The longest-running parlor game for music fans might be arguing about which era of Van Halen is the best.
A close second: what song defines your generation?
The answers are almost always a tell: Boomers might point to The Beatles, The Stones, or Dylan. Gen X often lands on something like “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” Millennials, Gen Z, and Gen Alpha…well, the answer gets fuzzier. That’s probably also a tell. (Spoiler: I’m old.)
Writing for NPR recently, Hazel Cills flipped the question a little, asking instead: Can an entire generation be defined by one song?
To me, a definitive millennial song can’t just be a song that failed to reach listeners beyond my specific generation (those born between the years of 1981 to 1996, to pick one of the possible date ranges demarcating the cohort). It also can’t simply be a hit that was popular with a huge swath of millennials. For a song to be definitively millennial, it also has to speak to the millennial identity. Millennials have been saddled with many of those simplistic stereotypes listed above, but also a lot of harsh realities….The music culture that defined our coming of age, from the early 2000s to the mid-2010s, went through its own massive disruptions that influenced not just listeners but also artists: the rise of illegal downloading and the streaming culture that came after, social media platforms like Youtube and Myspace that birthed a new generation of stars, the invention of MP3 players like the iPod and the explosion of festival culture. Millennial music, regardless of genre, embodies the collision of these realities.
One can make the same case with supporting arguments for whichever cohort you choose, and while I have my own ideas on what “Has” to be the song of my people, I don’t know if an entire generation can be distilled down to one track. It’s a fun exercise, and for GenX there’s certainly no shortage of 5-star candidates, but it also encompasses a group born between 1965 and 1980. Can you paint an entire generation with a broad brush? Probably not, but it doesn’t stop us from trying.
Still, it’s a fun exercise—and maybe that’s the point. While we’ll likely never reach a consensus or land on a definitive answer, the conversation itself tells us something about how we hear music and how we see ourselves.
It will not surprise you to read that this playlist is extremely Gen X-coded, with tracks from Sonic Youth, Luscious Jackson, and more. There’s also a nod to older cohorts with George Harrison and Lindsey Buckingham in the mix, and of course a ton of brand new tracks from the likes of The Maureens, Van Chamberlain and Long Relief.
Side A is tracks 1-14 (ends with “Greensburg”). Side B is tracks 15-27.
Other sources: Apple | Qobuz | YouTube Music | Note: Both YT & Qobuz are missing a couple of tracks this week.
Now it’s your turn.
Any new releases or shows you’re looking forward to? Whatcha got? Share your thoughts in the comments!
Happy Memorial Day to everyone here in the US, and happy Monday to our international friends! Whether, you’re home today or just kicking off your work week, I hope you’ve had a chance to rest easy and spin some great records. If you’re in the latter camp, maybe this’ll make the commute just a bit more enjoyable?
I shared this anecdote in the chat over the weekend, but wanted to share it again with the group as a whole.
A few weeks ago, Gabbie, who writes the fantastic New Music For Old heads, asked readers to name the last band or record they found without the internet. It’s one of those fun questions that seems easy at first, but before you know it, you have a page full of crossed-out options and are wracking your brain. For better or worse, these days we find stuff online.
Obviously, it’s fun to find cool records through cool people (cough cough), but it seems wild to me that what was once a pretty straightforward question is now anything but.
And if you’ll allow me to share, I now have a pretty rad answer…sort of. I received a music submission via email from a local act. That in itself is not unusual (and yeah, email counts as internet), but then my kid asked me if the artist had been in touch. This is absolutely not normal. Turns out he had a makeup exam last week, and one of the musicians was the proctor. Once everything was completed and turned in, they were talking, and his music label came up, which led my son to mention this place, and everything came full circle. Not entirely analog, but still pretty cool (to me, anyway), so I’m counting it.
That duo is here (dargan hester), as is one of my fave shoegaze bands, Cheatahs. I found them via terrestrial radio (thank you, WSUM!), and they’ve never really left my rotation since. Squeeze showed up via the early days of MTV.
It’s not the record featured here, but one of my greatest analog finds was when a friend passed me a copy of Talking Heads’ Stop Making Sense while on a field trip. It’s not hyperbolic to say that moment changed the trajectory of my music diet forever.
What’s the last record you discovered without going online? Share your story!
KA—
P.S. Speaking of radio, when you’re done here, make sure to check out the final lap of Inhailer Radio’s Indie 500!
Side A is tracks 1-19 (ends with “Narco Polo”). Side B is tracks 20-39.
