side A is tracks 1-12. Side B is tracks 13-27.

Other sources: | Apple | Qobuz | YouTube Music |

Now it’s your turn.

What’s been exciting you lately? Any new releases or shows you’re looking forward to? Whatcha got? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Discussion: What’re You Listening To?

Good morning!

This past Friday I went to a political rally lightly disguised as a stop on a book tour. It was a Q&A with Ben Wikler and Pete Buttigieg, and a couple of other local/state politicians and activists. I was really there to see “Mayor Pete” (I’m an unrepentant infrastructure geek), but if I’m honest, it was far more engaging and entertaining than I thought it might’ve been.

I’m terminally online and far too plugged into the WI political landscape for my own good. It’s easy to get jaded and check out, but this was a great antidote; a bulwark against the tsunami of political ads that are about to swamp every channel.

One of the points made was a quote: Hope is not the cause of action. Hope is the consequence of action.

I admit it’s a touch pithy—something very much at home on a Successories poster—but I also couldn’t help but frame it in terms of records, writing, and any creative pursuit. People take their time, treasure, and talent and put something out in the world. They hope people like it, of course, but that’s an aftereffect.

The TL;DR of the evening was that success comes when we (collectively) decide to tear down existing models and speak truth to power. Those walls come down slowly at first and then all at once. It starts with a conversation, or making a single phone call. Or making a small ask of someone (in my organizing days we would call these pressure tests, and the equivalent might be asking them to sign an A-card). You do this over and over—you put in these reps—and eventually something new and better emerges.

On the way there, we drove by what was once Smart Studios, and as each person spoke, I couldn’t help but map their points to the past and current music landscape.

Writing about the building a few years ago, I noted:

Today, Smart Studios stands stoically on the corner as the world rushes by. Boarded up and on the market, it stands sentinel over an era long past, but whose legacy lives on.

In the ’90s, people took existing models and bent them to their will…or they just tore them down altogether and built something novel.

And we did it together. People collaborated long before your Instagram timeline was polluted with spammy “DM to collab” comments from bots. It felt like everyone was in a band. And if you weren’t playing, you were writing. And if you were writing or making a ’zine, you were doing art for record covers or T-shirts.

When people took to the streets in PDX, it wasn’t performative or for the ’gram. The crowds built a person at a time. One person asking another to join them. And another. And then another.

It was a fantastic time. And it was the result of small steps adding up to something much larger.

No wonder it gave us so many good sounds.


On to the music…

This week, I’ve been listening to a ton of The Church. Ditto R.E.M. and Yo La Tengo (some of you may have seen that those are the two frontrunners for which discography Sam Colt and I work through next- stay tuned for the results!). There’s also some INXS and Shonen Knife, the latter of whom used to soundtrack a lot of my drives into the city for shows, We also lost L7 bassist Jennifer Finch late Saturday. L7 of course recorded at Smart Studios. Fuck cancer.

I promise this isn’t a nostalgia account; I might be an 80s/90s kid, but the music of 23026 gives me just as much hope as those records did back in the day. This week we’ve got some killer new sounds from Sweeping promises, Ceylon Sailor, Inland Years, and many more.

Side A is tracks 1-14. Side B is tracks 15-27.

The Playlist:

Other sources: | Apple | Qobuz | YouTube Music |

Now it’s your turn.

What’s been in heavy rotation in your world? Any new releases or shows you’re looking forward to? Whatcha got? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Some Thoughts on Dave Kendall and the Magic of MTV’s 120 Minutes

I miss my 120 Minutes CDs.

Like many people, I was lured in by the iPod. I could have all of my music on a little machine? I wouldn’t need to store anything? Sign me up! In the early 00s, I was already sick of moving boxes around. I did brisk business offloading them-interestingly, a lot went to APO boxes-and I never really looked back. The future was bright, and it belonged to these cool new devices being sold to us by impossibly cool ads.

We didn’t think much about the second-order effects of offshoring all these things. Or how putting “earbuds” and later AirPods in would seal us off from other music fans, both literally and figuratively. This shift wouldn’t be the death knell for IRL music discovery, but it certainly put it in the ICU. Being able to access music online, on our own terms, also meant the end of relevance for shows like MTV’s 120 Minutes. None of that will be news, of course.

The big news this week is that former 120 Minutes host Dave Kendall has passed away.

