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.
As always, thank you to those who upgraded their subscriptions over the last several days. 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:
On to the music:
For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing.
The playlist below is some of what I’ve had in heavy rotation. And welcome to November. Hard to believe 2025 is already rounding third and heading for home, but here we are. Is it obvious that I’ve still got baseball on my brain? Trust your gut. Someday—in like, 10 years—I might be able to enjoy last night’s Game 7. Not yet, though. If you’re a Dodger fan, enjoy your time in the sun! You’ve earned it. To everyone else: spring’s comin’!
Anyway, like last week, this week’s listening cleaves closer to the fall weather than anything. Acapulco Lips are back to kick things off, followed by a 1–2 punch of fresh tracks from Joyer and The Convenience, before going back in time. Can you name-check the ’80s sitcom that referenced Scritti Politti in an episode and why it might (or how?) be relevant to the paragraph above?
Side B takes us to the Windy City and a new one from Ratboys. It’s a good day any time they gift us some new sounds! We’ve also got one from Cate Le Bon, thanks to Austin Kleon talking it up in a guest post for Jacqui Devaney . You never know where a new favorite might come from! This side also overindexes on sonic comfort food with The Fall, JAMC, and my all-time fave GBV track. They have a brand-new one out as well—because of course they do—but I haven’t had a chance to hear it yet.
“A clown is a coronary in a wig waiting to happen. “ ~ Sheila Moeschen
Good morning!
Today we’re diving into the sounds of the season. Spooky Szn, that is.
It’s Spooky szn y’all!
It’s October, and that means a season of ghouls and zombies. It also means pumpkin spice everything, and if you’re in a “battleground state” like I am, some years it means the torture of nonstop political attack ads that often run back-to-back-to-back. This is an off year, so we’ve mostly been spared, but all of this is its own horror show (waves hands around).
I don’t know about you, but I think I’d take the zombies if given a choice.
There are often certain conventions attached to holiday playlists.
For example, on Thanksgiving, there really can only be one song. With Christmas, people usually have their own lines drawn in the sand:
Traditional vs. non-traditional…
Religion-themed vs laic…
What’s the earliest allowable date to hear Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You…”
And so on…
Instagram photo courtesy of SW Lauden
Halloween lists don’t generally bend to those same orthodoxies.
Maybe it’s because so many of us associate the day with the same themes. It’s not a consumption vs. family debate. It’s trick-or-treating and bad movies. And if you live where I do, there’s the annual angst surrounding whether or not it’ll snow.
In other words, anything goes, as long as it can be loosely tied to the day.
There are plenty of standards, a few curveballs, and at least one legit jump scare in here…and hopefully a new favorite (or two) to add to your mixes!
What’re your favorite tracks to play on Halloween? Any tracks that should be on here? Let me know in the comments!
Thanks for being here,
KA—
The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Halloween Playlist:
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Volume 10 | October 2025: Sam & I throw the hoodies back on and share some perfect records for fall listening.
Good morning!
So nice, we’re doin’ it twice. Today Sam Colt and I are each sharing a few more of our favorite fall records…ones that might’ve been overlooked or deserve more time in the spotlight.
Welcome to the tenth installment of our (not so) new series! For those of you who may have missed previous editions, here’s a bit of context:
In this monthly series, Sam Colt and I will each share our picks for artists and/or titles that haven’t received their due. You’ll recognize Sam’s name from our On Repeat and Friends Best of Series, and also our Top 100 of all-time serieslast fall. These posts will adopt the latter’s format; I will make my case for my three picks and my reaction to Sam’s. Sam’s page will do the reverse.
In the inaugural post, we noted that successive editions would narrow things down slightly. Maybe a specific genre…maybe a specific era…maybe a specific…well, who knows!
Last month, I talked about the vibe shifts that coincide with the school year. Living in a college town puts all of those in sharper relief. Living in a place where you get all four seasons (sometimes in a day) cements it.
We’re in full swing here, with school having been in session long enough that high school playoffs have started. The UW Badgers football team hasn’t quite figured out that the regular season has started, but that’s… fine. Hockey’s here, and hoops start soon enough! (EDIT: Tonight, actually!)
It’s the most wonderful time of the year. It’s also the time of year when a certain set of records hits differently than they do in the dog days of summer or the preternaturally hopeful late spring. These are generally softer—or if not, at least have heavier themes. Sometimes a record just “feels like fall.” Or if your mind’s wired like mine, a record that was released in October with blue cover art forever imprints itself as an autumn record.
Whatever the reason, there are a lot of fall records. Enough so that Sam and I felt like we’d left some great picks on the table last month. The responses we got from all of you said the same. So we went back to the crates and grabbed a few more that fit the bill. Some of these will be familiar. Some might be ones that get overlooked by bigger releases in the artist’s catalog.
I am a devout heliophile. Summer is my time—even if I don’t like sweating. For me, fall starts strong: it’s still sunny, there’s all the new school year energy, etc. But just underneath that is the slight unease that comes with knowing temps in the teens and a monochromatic landscape are right around the corner.