Note: May 18th is a big day both in music history and for anyone who lived in the PNW in 1980. I first ran this piece when there were about 6 of us here (and 3 of them lived with me), and it’s become an annual tradition.
We don’t have many musical traditions in my family. On Thanksgiving, my wife & kids have to endure “Alice’s Restaurant” at least once (or rather, my attempts to sing it). Sometime in the next few weeks after that, Otis Redding’s version of “Merry Christmas Baby” gets a spin, and that’s about it for the year…with one exception.
Growing up, we hardly had any traditions- musical or not. In fact, about the only time I can remember us doing anything even remotely collective had to do with this song. This started in 1980, in the lead-up to Mt. St. Helens’ eruption, when the song was played as a bit of gallows humor. Anytime it played, we’d all just sort of start singing along. No other song before or since can make that claim.
If you can’t control something, you might as well sing about it, right?
P.S. Since this first ran, my mom moved. I’m not sure the Sanka can came with her, but I’d like to think it’s still in a box waiting to be unpacked.
KA—
Living under a looming threat and widespread mask use was a new phenomenon for most of us. But for those of a certain age living in the Pacific Northwest, it evoked memories of 1980.
Living in the shadows of the Cascade Mountains, it’s easy to forget that it’s a volcanic range. Easy, that is, until Mother Nature reminds you.
And so it was in late 1979/early 1980 with Mt. St. Helens.
At first, the eruptions were nominal enough; some steam here, a small landslide there. Later as they grew in scale, ash began to rain down on downwind communities, and painter masks became de rigueur fashion.
This culminated with a cataclysmic eruption on May 18th, 1980, which permanently changed people’s lives — and left the landscape unrecognizable.
On that day, just five words let the world know it was about to be changed forever. Volcanologist David Johnston had been camped on the mountain’s flank to monitor the increasingly dangerous situation.
The morning of May 18th, in a radio call to the USGS office, he announced the eruption to the world, his last words being, “Vancouver! Vancouver! This is it!
Buffett had a different mountain in mind when he wrote “Volcano.” He was talking about the Soufriere Hills volcano on the Caribbean Island of Montserrat.
But radio stations in places like Portland, Oregon, and Spokane, Washington, put it in their rotation as a part of a gallows humor approach to the impending disaster everyone knew was coming but didn’t know when — the calypso style offering a sunny contrast to the (literally) gray pall cast over the area.
Four decades on, the song remains a staple at Buffett performances—and in my house on every May 18th.
If you have friends who grew up in Oregon or Washington, don’t be surprised if pictures of Johnston are on their timelines today.
And for many of those same people, a coffee can full of volcanic ash remains on a shelf in their garage as a souvenir — a reminder of when life got sketchy, and nothing was left to do but sing about it.
Besides Jimmy and Joy Division, this week’s list has new tracks from Dan Pritchard, The Mountain Goats, and Kurt Vile. We’ve also got the usual sonic comfort food/deep cuts from GBV, XTC, and more.
Side A is tracks 1-15 (ends with Wilco). Side B is tracks 16-31.
The 2-lane highway from Portland’s western suburbs to the Oregon Coast was exactly 72 miles.
It usually took about an hour and a half. It was a little faster if traffic was light and we were in a fast car. Or a little longer if we were in my friend Matt’s VW bus. It never bothered us, though.
It’s hard to be in a hurry when the sun’s out and you’re with your friends.
No one ever felt the need to check their watch while moseying through the Coast Range listening to Bob Marley.
At this point, Marley’s “Legend” compilation record is the default reggae record. Even if you can’t name a single other title or artist, you invariably at least know this one. Released posthumously, it’s the best-selling reggae record of all time, racking up millions of copies sold as of this writing. At least a dozen of those sales were from us.
Is there any other record so closely associated with it’s genre?
Most of us wound up going deeper into Marley’s discography, but like so many others, “Legend” was our on-ramp to his music. There we’d be, singing, “Every little thing’s gonna be all right,” while the bus wheezed and gasped, struggling to carry us over the hills. We sang “get up stand up” and would wind up doing just that through the years. The Bush family derisively referred to Portland as “Little Beirut.” We wore it as a badge of honor.
But over on the left side of the map, those concerns were a million miles away- our only worries being gas money and hitting spots like Indian Beach.
Today, we remember Marley on the 45th anniversary of his passing.
Four decades plus is a long time to have been gone from this life, yet Marley’s music & vision resonate now more than ever.