I’ve touched on this before, noting:

It’s always a tell when someone makes a snide remark about remembering when MTV actually played videos. The channel answered the siren song of more eyeballs and pivoted away from music to other content, resulting in more people associating the channel with reality TV, outnumbering those who knew it for music videos. This is why Gen Xers regard MTV as a vehicle for music discovery, and Millennials regard it as where they discovered Snooki.

MTV had shows back then, of course. Yo! MTV Raps introduced a whole generation to the world of hip hop. 120 Minutes did the same for alternative/indie music, and this was when the term alternative still meant, well, alternative. NBC might’ve coined the term Must See TV, but for someone like my fellow travelers and me, this was the show to watch, even if it was on impossibly late. Sometimes that meant taping it and watching the next day after school (no internet = no spoilers). I got rid of those tapes, too. They’d be fun to watch, though.

They often let musicians from your fave bands host, and things would often get… interesting…I mean, does anyone else remember when Greg Dulli and Donald Logue hosted 120 Minutes?

For that matter, does anyone remember when MTV would just give 2 hours of airtime to people who’d do things like reenact scenes from The Godfather before teasing upcoming videos from “The Radiohead & The Pavement?”

Those were fun, of course, but the regular hosts were what made it great. Kevin Seal was as irreverent as anyone. Matt Pinfield’s encyclopedic knowledge was his superpower, and to be fair, one he only ever used for good. That would’ve made lesser men interminable.

But in between them was Dave Kendall. An affable guy with cool hair and a cool accent, both of which lent him more credibility than any other VJ, though I imagine metal heads felt the same way about Headbangers Ball hosts Adam Curry and Riki Rachtman.

Week in, week out, he would introduce legions of indie/alternative/goth kids to their new favorite bands. Alternatively, his would often be the only chance their fave current-band videos would ever see the light of day airtime.

In 2026, YouTube exists. In 1992, this was it.

“Dave was one of the true believers. Long before alternative music found its way into the mainstream, he was there every week on 120 Minutes, introducing people to bands that would go on to define an era. He didn’t just host a show. He gave a home to music that deserved to be heard. He loved the music, respected the artists, and connected with fans in a way that always felt authentic. “That’s a rare gift.”

~Matt Pinfield

It’s possible that Kendall was just reading cue cards or parroting what an A&R exec had handed him to read, but I doubt it, and if that’s the case, don’t tell me. He was a TV host, sure, but this was also a show whose idea he pitched and sold to the network. More than that, he was the man introducing us to a world of new bands and sounds. For those of us not yet in college, he was the substitute for the cool kid down the hall with the crate full of cool shit.

Today, you might get lucky and have the algorithm serve you up that sort of thing, but I doubt it. You can, of course, get anything you want anytime online- including links to every 120 Minutes episode and a list of hosts. This morning, I listened to a playlist I made via Qobuz. You can usually find “The Pavement” on there. You won’t find “The Radiohead.” It’s wild what you can build with 1’s and 0’s. That’s today’s version of the mixtape, but a lot of the tracks on there are bands introduced to me via 120 Minutes that later spent a lot of time on Maxell cassettes in my car. I watched the show and picked up copies (and later, picked up a pen). Others watched and picked up guitars. Those descendants often make these playlists, too.

It all makes for an incredible time to be alive, but there’s an electricity missing there. If you’re intentionally looking something up, it’s not the same lottery. Ultimately, that’s something people like me attributed to Kendall, and where much of that affinity lies. That his stint on the show neatly coincided with my peak music-discovery years doesn’t hurt. I hammered out a proverbial shitty first draft on Wednesday morning shortly after seeing news of his passing online. It would’ve been better to hear it via MTV News, but that too exists only as a memory now. I guess it’s cool that he outlived the network?

CDs are making a bit of a revival, so there’s that. Kendall would probably dig it. I’m taking some liberties here, but I like to think he was a CD guy, outside of DJ’ing, of course. Looking at the Nevermind the Mainstream comps now (online obvs.), the track lists for Volumes 1 & 2 read like who’s who of my favorite bands. To say that’s down to the influence of 120 Minutes and Kendall is not assumptive. I’m also confident there are a lot of people out there who would say the same.

If there’s any justice in the world, by now you’ll have seen many well-written obituaries, fueled by memories of people like me who used to stay up late just to see what Kendall would gift us next.

Thanks, Dave, and rest easy.