Zooming out, I think on some level, the records here represent a sort of fight against the dying of the light. I don’t mean in some big-minded, overly literate way—I mean literally clinging to daylight for as long as Mother Nature’ll let me. Someday I will retire. My plan? Put a snowblower in the back of the truck. As soon as I get somewhere that people ask what it is, I’ll know I’m far enough south. That day’s not here yet, and I need to keep finding comfort in records.
Sam paints a picture of a guy who’s already got his sweaters out and is raring to go. Maybe this is his time to shine? I probably should’ve asked him when we were chatting about this month’s piece. Either way, all of his picks were new to me. Maybe a few of these will be to you as well? At any rate, we decided on a second round, and here we are.
When you’re done here, remember to check out Sam’s take at This Is a Newsletter!
After a long hiatus, Sugar is back. After a recent cryptic post on Instagram, they confirmed it by releasing a single and a few tour dates. I suppose a post on social media is how one builds hype in 2025. In 1992, it looked different. You might read about a record in a magazine. Maybe see something on 120 Minutes. And of course, word of mouth. In the fall of that year, I was swimming in all of those circles and constantly on the hunt for new sounds. When/where I first heard about this project has been lost to time, but the smart money says word of mouth. I knew Hüsker Dü—New Day Rising is still an all-timer for me—and I knew of Mould’s solo work. But a new band? That had my curiosity piqued.
There’s no need to bury the lede here: this record rips. Mould’s solo work to that point was good, but he’s in his element when the amps are set to “full throttle.” Writing about it previously, I noted:
Sugar feels like Hüsker Dü if you turn up the pop dial and down the screaming. It hits as hard as anything they put out, but it’s sunnier, more refined, and almost anthemic. Mould is on record as loving MBV’s Loveless and, upon hearing it, recognized the need to add more dimensions to his sound. Mission accomplished, but it never gets too complex. The album is track after track of pop rock that goes 100 mph. The only real pause you get is on “If I Can’t Change Your Mind,” a lovely respite and a highlight on the record. Copper Blue is a record that holds up a lot better than much of what came out in the fall of ’92. You can hear vestigial traces of it in hundreds of records that have come in the years since, including Mould’s more recent solo work.
For years, the answer to the question, “What’s the loudest concert you’ve ever been to?” was Sugar. And it wasn’t even close. Melvins took that title a few weeks ago, but this record is still one of the best in Mould’s discography—and a perfect one to rattle those last leaves off the trees in your yard.
Sam’s Pick and My Take: Elliott Smith – Self-Titled
Speaking of marketing: one of the things I miss are concert flyers posted on telephone poles. I know they still exist, but they seem like a much rarer commodity today. Growing up in Portland, one of our favorite things to do (besides going to the shows themselves) was to walk around NW Portland—this was before it had been rebranded as “The Pearl”—and find flyers. If it was for a show that had passed, we felt like they were fair game to take. If it was for an upcoming show, we only did if there was more than one on the post. I don’t know who was putting these up, but at least one guy was hella lazy and would put like 15 on each pole so he could clock out early. Whoever you are, thank you.
That’s all to say that I liked Heatmiser, and one of those flyers graced my bedroom walls for a good chunk of my teens. I feel lucky to say that I was able to see them play.
This record is very clearly not a Heatmiser record. Their louder, electric sound is replaced by a gentler acoustic one. That shift is even more acute if you decide that listening to them before this album is a good idea. Ask me how I know this.
So, about the record: the TL;DR is that it’s a much more spare affair than much of what the band put out. But this softer sound also gave Smith’s voice room to stand in front of the music, rather than having to shout over it. The themes are darker, and there’s no shortage of brooding. Smith met a tragic end, and it’s easy—I think—to slip into a Talmudic parsing of lyrics, looking for clues or cries for help. Mostly, I think he was just looking to be taken seriously as a songwriter and made a record that reflected where his head was at at this point.
Bar trivia: Alphabet Town is in the same part of town I mentioned above, and when he sings “I’ll show you around this alphabet town,” I wonder if he was imagining those same pole-lined streets my friends and I were cruising up and down looking for Heatmiser fliers. The streets all go in alphabetical order, and at least four Simpsons characters got their names from them (Matt Groening is also a PDX native). I’ve also literally never heard it referred to as such until recently. If you happen to look up the list or find yourself in the Rose City, just know that “Couch” rhymes with “Pooch.”
Rebecca Gates joins him on “St. Ides Heaven.” Gates was one half of The Spinanes, a band that belongs on any list of underrated early-’90s bands from the NW.
Yo La Tengo – Painful
If you’ve been with us for any length of time, you’ve seen me spill some words about this band. The joke is that they’re one of your favorite bands’ favorite bands. Well, that applies to music writers, too. Heck, this isn’t even the first time this series that this record has come up.
Writing about it previously, I noted:
That steadiness is reflected in the record itself. Previous YLT records had a bad habit of bouncing between walls of fuzz and something akin to folk rock. Appealing yet inconsistent. Ira Kaplan’s vocals could verge into a bratty/sneering style. He hasn’t lost his edge, but they’ve evolved into a more—if not congenial—then conversational style.
One of YLT’s hallmarks is that any song feels like it could be remade in a dozen different ways. Much of Painful continues that tradition—see the two wildly different versions of “Big Day Coming” as Exhibit A—but it also feels fully fleshed out. The record turned 30 earlier this year, but it’s the one I repeatedly return to. I can’t say the same for many of the records released around the same time.