If we want every little thing to be all right, we need to get up and stand up.
This week’s list has factory fresh tracks from BODEGA, Nightbus, Onesie, and Taxi Girls, and well as the usual sonic comfort food and deep cuts.
Side A is tracks 1-14 (ends with “The Barbeque Party”). Side B is tracks 15-27.
One of my mom’s favorite stories to tell is about the time she managed to grab some Star Wars action figures for me as a kid. This was at the peak of the (first) movie’s fame, and to hear her tell it, it was something like emerging victorious from a great battle. The reality is that she worked at a clothing store, and her boss let her bail a little early so she could walk down to a nearby toy store. I was never the biggest Star Wars fan (please don’t @ me), but I like this version. It’s early in the AM as I type this, but I can’t remember anything so consuming us collectively in recent years.
Every year, I snort at the Dave Brubeck memes and tell myself I should put on one of his records….and every year, I’m reminded I don’t actually own any. Why my mind thinks I do, I don’t know. Maybe next year?
So, May 4th is a day for Star Wars (and Dave Brubeck!) memes, but it is also Sluttering Day—half celebration, half inside joke enjoyed by Jawbreaker fans the world over. I will definitely be putting on one of their records today. Of course, that happens most days, but that wasn’t always the case with Dear You. Depending on where you were when it came out, most people were consumed with the idea that they’d sold out. I’m as guilty as anyone, but tbh, that was our loss. That record is fantastic.
No Cantina Theme, Jawbreaker, or Brubeck on this list. But we do have the latest from TV Star, Dari Bay, Me at the Zoo, The Level, and Weird Nightmare (among others), as well as a good dose of the usual sonic comfort food.
Whichever one you’re celebrating today, I hope it’s filled with some killer sounds!
This week, Side A is tracks 1-16 (ends with “Lately”). Side B is tracks 17-31.
You’d be hard-pressed to miss the trend back toward friction. For some, it’s fueled by a nostalgia for a simpler time. For others, it’s pushback against a digital world constantly asking more and more of them. Whatever it is, dumbphones are high in demand. Vinyl is still enjoying a resurgence. Parties where people leave their phones at the door are a thing (we used to just call these “parties” or “functions”). Do they listen to music at these? If not, they should. Listening to cool music with cool people is where it’s at.
A lifetime ago, the airline I worked for did its own cabin cleaning. There are few things that will make you lose faith in humanity faster than this work. There are also few things that make it more bearable than listening to music. We used to do this by taking the interphone, jury-rigging it to stay on (as if someone was talking), and then sticking it in front of a boom box. The radio was usually powered by an extension cord run out from the jet bridge’s cab. In other words, a lot of friction. But also very much worth it.
Why am I telling you this? Well, all those years ago, I lucked into working with some of the coolest guys going. And they liked John Hiatt, which meant we listened to him a lot (and JJ Cale, etc). At the time, they all seemed so old, but really were only about as old as I am now. Most of them have long retired and moved to places like Arizona. I was hoping to be there this coming weekend for a wedding and thought it might be a good idea to look a few up, get caught up, and commiserate about the old days. The universe had other plans, so that’ll have to be some other time.
In the meantime, we’ve got one of the most played Hiatt tracks from those days, no interphone required.
We’ve also got brand new stuff from Doug Gillard, Afghan Whigs, Future Islands, and our pals Brian K. and the Parkway. There’s also some sonic comfort food in the form of Jawbreaker, Push Stars, and GBV.
This week, Side A is tracks 1-14 (ends with “I’ve Got My Mind Set On You”). Side B is tracks 15-29.
My usual record store is on the other side of town from me. That’s just enough friction to prevent me from going bankrupt, but not enough to keep me away for more than a week or two at a time.
I’ve mentioned it before, but there is another, smaller, store right by me though — as in close enough to walk to. The only thing I have going for me is that it specializes in metal-a genre I’m not too interested in — and operates on irregular hours. This is truly a passion project, and the owner works in running the store when he can.
Like many shops, he’s taken to social media to tout new arrivals into the store. Most of the time I don’t recognize the covers and can’t read the script on the covers (what is it with metal bands all using the same unreadable font?).
This time was different. Over the past week there was a drip campaign (or whatever they’re called) about RSD— except he was pointing out that they’d only have a couple of RSD records…but also why not come in and grab some other metal/punk/whatever?
The store itself used to be a hole in the wall- literally. it occupied the space between two buildings, with a ~300 sq ft. room on one side towards the back. It was tiny, and fantastic.
