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.
As always, thank you to those who have recently upgraded their subscriptions. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts also help!
When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:
One evening a million years ago, I pulled up at a red light. It was one of those mildly annoying deals where there are no other cars around except you…or in this case, one other holding a spot in line for me—just two cars surrounded by acres of asphalt and neon. It was a windows-down kind of night, so I heard him before I came to a complete stop.
Brimful of Asha on the forty-five Well, it’s a brimful of Asha on the forty-five Brimful of Asha on the forty-five Well, it’s a brimful of Asha on the forty-five
Next to me was a guy singing his lungs out, fully into the song and fully in the moment. He was without a single care in the world, not a single F to give about who might see him. I think about that guy a lot—doubly so in an era where polish, sheen, and keeping up appearances often take priority. God forbid anyone be seen as “cringe,” or whatever the haters are calling it today.
I’m also fully invested in the Olympics and all of its subplots, including Alysa Liu and Eileen Gu, two world-class athletes who are racking up medals and tearing down preconceived notions of what an athlete should be and how they ought to carry themselves. It might be easy to point at Liu’s hair, or the way Gu claps back at reporters, but frankly, it’s refreshing to see. And who wouldn’t be on board with that mix of confidence and exuberance? Like my man at the intersection, they’re living life their way, and we can take it or leave it. That’s what I’m f**king talking about.
KA—
On to the music…
A few of you have asked whether I sequence these as an album or mixtape. The answer is always “yes.” In my head, I imagine them being played on your morning commute or road trip. I’m too old to use the word “vibes” as much as I have lately, but, well, if the shoe fits…
This week, Side A is tracks 1-13 (ends with “Real Love Baby”), with Side B being 14-27.
Beck’s story is a strange one. You never really know where to put him. Is he altnernative? Sure, I guess so- and his first few “hits’ make apretty good case for that- but he can also write a gorgeous tune (see, also: most of Morning Phase). You never know what you’re gonna get, but you can always bank on it being interesting.
And so, after almost a decade-long absence, he’s back with an 8-song release of covers, rarities, etc. It is mostly acoustic and pretty low-key. Much closer to something like “Blue Moon” than “Devil’s Haircut.” The lone original (“Ramona” ) is old enough to drive.
The title track is a Korgis cover from the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind soundtrack, and is this writer’s favorite on the record. Along the way, we also get covers from Elvis (“Can’t Help Falling in Love”), Daniel Johnson (“True Love Will Find You In the End”), Hank Williams, and more. All are on target, except for Can’t Help Falling in Love. Some songs shouldn’t be covered, but for my money UB40’s is the best attempt. It could also be fallout from having to listen to the Silver soundtrack as mandatory in-store play.
So yeah, not a typical Beck record, but then again, what is?
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.
As always, thank you to those who have recently upgraded their subscriptions. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts also help!
When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:
My little suburb has its own Indivisible chapter that coordinates things like No Kings marches and a standing protest on one of the main corners here in town. There are, of course, an infinite number of things people would rather be doing than defending our republic—things like listening to records— but here we are.
There’s also a cool newsletter (because of course there is), with thought-provoking links and a subsection titled Journalism That Might Be Worth Your Time and/or Money. As Jeff Bezos continues to burn WaPo to the ground, reporters are finding themselves landing elsewhere… and writing obits for the place they used to call home. This one from Becca Rothfeld was particularly poignant, and I’ve been thinking about this quote quite a bit:
A newspaper is—or ought to be—the opposite of an algorithm, a bastion of enlightened generalism in an era of hyperspecialization and personalized marketing. It assumes that there is a range of subjects an educated reader ought to know about, whether she knows that she ought to know about them or not.
I’m mindful of the coarse analogy, but in its own way, that’s what we’re trying to do here: share records and artists you might not know about, but who might be your next favorite. Algorithm-based platforms serve you a nonstop trough of dopamine and whatever an opaque data set suggests will keep you locked inside their walled garden. Blogs and newsletters advocate for sounds that are worthy of your attention.
Advocacy in this context comes from a lot of corners. In the case of this playlist, Camper Van Beethoven was brought to my attention several lifetimes ago by one of my friends up the block, who played their cover of “Pictures of Matchstick Men” incessantly. Guadalcanal Diary landed on my radar thanks to a librarian who deemed it something worthy of patrons’ attention. Devo? Thanks, MTV!
Fast-forward into today: GUV came courtesy of the fantastic Rosy Overdrive blog, while the Julia track is the latest from a friend of our pal Billy Cuthrell—so call it a referral? Either way, I’d make the (easy, IMO) case that all of these are worthy of your time and space on your playlists. You might not know every name, but hopefully there’s a new favorite or two just waiting for you.