The first lyrics we hear are “Let’s be undecided,” but Painful is a decisive statement record from a band fully formed. One hitting its stride and never looking back.
If you’re getting the idea that it’s an important record to me, trust your gut. What it’s not, though, is a summer record. Not that YLT is a band you play while out on the lake, but even relatively speaking, some tracks pair better with October. And it doesn’t hurt that this record came out in October. I’d make an “Autumn Sweater” joke here, but that’d be too on the nose.
One could also make the argument that And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out fits here, but it’s a brooding record—more fitting for short days and long nights when you’re hunkered in. Painful still has jolts of energy in it, much like those random 70-degree days when you’ve already pulled out your sweatshirts and hard pants. My copy might not leave the shelf a lot in July, but in October or November? That’s a different story.
Sam’s Pick and My Take: Alex Turner – Submarine (EP) & boygenius – S/T (EP)
Most of what I know about Arctic Monkeys actually comes from Sam, who included their 2006 record Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not in our Top 100 series. Likewise, frontman Alex Turner didn’t know much about the film he was asked to score—director Richard Ayoade didn’t let him see any of the film until after the songs had been composed. He delivered a lovely (to my ear) EP of five(-ish) tracks. I say that as a snippet of “Stuck on the Puzzle” kicks the record off. Speaking of which, the full version is a highlight here, and is as close as we’re gonna get to a conventional pop song. It’s also the fastest song on the record—again, it’s all relative; by fast, I really just mean that there are some drums on it. The pace is lilting, and maybe that’s why it feels right for fall. Its slower pace and gentle sounds are fitting for this time of year.
On that Arctic Monkeys record, Sam noted that the first words we hear from Turner are: “Anticipation has a habit to set you up for disappointment.” Maybe. But not in this case. I always anticipate Sam’s picks, as they usually involve something I’ve never heard before. I had no idea what I was in for, but this was anything but disappointing.
If these words have reached you, I’m fairly sure you’re familiar with boygenius, and 2023’s cleverly titled record… the record. It was seemingly everywhere, and few AOTY lists left it off. Objectively, it was solid. Subjectively, it wasn’t my speed. I was a fan of Bridgers (both solo and with Better Oblivion Community Center), but I dunno… it just never really landed with me. Maybe a case of anticipation setting me up for disappointment.
Nevertheless…
“Bite the Hand” kicks things off with Lucy Daucus starting before being joined by Bridgers and Julien Baker, and the harmonies are incredible. The record might not’ve been my thing, but that’s a me problem. Their talent—and the way they play off one another—isn’t in question. And if it is, that last bit of this track should be Defense Exhibit A.
Sometimes fall can be subtly jarring. I know that’s an oxymoron, but I’m thinking about those times when you walk outside and the air is a lot sharper than you bargained for—and you realize another whole season has passed. “Stay Down” caught me in a similar fashion—I was listening and thinking that Julien Baker is really underrated, and that this was a pretty song… and then I started listening to the lyrics:
I look at you and you look at a screen I’m in the back seat of my body I’m just steerin’ my life in a video game Similar acts and a different name
Damn.
I suppose this is where I should talk more about the record and the level of talent it takes to pull off making dark lyrics sound pretty. Or delve into production or some other liner-notes-style details. Mostly, what I thought as I listened was: okay, I’m on board now. I didn’t get the fervor around the record. Now I do. I get it.
The Fall – Extricate
John Peel once described The Fall as “always different, always the same,” and it’s easy to see how that could be construed as reductive—but The Fall were one of his favorite bands, and I’ve always interpreted that line the same way you might describe Guided By Voices. If you’re not a fan, everything sounds kind of the same. If you’re listening with open ears, there’s a ton of variation in style and sound. Robert Pollard is the only constant for GBV, and Mark E. Smith for The Fall. Both bands can be described as “prolific,” with dozens of records apiece.
The Fall’s discography can be broken up into seasons: the early years, the Brix years, etc. “Brix” refers to Brix Smith, a member of the band and Mark’s one-time wife.
Extricate is the first record of the post-Brix era (both in the band and in Mark’s life), and in many ways, it feels like a divorce record. If you overlay the five stages of grief onto the tracklisting, you can kinda imagine him going through it as he wrote. He’s at turns distraught, sanguine, and as cynical as ever—mostly the latter. The names might’ve changed, but the sentiment hasn’t. Always different, always the same.
Musically, the sound is way different, with things like keyboards and (I think?) a violin. There are horns, too. It’s almost as if Smith is trying to distract himself from the absence Brix (and her guitar) left behind.
“Bill Is Dead” is gorgeous and feels almost like an elegy for a relationship that’s imploded. We’ve hit the Acceptance stage early, and it’s the looking back you do while walking through the ashes of something that didn’t quite make it to forever. Then you remember who you’re listening to and imagine it being sarcastic, and well… Oops. Still rad, though. Still one of my all-time favorites from a band that put out countless tracks.
Other points on the curve include Anger (“Black Monk Theme Pt. 1” and “Sing, Harpy!”). It’s a wild ride all around—and one I think more people should take. Most “best of” lists usually slot this one in around mid-pack to upper-third, with Hex Induction Hour or This Nation’s Saving Grace taking the top spot. But Extricate is one of my faves and belongs right up there with the best of ’em.