And honestly, it still is. They’ve moved into one of the actual spots out front, but the place can still get packed, with everyone digging through different racks. With close quarters like this, you can’t really stand back to back, and instead have to stand just off to the side and reach over. Anywhere else, and I’d declare it too people-y and bail. But I’ve always rooted for this store, and so seeing it full makes me smile. And the line can get long too. That’s partly down to the owner chatting with everyone about what they’re picking up. A 4-5 minute chat about forgotten Dischord bands and Midwest tours? That’s not something you’re gonna get on Amazon. At Safeway this would be obnoxious. Here, it’s part of the appeal.
I almost always go 0-for-everything when it comes to what I walked in looking for. But this is a record store, a place full of things you don’t know you need until you come across them. Sometimes that’s vinyl. Sometimes it’s a chat about shows that happened years ago.
###
This week’s list over indexes on old favorites, but we’ve also got new stuff from Wire (from RSD), Memorials, Kurt Vile, Rural France, Caroline in the Garden, and Maybe So.
This week, Side A is tracks 1-16 (ends with “Roadrunner”). Side B is tracks 17-31.
I don’t watch a lot of TV series, but when I find something I like, I’m all in. Very few shows get to this rarefied air for me- mostly because I have the attention span of a fruit fly. To get me to sit down and stare at a screen (without scrolling) for an hour? Are you kidding me? The Americans did it for me. Mad Men before that. More recently, I’ve gone all in on The Pitt. The first season felt like one long car crash (which it kind of was; it takes place in an ER). This time around is a slow burn and more focused on the staff themselves. All have their flaws, and there’s a hierarchy of angels and villains coming clearer into view with each episode. So yeah, Santos can still F off, but my point here is that somehow, despite the nonstop firehose of chaos, they keep finding a way to push through. There’s a real resilience to these people, and given what’s happening today (waves have literally everything), there’s a lesson in there.
Sometimes the indignities are on a grand scale. sometimes, a smaller one, like a shitty commute. When I was a union rep, we’d often crib a phrase from an earlier era: “one day longer.” It was shorthand for “nothing good comes easy or quickly. You’ve just got to outlast your opponent. A better tomorrow is just over the horizon.”
There’s a lesson in that, too. And while no one can fix the bigger problems alone, we can at least make your morning commute a little bit better.
This week, we’ve got new stuff from Arlo Parks, Prism Shores, Paul Bergmann, Girl Scout, and Parlor Greens, along with a good dose of old favorites like Roxy Music, That Dog, and Velocity Girl. My abiding hope is that someday people will come around to Copacetic. One day…
This week, Side A is tracks 1-15 (ends with “Same Kids”). Side B is tracks 16-27.
Today Jason Kolenda’s got the keys to the truck and will be sharing his thoughts on Opeth’s Blackwater Park as it takes on Spoon’s Girls Can Tell.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
That death metal isn’t in my wheelhouse should not surprise anyone reading this. It’s a genre that’s never lacked for skill or talent, but I’ve just never found a way in. What I am into is hearing people’s backstories around records. What is it about any given release that resonates? What was so sticky that years later you can’t describe the album without superlatives (or utter contempt)? Where were you at (literally & figuratively both)? What was the on-ramp?
These are parts of larger discussions I could have all day- and as we go on through this year, I hope to have that become a sort of theme here. They’re important, and they matter. Sometimes it really is as easy as learning why New Order is someone’s favorite band, but zooming out, I think it helps us better understand the people we’re talking with, and in 2026, lord knows we could use all of that ya got!
So! We’ve got us a death metal album (a genre I don’t know much about), from a year that was a musical desert for me. Earlier this week, we looked at Converge’s Jane Doe, and I couldn’t finish the record, let alone find anything redeeming to say about it.
I didn’t want to do that again. One, it makes for a shitty read, and two, it’s kinda cheap. Like Converge, I kept seeing people online talking about this album in glowing terms. To hear them tell it. This is a landmark release…Changed the game forever…etc.
And I did want to hear them tell it—or rather hear one person tell it; Jason Kolenda. Some context: I run/edit an online publication on another platform, and Jason is a longtime writer. He’s also one of the resident experts on metal- and all of its subgenres- and more than once, his work has been a helpful resource in bringing into relief the appeal of death metal.
The words below the jump are all his, and appeared as part of a larger (much larger!) series. Whether you’re a long-time aficionado looking for a kindred spirit or someone like me looking for a way in, Jason’s writing should be one of your first stops. It definitely helped me see this record in a positive light.