KA—
On to the music…
A few of you have asked whether I sequence these as an album or mixtape. The answer is always “yes.” In my head, I imagine them being played on your morning commute or road trip. I’m too old to use the word “vibes” as much as I have lately, but, well, if the shoe fits…
This week, Side A is tracks 1-12 (ends with “Barbra”), with Side B being 13-27.
The band’s latest takes what’s worked and builds on it.
Cover art courtesy of New West Records
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at Singin’ to an Empty Chair from Ratboys
With a band like Ratboys, there will inevitably be people claiming they’ve been around since Day 1, checking their watch, and wondering what took the rest of us so long.
I am not one of those people.
I was late to the party, arriving like I assume many people, with 2023’s The Window. By that point, they’d been around almost a decade. And as much as I’d like to cash in some hipster cred and cite some arcane influence and trace it back to another equally cool band, it was for a much less cool reason: they have a track named after a city near where I live (“Black Earth WI”). It’s also worth noting that the band and producer Chris Walla decamped to rural WI for some of the new record’s early tracking.
Like most everyone else, I quickly fell in love with the fuzzy riffs, the elements of power pop, and the way it felt so alive. It felt like a debut record from an overnight success (it wasn’t).
Those same high expectations have wrecked countless follow-up releases. Would they keep the momentum going, or would it feel like they’d lost their fastball?
Part of Ratboys appeal is their absurdly good ability at building emotional see-saws in their songs. If The Window did well to blend sweet melodies and crashing riffs, Singin’ perfects it.
“Know You Then,” one of the record’s chunkiest songs, turns the refrain—“I didn’t know you then”—into something way more potent and possibly painful.
I mean:
Kept it to yourself You couldn’t make a sound Oh, I would have been there in less than a second If time and space allowed
Oof. If you ever stood quiet while someone else was being bullied, this one’ll give you pause. No idea if that’s what Julia Steiner had in mind while penning this, but that’s sure what I took away from it (and lemme just take this chance to retroactively apologize to anyone that might’ve been caught in the crossfire of my childhood).
“Anywhere” is a straight ripper, and utterly infectious. That’s really all I need to say about that.
For a Chicago band, “Penny in the Lake” sure sounds like it came from Kentucky (or at least southern Illinois). They’ve always dabbled in Americana—and Black Earth is far enough out of the city that I’m counting it— but here they go all in. It’s delightfully breezy and more countrified than anything else on the record.
“The World, So Madly” will evoke the best parts of Belly and Tanya Donelly.
From here, things slow down and slowly morph into something heavier. “I Just Want You To Know The Truth,” “What’s Right?” and “Burn It Down” are an incredible 3-song run. Longtime readers know I’m a sucker for a good outro, and the latter has one that’s as good as any out there. It’s one of the highlights of the whole record. YMMV.
All of that leads up to “At Peace in the Hundred Acre Wood,” a disarmingly quiet(er) closer that feels like closure as much as anything else.
With all of that as context, Singin’ to an Empty Chair feels less like a reinvention and more like refinement. They didn’t fix what wasn’t broken, or take a stab at some sort of “new creative direction.” They haven’t lost any heat. The band knows what they’ve got and what we want. You still get what you expect from a Ratboys record, but it all locks in with a clarity and purpose that wasn’t always there before.
Hate’s obviously a strong word, and these challenges give really “If you don’t forward this email to 10 friends…” energy, but I thought it’d be fun to play along anyway…
ASMR
Internet scolds
“bros”- as in all of ’em: Ai, Tech, Crypto…
Gatekeeping
Anything Meta (as in the brand)
Vinyl snobs- if you’re making fun of someone for being excited about a record you don’t personally like, it’s time to reexamine your life.
ICE (Should be obvious, but…)
Low level managers that buy into Theory X and then wonder why morale is so low
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.
As always, thank you to those who have recently upgraded their subscriptions. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts also help!
When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:
I swim in an ocean of acronyms at work. It’s not quite its own language, but it’s close — like Scouse meets COBOL (or something). There is a shared language among carriers. But it’s different enough that when DL and NW merged, corp. comm issued us cheat sheets so we’d know what our new colleagues were saying. Every industry, group, etc. has its own argot, it’s own inside baseball talk — and don’t get me started on inside baseball about… baseball. Mostly, it’s just linguistically easier. A picture is worth 10,000 words, but an acronym or two are worth at least a handful, right?