Sam’s Pick and My Take: Real Estate – Atlas
Once again, Sam has batted 1.000 regarding records I haven’t heard. Honestly, I’m not sure I’d even heard of Real Estate. That said, this is nice (again, not derogatory). It feels of a piece with bands like The Shins—the type of record you hear on a day when you’ve got wool socks on, have scraped your windshield, and half the heat in the car is coming from the travel mug between your seats.
I can easily see myself playing this one quite a bit in the coming weeks.
That’s a wrap! What are your thoughts on these records? Do you own any of them? Share your thoughts in the comments! Rants, raves, and spicy takes are all welcome. And if you have any ideas on future themes, please share those as well! Don’t forget to check out Sam’s thoughts over at This Is a Newsletter!
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.
As always, thank you to those who upgraded their subscriptions over the last several days. 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:
For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing.
The playlist below is some of what I’ve had in heavy rotation. The last vestiges of summer finally seem to be giving way here, and fall is in full swing. In my part of the world, that means bright red trees and frosty windshields. It also means winter isn’t too far out.
There are records I like in July, and some that really only see daylight this time of year. Maybe that’s you, too? At any rate, my listening habits tend to change with the seasons, and this week’s playlist reflects those cooler temps and lower sun. Side A kicks off with an all-timer from one of my favorite bands. Sonic comfort food? Maybe. From there, we go to brand new stuff from Dazy and Formal Sppeedwear before more comfort food from Paul Wedsterberg.
Side B takes us back to early ‘90s Portland and Elliott Smith before he was, you know, Elliott Smith. We visit another Smith (as in Mark E., Neko Case, and Louisville before ending with a gorgeous track from Ezra Furman.
Some thoughts on Ticketmaster, Resellers, and Swifties.
It shouldn’t surprise you that a considerable chunk of my adolescent years were spent going to, coming from, or actually at shows. If you’re reading this, I’d bet our timelines overlap.
Some of that was down to questionable life decisions—I quit more than one job after being unable to get time off. Some was timing— people on my block had cars long before I did, making getting downtown easier. But mostly, it was economics. Tickets were simply cheaper (something that will surprise absolutely no one). We dealt with plenty along the way, but automated resellers weren’t one of ’em.
Back then, the first step to seeing a show usually meant heading to a brick-and-mortar building—a sporting goods store called GI Joe’s (think Dick’s Sporting Goods, but with a token record section). They had a desk whose sole mission was to sell park passes, fishing licenses, and concert tickets. This was the designated Ticketmaster outlet, back before they decided to go all in on villain shit. Prices were reasonable, and fees weren’t absurd. Most bands and crews weren’t getting rich, but at least the system hadn’t yet been weaponized against us.
Those little paper tickets were passports to whole new worlds—or beloved old haunts. Today, they mostly live in shoeboxes or scrapbooks. Concert tickets now exist on phones or in apps we’re forced to download—just a string of ones and zeroes sitting on a server somewhere. And speaking of numbers: the average ticket last year was $136.45, up about 42% from just five years earlier.
I know, I know—I’m deep in “old man yells at cloud” territory. Stick with me.
This isn’t a “things were cheaper in my day” stemwinder. Of course they were—so was everything else. I’ve got neighbors who had apartments downtown, paid $250 a month, and can’t figure out what today’s kids are griping about. I get it.
There were certainly systemic issues even then, and Pearl Jam was already taking on Ticketmaster. People were already testing workarounds. But complete monopolization hadn’t yet hit, and “reseller” still usually meant a chainsmoking, slightly sketchy dude in the parking lot an hour before showtime. Thirty-five-ish years later, we’re still inventing workarounds: house shows are back, pop-ups are a thing, and so on.
It’s the reseller I want to focus on here.
And look, I get it—we live in a late-stage capitalist hellscape. Supply and demand are real. So is surge pricing. Even the airline I may or may not work for has toyed with the idea. In aviation, it’s called Yield Management. In the music world, it more closely resembles highway robbery. And look, if artists and crews were the ones making that extra revenue, it might be palatable—but they’re not. It’s going to faceless corporations and bad actors who’ve mastered the system. The losers? Concertgoers and, occasionally, local venue owners.
Today’s resellers are much more ominous and much better equipped. They have all the levers of technology at their fingertips and know how to weaponize each one. The rise of AI has changed the rules of engagement yet again. If you’ve ever tried to buy tickets only to find the remaining ones priced several orders of magnitude above face value, you know what I’m talking about.
It’s gotten so bad that legislation was recently introduced here in Wisconsin to push back. The bill—introduced by Democratic lawmakers—came after a theater in Racine watched helplessly as $22 tickets ballooned to several hundred dollars for a production of Legally Blonde, effectively pricing people out of the show and diverting revenue from the venue. If passed, it would require resellers to disclose total ticket costs, cap markup limits, and prohibit bots that scoop up tickets before fans can.
History is littered with similar bills that never made it out of committee. Others have tried to tackle pricing itself. If I ruled the world, future versions would include bans on venues taking merch cuts. I’m not holding my breath. That’s one the market itself will have to handle—maybe if enough of us stop going to those places, they’ll stop. Maybe.