KA—
Opeth- Blackwater Park
How am I to begin talking about this behemoth of an album? Even though it’s not #1, it’s by far the most transformative album in my collection. This album changed my life forever. That may sound like an exaggeration, but it isn’t.
Before I knew about this album, music was just a casual interest for me, like the average person — nothing wrong with that, of course. I liked a few bands, bought a few CDs once in a while, mostly radio hits and occasionally a suggestion from a friend, and that was that.
But my discovery of Opeth led to extreme metal as a whole, turning music into a lifelong obsession for me. From that point on, it was a hardcore hobby that I spent countless hours on — discovering new artists, albums, genres, making tables and graphs, and writing about them. It turned me into a music nerd. There’s no going back, and I would not want to anyway.
This obsession was far from instantaneous, however.
I never thought about the term “death metal” before discovering Opeth. I wasn’t interested in it and didn’t think much of it. But this album taught me that metal could be a lot of things I didn’t realize before. It could be interesting, complex, thought-provoking, and even mature. Despite sounding instantly off-putting to many, creating something worthwhile could still take tremendous talent. Hell, it could even be beautiful. It wasn’t just for angry, rebellious teenagers.
My Opeth introduction story is probably quite unusual. I had an online friend I used to chat with about music. There was no YouTube or streaming in those days, so we actually sent each other MP3 files that we had downloaded through a chat room. He sent me “Patterns in the Ivy,” a 2-minute acoustic interlude on this album. He proceeded to tell me that this is a death metal band, a term I was barely familiar with. I thought, ok, that’s cool, I like what I hear. I listened to this song a few times and then decided to check out more. I don’t remember what I heard next -it’s possible I just outright bought the album.
I did not enjoy the death growls at first. It took me several months to get accustomed to them. But I did like the heavy moments with clean vocals, as well as acoustic and instrumental sections. At first, I couldn’t stand the death growls and reacted like most average music listeners would—instantly repelled. For a while after that, I just tolerated them, really appreciating everything else this album had to offer. Slowly, though, I started to actually enjoy them.
For as long as it took me to appreciate the harsh vocals, Opeth was one of the best bands I could ask for to introduce me to this style of music. Fast forward to today, and I still think Mikael Åkerfeldt is the best metal vocalist out there. His growls are just monstrous, in the best possible way. His powerful, clean vocals have a hardy, roughness but exquisite richness. He can also serenade the listener with a delicate softness when necessary.
Blackwater Park is a record full of contrasting juxtapositions, both within individual songs and adjacent tracks. “Dirge for November” may be the most obvious instance of this — the meat of the song being one of the heaviest moments on the album, bookended by ultra-delicate plucking and singing on either side. “Patterns In the Ivy” — my unusual introduction to this album — is a 2-minute acoustic interlude sandwiched between two behemoth songs. And then there’s “Harvest,” a remarkable acoustic ballad in its own right. Opeth is pretty good about providing “breathers” at just the right time, before the listener gets too exhausted, and to give time to process long, complex tracks.
The musical contrasts may be my favorite thing about the band, not to mention one of my favorite things in music. But this album also has some of the best riffs in the metal world. “The Funeral Portrait” is probably my favorite, but examples can be found everywhere. Also, Steven Wilson’s production of this record results in a highly polished production, another attribute that would continue to define Opeth’s career.
When I discovered this, I wasn’t used to progressive music at all, other than maybe some Tool songs. The sudden, or sometimes gradual, changes in song structure and the length of songs were another new thing for me to adjust to. Looking back, it’s unsurprising that this took so long to grow on me. It was several orders of magnitude more complex and sophisticated than the Smashing Pumpkins and Foo Fighters that I was used to.
I have often contemplated whether this album should be #1 after all. Going back through my records, I don’t think it has ever been #1 and has been as low as #6. At this point, it’s still #2, although I’m constantly changing the numbers around.
Spoon- Girls Can Tell
What can I say about Spoon that I haven’t already? As far out of my wheelhouse as Opeth is, Spoon is in it. Not a whole lotta boxes they don’t check for me.
Ranking the records is an exercise in futility. A fun exercise, but still… really, the only consensus is that the first one is the worst one (Telephono), and even that’s relative. From there, it gets really subjective. Maybe you got Gimme Fiction at #3, and I’ve got it at #5 (or vice versa). It’s all a game of inches!