I thought we were good, and then I came across this over on Futility Closet:
Just a bit of trivia: In the New South Wales railway system, the telegraph code RYZY meant:
Vehicle No ….. may be worked forward to ….. behind the brakevan of a suitable goods train during daylight provided locomotive branch certifies fit to travel. If the damaged vehicle is fitted with automatic coupling it must only be worked forward behind a brakevan also fitted with automatic coupling by connecting the automatic couplers on each vehicle but, if fitted with ordinary drawgear, it must be screw coupled. Westinghouse brake to be in use throughout train and on damaged vehicle. Guard to be given written instructions to carefully watch vehicle en route.
This reduced a 90-word message to four letters.
Oof.
I’m aware of the irony of using a lot of words to talk about acronyms and snapshots, but what I’m getting to is this: these playlists are a snapshot of my week — of where I’ve been, or at least where my mind’s wandered. Belly of the Whale? The cover art took me back to the Oregon coast and family vacations as a kid-the cover art is of a shipwreck you can climb on and around. The Strokes? They’re part of the Best of ’01 bracket coming up — as are R.E.M. (not this record, of course) and Life Without Buildings. Res should’ve been in, but didn’t get the votes needed. That’s probably worth its own story.
Wall of Voodoo pops into my head every so often for no reason — and I may or may not have watched their US Festival performance while procrastinating at work this past week. There are plenty of lookbacks, but also plenty of looking forward, with brand-new tracks from Spencer Hoffman, Vegas Water Taxi, and Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever. And the idea that the latter have a new record on the way is exciting. Frfr. YKWIM?
KA—
On to the music…
A few of you have asked whether I sequence these as an album or mixtape. The answer is always “yes.” In my head, I imagine them being played on your morning commute or road trip. I’m too old to use the word “vibes” as much as I have lately, but, well, if the shoe fits…
This week, Side A is tracks 1-12 (ends with The Outfield), with Side B being 13-27
Today we’re taking a look at the latest from at the latest from David Forman.
The boilerplate intro: Every year, I celebrate all the great music we’ve been gifted while worrying that next year will see the other shoe drop. I first did that in December 2020 and have been proven wrong every month since. Not only are there a ton of releases steadily coming out, but it also transcends genre or any other artificial guardrail we try to put up.
In other words, a ton of good stuff is still coming out, and there’s something for everyone. It’s almost overwhelming— but in all the best ways. These are another batch that caught my attention recently.
Hard to believe that it’s 2026 already, but here we are. Luckily for us, the records keep coming. Below are a few quick field reports from right between the sound machine.
Let’s get into it!
David Forman- Who You Been Talking To
Anytime I think of LA, I think of all the people that haven’t quite made it yet; the people whose story we don’t yet know. The waitress who’s in the biz, but that really just means a couple of IMDB credits as an extra. The disillusioned film major working a shitty office job, hoping for a better tomorrow. The hotel clerk working nights who’s got a screenplay that’s perfect- it just needs to get in front of the right eyes.
The second in the two-record deal Forman signed in 1976, Who You Been Talking To was recorded at the Sound Factory on Selma Avenue in Hollywood over two weeks in late summer 1977 (just days after Elvis Presley’s death) and engineered by Dave Hassinger, who had worked with the Rolling Stones and Frank Sinatra. Despite the extraordinary musicianship and Forman’s remarkable vocal performances, Arista Records head Clive Davis chose not to release the album, claiming he didn’t hear a radio hit, instead offering to return it to Forman to shop elsewhere. Devastated, Forman declined, and the tapes went into storage for nearly fifty years.
The story of David Forman’s Who You Been Talking To is the stuff of just such a screenplay. It’s the sort of story we love: an artist delivers their debut to incredible acclaim, only to record a follow-up at exactly the wrong time. The label refuses to release it, and said artist falls into obscurity, known still only to a few people who have copies of the first record.
Enter a music listening club- in this case, journalist Joe Hagan, photographer Tim Davis, and museum curator Joel Smith (Disclosure: Hagan offered to send me a copy of the album to listen to, which I accepted.). Smith happens upon the record in a cutout bin and falls in love with it. He shares it with the group, who all follow suit, and a minor obsession is born. Through a little detective work, they figure out Forman lives nearby and invite him to lunch. Forman plays them the (then) unreleased record, and a campaign to get it out into the world is launched.
Hagan had sent me links to the liner notes and a Bandcamp link ahead of time, but I decided to go into it cold (literally, as it was -18 when I first played it). My first surface-level impression was one of surprise; this is a really well-done record, with a murderer’s row of session musicians, including Ry Cooder, Jim Keltner, David Lindley, Fred Tackett, Tim Drummond, and Flaco Jimenez.