You’ve got to have a dream, right?
Back to the bill: Wisconsin is one of the most politically balkanized states in the nation. Both parties spend more time throwing rocks at each other than actually getting things done. The GOP here can be politely characterized as “humorless.” Still, I’d like to think there’s a sliver left that remembers it’s supposed to champion small business and working people. They’ve whiffed on plenty of easy wins in recent years—hopefully this won’t be one of them. Other states are following similar paths, but like the slogan says: As goes Wisconsin…
Ideally, these obscene price hikes will go the way of the paper ticket. My dream is that kids today get to experience the same adventures I did—and that, for once, consumers aren’t the ones left holding the bag.
If nothing else, at least the bill has a killer name: the Stop Wildly Inflated Fees and Ticketing Industry Exploitation Act. 11/10 No notes. Hopefully, our elected officials will get it and realize the peril of voting against something with a title like this.
Political survival 101: Never start a land war with Swifties.
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.
As always, thank you to those who upgraded their subscriptions over the last several days. 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:
For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing.
The playlist below is some of what I’ve had in heavy rotation. This week, we’re starting by heading back in time (and just a little bit south of here) to Rockford Illinois, for a dose of Cheap Trick. Are they Power Pop? Maybe. Do they rock? No doubt. From there we’ve got a deeper cut from JAMC, and a brand new one from
It’s Spooky Szn, so Side 2 kicks off with a trifecta of Fever Ray’s “Shiver,” Water From Your Eyes’ “Nights In Armor,” and something from LA Witch, before ending with fresh tracks from Massage, Joel Cusumano, and Petrov, the Hero.
Broken record alert: I know I’ve said it for several weeks now, but it’s true: 2025 might be is a hot mess, but not when it comes to new music.
Volume 9 | September 2025: Sam & I throw on hoodies and share some perfect records for fall listening.
Good morning!
Today Sam Colt and I are each sharing a few of our favorite fall records…ones that might’ve been overlooked or deserve more time in the spotlight.
Welcome to the ninth installment of our (not so) new series! For those of you who may have missed previous editions, here’s a bit of context:
In this monthly series, Sam Colt and I will each share our picks for artists and/or titles that haven’t received their due. You’ll recognize Sam’s name from our On Repeat and Friends Best of Series, and also our Top 100 of all-time serieslast fall. These posts will adopt the latter’s format; I will make my case for my three picks and my reaction to Sam’s. Sam’s page will do the reverse.
In the inaugural post, we noted that successive editions would narrow things down slightly. Maybe a specific genre…maybe a specific era…maybe a specific…well, who knows!
As many of you know, I live in a college town. It’s a big enough school that the city’s energy ebbs and flows in tune with the academic year. Spring is full of excitement about what’s to come. Summer is for the locals. Winter is… well, I live in the upper Midwest, so winter is usually for hunkering down and trying not to track salt everywhere. And hockey. Always hockey.
That leaves fall. As a card-carrying Gen Xer, it’s in my DNA to snicker at woo-woo things like “vibe shifts,” but there’s a palpable change that happens as soon as the first wave of students returns for the new academic year. The chaos usually kicks off with Hippie Christmas, followed by the steady arrival of new and returning students, and all the familiar events we associate with the collegiate experience: football games, drinks at the Memorial Union, and so on.
There’s a brief window before we lose the daylight and bearable temperatures where the dial turns down from “sweltering” to “this is kinda nice.” The dress code might call for a parka in the morning and a t-shirt in the afternoon. It’s a heady time for the shorts-and-hoodie crowd (of which I am also a card-carrying member). That’s the sweet spot we’re traveling to today.
This month, Sam and I are sharing a few fall records that for whatever reason might’ve been overlooked.
When you’re done here, remember to check out Sam’s take at This Is a Newsletter!
Let’s get to it!
KA—
Brothertiger- Fundamentals III
You have to dig deep to find a silver lining in the COVID lockdown, but if you’re struggling to come up with an example, I offer you Brothertiger’s Fundamentals series. Like many musicians, John Jagos was forced to stop public performances in 2020, but that didn’t mean he stopped performing. Jagos had previously made an album of Tears for Fears covers and later released a self-titled album that was one of my favorites of 2022. But in between, the pandemic forced him into pivoting to livestreams.
Each of these instrumental records was born and evolved in real time during those livestreams, while fans offered feedback to help shape them. There are four in total, but Vol. III is far and away my favorite, with Westerlies being a highlight. It’s a track a friend of the newsletter
Kiley Larsen once described as “the one with that never-ending Bruce Hornsby piano riff.” He’s right. And it’s awesome.
Likewise, the shimmering pianos of Pelée and the expansive quality of closing track Gran Canaria wrap the album in light—something I find myself desperately clinging to as the days grow increasingly shorter.
Each of the records is loosely built around an element, but I also think there’s an unintentional(?) emotional arc across the series. I might be reading too much into it, but for me Vol. I is moody and uncertain. Vol. II, even more so. In contrast, Vol. III feels like a release. It’s much more buoyant and joyful than the two that came before it.