I won’t bury the lede here; I’d put Girls Can Tell at 4 or 5. It’s a solid record. There’s no easy pick for standout tracks; it’s a much more subdued record where the tracks slowly grow on you. They all sound “pretty good!” out of the gate, and before you know it, you’re spilling ink on the record and struggling to pick just one as a fave. That’s just how they roll.
But in the Spoon canon, this is a critically important record. It’s the first sign of what was to come. They’d caught a bunch of bad breaks with A Series of Snakes, took a couple of years to rework it all, and came out the other side with a new sound and a new mindset. I once read an interview (and I apologize for not being able to find it/link to it) where they noted that each member brought in new material, and the others had to guess which song it was based on. Sounds derivative, but if anything, this marks where they went from followers to setting the bar.
Intentional or not, it’s a lot less derivative than earlier records leaned toward; there’s a noirish (?) feel to it all. Britt Daniels purchased his ticket for the emotive/evocative train. Musically, there’s grooves for days. A & R reps might not’ve heard a single, but it didn’t matter. Reinvention. Pivot. Whatever. This marks the moment when Spoon went from a band lost in the mix among countless others to one of the most consistently fantastic bands going.
Bottom Line: First, thank you again to Jason for his take! This was a record I could’ve easily dismissed. Hearing a new perspective gave me a whole new appreciation for it. Still not my bag, but I get why it’s so important to so many. I can’t see a scenario where Opeth pulls off an upset and moves on to Round 2, but stranger things have happened! After today, I wouldn’t be bummed to see it.
It’s overdriven pop vs. minimalist country as Ash takes on Gillian Welch
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challenge and noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Ash – Free All Angels
Coming into Free All Angels, I expected a blast of guitars and that familiar late‑90s angsty….or something like 3 Doors Down. Honestly, I had no idea what I was in for (I know! I know!). What I didn’t expect at all was how bright and melodic this record sounds. Ash lean hard into pop hooks and glossy production, and it suits them nicely. Open “Walking Barefoot” bounces with energy, driven by big choruses and a reckless sense of fun. The band shifts from power‑pop charm to radio-friendly and back again, without losing its edge. The vocals are gritty, but the melodies push the songs toward the sunny side of the road, not garage rock.
What stands out most is how clean the songwriting feels. Every track swings for immediacy; nothing drags or hides behind fuzz. It’s all overdrive, man. Even when the themes turn darker, the delivery keeps the songs moving with a lift in tone. By the time “Shining Light” and “Burn Baby Burn” hit, it feels like Ash translating youthful frustration into something almost joyous.
This album captures a band embracing melody without apology. I don’t know what Ash was chasing with Free All Angels, but they found it in sing‑along choruses and unguarded optimism. It’s brash, catchy, and a bit sentimental. All the things! It reminds me of someone fondly looking back at a summer stay at the beach.
Gillian Welch- Time (the Revelator)
In the run-up to the bracket kicking off, this came up as a record people should check out ahead of time. There’s usually a lot of those, of course — everyone’s fighting their corner and wants their pet picks to be heard. That’s half the fun! But rarely does someone else chime in and say (really, really paraphrasing here) “If you haven’t heard this record, you haven’t heard music.” I know I butchered that, but what was unmistakable was the endorsement. You gotta love it when someone goes to the mat for a record, book, whatever. So, being one of the people who had somehow made it to 50 without ever (knowingly) hearing Welch, I had to see what the fuss was.
Turns out “Gillian Welch” isn’t just Gillian. It’s her and David Rawlings — her musical and life partner. Welch takes the lead on these songs, her voice steady and unhurried, while Rawlings floats around her with a dry, golden guitar tone.
Time (The Revelator) is ten country songs about heartache, and it’s a fantastic thanks to the duo’s next-level songwriting.
A few songs in, and I would’ve bet my house that Welch was from somewhere like West Virginia — one of those places in a holler that looks to Beckley as the “big city.” Imagine my surprise to learn she’s from L.A. That’s a heck of a pastiche. But the authenticity is never in doubt. These are her and Rawlings putting their all into these songs, and it shows. These aren’t my bag, but I get why the poster said what they did. I suspect that by the time we get through all 64 of the first-round matchups, more than a couple of records will have been flung onto the “sounds of its time” heap. This won’t be one of ’em. Time isn’t holding us, time isn’t after us. Turns out, time is a revelator (and a timeless record).
Bottom Line: Both of these are solid outings. I went with Welch primarily on the endorsement I opened this post with and a little name recognition. I have a feeling this one could easily go either way.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Kevin Sent 
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