And while I get that Arista might not’ve wanted to go in this direction, I’m surprised they didn’t at least hold onto it and ship it later. I mean, Kudos to Clive Davis for offering it back to Forman, but still… this strikes me as a rare mistake by the man.
My second impression is that Forman reminds me of Randy Newman. Like, a lot. Especially his vocal stylings on tracks like “Thirty Dollars.” That’s certainly not a bad thing, but it’s a theme I couldn’t shake as the record went on.
The title track kicks things off and sets the tone; it’s a sultry groove, and once it landed in my ears, it stayed there for the rest of the day. “A Train Lady” is a bit of infectious soul that reminds me of sounds from the Grand Strand on the opposite coast. Maybe I just have beaches on my mind. Either way, it’s a ride I’m grabbing a ticket for.
Things slow down with the ballad “Painted in a Corner,” before a bit of a mistake with “Let It Go Now.” A pleading number, it feels like the stereotypical track they threw everything at (falsetto included). The money shot, as it were. You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take, I guess.
But just like one bad scene doesn’t take down a whole movie, we’re quickly back on track with “Midnight Mambo,” one of this writer’s favorites on the record. This represents a sharp shift to late-50s/60s pop melodies (right down to the obligatory sax solo). I spent a lot of time thinking about who might be best to cover it, and what their versions might sound like. My two faves were Jimmy Buffett and Dean Martin (suspension of disbelief is, of course, required here).
If “Midnight Mambo” dips a toe into the ‘50s/’60s, “What is so Wonderful” does a cannonball into the deep end, with its doo-wop and backup singers. Penultimate “Losing” is a dark track best suited for the backside of the clock. Not my cup of tea, but that’s a me issue. Maybe it was one Davis couldn’t get past, and that helped drive his decision to pass? We’ll never know. Either way, “Now That I Found You” kicks the tempo back up and ends things on a high note.
Fifty (ish) years is a long time to wait for a sequel. I talk a lot about records finding you at the right time, and this was a textbook example. I love that the universe aligned so that the right group of people found this at the right time and were able to share it with the world. Talk about a storybook ending.
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.
As always, thank you to those who have recently upgraded their subscriptions. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts also help!
When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:
As some of you know, I spent much of last week on a much-needed escape south of the border. It’s good not to have an agenda or an infinite scroll for a to-do list. It’s even better not have to wear pants. And for my money, nothing clears your mind or hits the mental reset better than just watching the ocean for hours on end. Sometimes I wonder if that makes me like Puddy when he “raw dogged” a flight back from India, but then I remember that I’m too old to care (shrugs).
At the end of our trip, a storm rolled through (translation: some light rain with heavy wind), sending wave after wave of sargassum algae to roll ashore. This, of course, is an occupational hazard for anyone traveling where the water’s warm, and I’m grateful it happened at the back end of our trip, not at the front.
I watched as one man, armed only with a pitchfork, worked tirelessly to move it from one pile to another. Soon, he was joined by 3-4 others, but this didn’t make it any less Sisyphean. I couldn’t help but see it as a metaphor for the nonstop waves of slop we’re subjected to. In the freelance editing work I do, I see it everywhere.
On the music side, we see it in the anonymous tracks that are slotted into our playlists, or “suggested” to us by an equally anonymous algorithm. These tracks are utterly forgettable; empty calories designed to briefly pacify a passive listener. It’s a lot, and it’s easy to become disheartened and disillusioned. To think that no one is still fighting the good fight. The good news is that it’s not true. There are people every day who come together and make records by their own hand and mind for us to enjoy (for my fellow synth pop/EDM peeps, if it first came from someone’s brain before hitting a sequencer, I’m counting it). It’s amazing, and an potent antidote to the waves of shit all around us.
Like my man with the pitchfork, they’re fighting an uphill battle but on the right side of cultural history.
KA—
A couple of quick notes:
There’s some new to me stuff from Junior League, Thomas Duxbury, and Atomic Tom here. Look for some words on them soon. “Little Light” is the latest from Santa Fe’s Maybe So and is on our pal Kiley Larsen ‘s Mama Mañana Records— another guy fighting the good fight. New Order’s Technique turned 37 this week, and well, you had to know this was coming. I was also at the Hard Rock in Rockford Illinois this week for a comedy show, and never in a million years would I have predicted hearing Bob Weir and The Dead as the before and after music. Rock & Roll weirdness is undefeated.
A few of you have asked whether I sequence these as an album or mixtape. The answer is always “yes.” In my head, I imagine them being played on your morning commute or road trip. I’m too old to use the word “vibes” as much as I have lately, but, well, if the shoe fits…
This week, Side A is tracks 1-12 (ends with New Order’s “Run”), with Side B being 13-27
Kevin Sent 
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