Whenever I’m stuck writing a piece, I like to look out the window. In my field of vision is a tree that seems to operate on its own schedule. It’s the first to turn bright red while the others around it are still enamored with their lush green colors. It just does its own thing—looking forward to whatever’s coming next and ignoring everything else around it. That tree reminds me of this record, and vice versa.
Sam’s pick and my take: Cleo Sol- Rose in the Dark
The first thing I should tell you is that in my early research, I came across Cleo Sol’s name in a forum thread where someone described her music as “Erykah Badu meets Sade.” That got my attention. The second was that I was shocked to pull up this record on Spotify and see that she has over 3 million monthly listens. Another case of my being late to the party, I guess.
And that count makes more sense when you learn that Sol is a part of SAULT, but this records stand firmly on its own. Rose in the Dark may not carry the experimental edge of her group projects, but it thrives in its own constraints. The mood here is chilled out, and the sound is stripped down. IMO, that subtlety is a strength. Her singing is poised, and she‘s not overselling the emotion. The production mirrors that approach: pared back, easygoing, and full of nods to 1970s soul. You hear it in instruments like flutes and synths. It all makes for an unhurried groove and a pretty neo-soul record. I can see listening to this on a frosty Sunday morning or pairing it with a nice cozy dinner at home.
R.E.M.- Green
Okay, hear me out. I know this series is all about underrated records—or albums that might’ve flown under your radar. Green is not that. I’m also aware of the irony in choosing a record titled Green for a series on fall records. But perhaps more than any other here, this reminds me of autumn. That’s influenced in large part by the fact that I first heard this at the beginning of the school year. I was also lucky enough to see them in concert while they were on the road supporting this record. That show was in… October.
I’m the kind of listener who is long on association. There’s simply no way my brain can be rewired to tie this to the dog days of summer. Not to oversell it, but I really only listen to it in the fall and winter. By contrast, I regard Out of Time as a “summer record.” Even the pop brilliance of Pop Song ’89 takes me right back to those gray, rainy days and claustrophobic halls of junior high, where headphones were as much about body armor as they were about listening to music.
With its mandolin, You Are the Everything just feels like a fall evening.
Another (possible) hot take: Get Up is fantastic. I know it sets some listeners’ hair on fire, and the lyrics are… okay. But that rhythm? I’ll take all of that, you got! Turn You Inside Out is my vote for “R.E.M. song that should’ve been bigger.” It’s one fans know & love, but not a whole lot of casual listeners are familiar with. If that’s you, please check it out ASAP. The closest analog I can think of (it’s still early) is Push by The Cure.
Michael Stipe would spend a lot of the late ’80s and early ’90s in the political arena, and World Leader Pretend is one of the first times he writes an overtly political track—or at least one that unveils some of his political leanings. And hey, we have elections in the fall, right?
Orange Crush is about Agent Orange, which was used in Vietnam—a war we just happened to learn about in the fall of that same school year. It was all very timely, you see.
My on-ramp to the band was a 1-2 punch of Green and Eponymous. Some people say that it’s the band’s first bad record, but I’d argue the other way. I think it holds up well (yes, even Stand). I rate Green—and even Eponymous—higher than someone who came to the band earlier might. That raises some hackles every time it comes up, but I stand by it. I might be convinced to listen to this in the dog days of summer, but I’ll never be convinced that this is a poor studio outing for the group.
Sam’s pick and my take: Julia Holter- Have You In My Wilderness
Julia Holter’s fourth studio album is packaged with a distinctly sunlit, atmospheric sound, drawing clear inspiration from 1970s SoCal. The production evokes early mornings when the marine layer hasn’t quite yet lifted. It’s a backdrop well-suited to Holter’s strengths: carefully crafted songwriting and a precise sense of arrangement.
One of the record’s more striking qualities is its accessibility. Melodies are open and inviting, and the sounds are layered without ever feeling dense.
If there’s a fault here, it’s that, for as sunny and accessible as this record is, Holter occasionally overindexes on the ethereal. It’s almost as if that same marine layer will obscure her completely. That said, the storytelling is nothing if not vivid. Who else is going to work the line “sharp and high on the Balearic Promontory” into a song? A song about being seduced and then left to die on an island, by the way.
Like those early, misty mornings, this can be hard to get on the first listen, but once that burns off and the sky is clear and a million, you’re in for a treat.
Cleaners From Venus- Midnight Cleaners
This is lo-fi before any of us knew what lo-fi meant. Originally only available on tape, it was later reissued on CD and vinyl. I have a copy of the latter, and while it’s remastered and sounds great, many of the rougher qualities are still there—I hope that was by design, because in my opinion it’s a feature, not a bug.
Midnight Cleaners is at its strongest on more structured songs, like the fantastic “Only a Shadow.” The guitar is particularly sweet, and it’s something that wouldn’t be out of place on your favorite Smiths record. “Only a Shadow” also stands out because it uses real drums. I doubt anyone involved would have labeled this “lo-fi” at the time, but looking at it now, it’s tough to define it any other way. There are lots of easy GBV comparisons to make, though I can’t see Robert Pollard throwing a big block of sax on one of his records. What I can picture is this album being made in a drafty upstairs room or attic or a crisp fall evening. That aesthetic permeates the record. It too is a feature, not a bug.
Cassette recordings were never exactly high fidelity, and more than anything else, this feels like an album purpose-built for tape.
Sam’s pick and my take: Grouper-Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill
Ok, so my brain is clearly cooked from being terminally online, but this title had me thinking I was about to get into some sort of Swedish death metal. The closest this comes to connecting those dots is my saying that at first blush this feels like a witchy version of Cocteau Twins (not derogatory). Dragging is a record-long trip into dream pop and delicate vocals. Things get a bit gauzy, but never tip over into being too obscured to listen to. In other words, right up my alley. As for a fall record, the sounds certainly evoke this time of year, and a bunch of titles reference things like water and sleep, which aren’t exactly reminiscent of, say, July.
That’s a wrap! What are your thoughts on these records? Do you own any of them? Share your thoughts in the comments! Rants, raves, and spicy takes are all welcome. And if you have any ideas on future themes, please share those as well! Don’t forget to check out Sam’s thoughts over at This Is a Newsletter!
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.
As always, thank you to those who upgraded their subscriptions this past week. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts also help! Thank you!
When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:
For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing.
The playlist below is some of what I’ve had in heavy rotation. This week, we again overindex new tracks, with a couple of old faves balancing things out. We start with community fave Water From Your Eyes before kicking into high gear with a 1-2 punch of Bob Mould & Die Spitz. From there, we’ve got the latest from our friend,
The Ririverse, and we end Side 1 with the latest from a longtime DC area band.
Side two kicks off with a track from a record I once deemed the #4 record of all time, before taking a trip to Pittsburgh to hear some Gaadge. I’m not on Threads anymore, but before I left, I was lucky to meet a couple of you and find Palm Ghosts. Their latest is here. Here’s to silver linings.
I know I keep saying it, but it’s true: 2025 might be a hot mess, but not when it comes to new music.
Note: Last night I had the pleasure of seeing Garrett Graff speak. Graff is the author of several books, including The Only Plane in the Sky, a harrowing recount of 9/11 as told by those who were there. Below is mine. I originally wrote this to mark the 20th anniversary of that day. I’d like to think my writing style has changed a bit in the years since. My feelings about 9/11 have not. Thanks for letting me share this. We’ll be back to our regularly scheduled programming tomorrow.
September 11th was the day the evil came to the United States. It was the day that evil came to most people’s lives.
They didn’t think it existed. They came and it exists. And it was in our backyard.
~Mary Galligan, former head of FBI’s PENTTBOM team
It’s hard to believe that over 20 years have passed since that day. The actual events were over fairly quickly-just a few hours, really. But 9/11 was an inflection point for this country, and in a lot of ways it still hasn’t ended.
Aviation today is almost unrecognizable — if you’re old enough that 9/11 was a lived event, you’re old enough to remember not having to take off your shoes, and having friends meet you at the gate.
Another good way to “tell someone your age without telling them your age” is to have a plane fly overhead at low altitude. Anyone who was around that day will still reflexively look up.
Memories can be quirky. Quiz me about last week, and I’d be hard-pressed to answer. Ask me about 9/11, and I can tell you almost anything with amazing clarity. Not just the obvious parts, but much smaller details:
What the weather was like.
The sounds (or lack thereof).
How calm my commute to the airport was — I followed a white car over the Glenn Jackson bridge.
Snippets of conversations.
The tinny voice coming out of the AM dial in my work truck as I “guarded” grounded aircraft.
I’ve tried to write this story multiple times — the funny thing about 9/11 is that everyone wants to share “their” story — but I keep getting tripped up. It’s hard to do justice to something so profound, yet something we each experienced in our own unique way.
I hope that sentence reads better than I think it does.
The aviation community is extremely fraternal. Maybe second only to law enforcement. Everyone “knows a guy” at this carrier or that station. It may not have been our our paint on those 4 planes, but in an abstract way it still us, you know?
I was that kid who used to look up and stare at planes flying overhead. In a lot of ways, I still am. To realize that these machines had been turned into weapons of mass destruction was devastating. To wonder what those last minutes were like is more than I can bear.
Flights departing the East Coast were already in the air when the FAA decided to ground all air traffic. Those flights were diverted to the nearest available concrete. Flights inbound from Asia and Europe overwhelmed Canadian airports on both ends of the country.
Where I spent 9/11/2001. Photo: Airliners.Net/Chris Coduto
Flights on the West Coast, where I was, had for the most part never left. Gates are usually full overnight, but rarely at midday. Yet there all the planes were, still tucked in from the night before.
The airport looked as if it had just overslept.
We had five planes on the ground. I was initially tasked with “guarding” one. Against what, I didn’t know. I also wasn’t armed or trained — before 9/11, the protocol was to accommodate a suspect’s demands as best you could — so I spent most of the day sitting on the hood of our station’s truck, smoking and listening to the radio. What else was I gonna do? I’ve since come to think this assignment was borne more out of a need to feel like we were doing something than anything else.
The people I worked with did not do helpless well.
As the afternoon moved into evening, we decided that playing sentry was pointless and regrouped to watch TV in our break room. We had a TV strapped to a cart like schools used to. Reception was dodgy, and developments came sporadically.
Meanwhile, our teletype printer never stopped. Looking back, I wish I would’ve saved some of those messages, but the paper fades after a few years, so it wouldn’t have done much good. Everything is ephemeral.
And everything with 9/11 is like a paradox. Recounting the day can be paralytic, and yet the words flow easily. I never really talk that much about 9/11, yet find myself writing too much, going off in every direction lest I dishonor the story by leaving some small part out.
The beautiful weather didn’t match the hellish events.
Airports were quiet.
Traffic calm.
Being high on adrenaline and drained all at once.
A few weeks ago, my state’s newspaper called for submissions. Readers were asked to send in their memories. Posts were to be capped at 250 words. At first, those guardrails seemed like a constraint. In the end, they were freeing.
I did what I could. I think I managed okay. The words below are my submission. This is my story.
I work for an airline. In 2001, I was a new crew chief working the night shift in Portland, Oregon. I was sleeping when our phone started ringing off the hook. Our friends back east were already seeing the horror show unfold. They woke us up just in time to watch the second plane hit, and our lives forever changed.
I was called into work early that day to “guard” our planes; an absurd request, given that none of us were armed, and our training at the time was to accommodate the demands of any threat (much like the flight crews on that day). All of that would change shortly.
In the meantime, I spent most of Tuesday, September 11th, 2001, sitting on the hood of our station’s 20-year-old truck listening to ABC News on AM radio.
People will tell you that it was beautiful that day, and it was. It was sunny in NYC and clear and a million on the West Coast. It was quiet, too; no noise on an airfield is both rare and disconcerting.
Late that night, we were still glued to our break room TV. The graveyard supervisor came in and wondered why we weren’t working. He’d left his previous shift in an ordinary world, slept all day, and returned that night to one that was now unrecognizable to any of us.
One guy wordlessly pointed at the TV. He took a seat and watched with us all.
Wherever the day finds you, I hope the weather is as beautiful as it was that Tuesday morning in 2001.
And please spare a second for the flight crews who fought so valiantly for us before we knew anything was wrong.
We’ve got a great host and a killer record, all set to go. All we need now is you! Here’s how to join the fun.
Cover art courtesy of IRS Records
Good Morning!
Today we’re talking about The English Beat’s Special beat Service, and well, how you can talk about the band with other like minded people.
Note: As some of you know, I’m one of the editors for an online music publication called The Riff. Each month, we host an album discussion (via Zoom), which is coming up on Sunday.
To be clear, all credit goes to Terry Barr and Scott Fountain, who facilitate the meetings, and Jessica Lee McMillan, this month’s host. These three are doing the heavy lifting.
As you’ll see below, these are low-key affairs; all are welcome! If you want to share some thoughts, that’s awesome. Wanna just sit back & listen? That’s cool, too.
Either way, it’d be better with you there.
KA—
It’s that time again; it’s time for our monthly album discussion!
One of our core tenets is sharing music. That obviously involves writing about it, but also talking about it together. We do that monthly here.
This Sunday, August 24th, is that day.
Below is my boilerplate explanation of these discussions and the value you’ll get from joining us. Under that are both the record being discussed and the meeting login details.
Don’t know the record? Doesn’t matter.
Not comfortable speaking in public? Me either. And you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Heck, you don’t even have to turn your camera on. It’s a safe space, but you control what you share.
Ultimately, you’re part of the community; we want you to be a part of this, too.
So check out the “rules” below, and then plan to dial in.
What is this?
For new readers (hi everyone!), we host an online discussion every month.
Here’s how it works:
A writer (more on that in a second) picks a record to discuss and writes a brief piece about their choice and the meeting details.
At the meeting, they discuss why they picked it, offer a bit of a backstory/context, and whatever else they’d like to share.
Everyone else on the call can share their own “hot take,” related story, or anything else you think is relevant.
At the end of the meeting, the next month’s writer volunteers (or is chosen), and the process repeats itself.
NOTE FOR INTROVERTS: If you’d prefer to sit in and listen, that is 110% okay. Keep your video off…stay muted…it’s up to you. It’s a safe place; you can participate as much/as little as you’d like.
This month’s host:
This month’s host is Jessica Lee McMillan, a poet, writer, and teacher based in Vancouver, B.C. Her work has been featured in dozens of publications. You can see more of her writing here or on her website.
Cool! So, what are we talking about?
Jessica has chosen ‘Special Beat Service’ by The English Beat..
I am still grateful for the third wave, which brought The Specials back into rotation at clubs. I was only a few years old when the Beat emerged, and I had records and cassettes of General Public and Fine Young Cannibals. But I have to thank that third wave for making its way into the goth community here in Vancouver, where — of all places — I first learned to skank to Madness in my late teens.
Musical influences can travel anywhere — like language — and while we want to respect its origins, genre — like language — is a living thing that evolves and migrates.
Special Beat Service is the album you intentionally pull out several times a year. It is a rock. It is a place to return.
That’s why I have chosen it for the album of the month.
Musical adventure, exploring new sounds, and sharing great music with great people make these discussions a joy.
Join us and see for yourself.
Listen:
The Beat | Special Beat Service (1982)
(Click the record to listen on your platform of choice)
Kevin Sent 
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