Tag: rock

The Best record of 1989: Day 9

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best record of 1989: Day 9

NWA’s Straight Outta Compton vs. Inner City’s Paradise

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at N.W.A.’s Straight Outta Compton (#8) and Inner City’s Paradise (#121)

Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each match up and posting 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.

Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.

KA—

Portland has an NBA team but no NFL or NHL teams. Most people pick one based on proximity; thus, lots of Seahawks and 49ers fans. In 1989, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think everyone was an LA Kings or Raiders fan. Those hats with their distinctive script and Starter jackets were everywhere. And it was all down to NWA. We were nowhere near South Central, but you coulda fooled me. That fashion—and this record— were inescapable.

So why was a record about the gritty life in LA so popular in suburban Portland? Good question. The easy answer is that the sound was novel, and it sounded hella good coming out of our car speakers. Looking at the record through a clinical lens, the sound was new, the flow was different from what we knew, and the beats were 10/10.

There were larger cultural forces at play, of course. There is a point where kids rebel against whatever structures are in place: school, social systems, whatever. This was also the era of white paranoia, the explosion of the prison industrial complex, and Willie Horton. Tipper Gore was peaking. Parents were freaking out, and we were here for it. A few years earlier, we’d had the satanic panic; now it was hip hop’s turn in the barrel.

On a local level, law enforcement shifted from a community policing model (the one where cops would hand out Trailblazer trading cards) to a much more militarized version. Regular uniforms were out in favor of military ones. In my part of the world, they overindexed on firepower, too. It was not unusual for them to now show up at the basketball courts with assault rifles. Again, this was suburban Portland. It was absurd, and we (rightfully) bristled against it. To have an anthem like “Fuck Tha Police” was catnip, and we all ate it up. At one point, I saw a map of Compton in someone’s locker. Like a literal paper map. I wish I were kidding.

Back to the record itself for a second:

When writing up Dr. Dre’s The Chronic I mentioned that

listening to his record through a 2024 lens isn’t easy. There’s a reason every track has an “explicit” label. The N-word is used liberally. The F-word is used like a comma. It’s snarling. It’s misogynistic. It’s…all the things, and I wouldn’t dare try to excuse, rationalize, or explain away any of it. It is what it is. Listen at your own risk…and maybe not at work.

That said, this was a record that literally everyone I knew had a copy of; the wannabe gangsters at my school, the jocks, the heads, and everyone in between. And we were listening to it on repeat. It’s been over 30 years since I’ve played this front to back, and I can remember almost every word— and I’m at that point where I spend a lot of my days looking for my glasses only to realize I’m wearing them.

Same goes in 2025 and for this record.

Straight Outta Compton is a look into a world that many of us will never see, and many others wish they could escape. Where earlier records had reflected the realities of this, like gang violence and misogyny, Straight Outta Compton glorified them.

And then there is the uncomfortable truth that this was a bot of socioeconomic voyeurism. A bit of ghetto tourism, if you will. America is very good at squirreling away its more unpleasant realities and keeping up appearances. This record ripped the lid off the reality of life in a place like Compton and put it all on display. There is, of course, some poetic license and a bit of aggrandizement in play. Was Ice Cube really gonna cook people up like gumbo? I doubt it, but the wordplay was on point).

It was all edgy and dangerous…and we could all visit that world without ever having to leave our very safe reality.

Perversely, the howls of protest from adults about the record proved the point NWA was trying to make. White America focused on how the message was delivered (profane, vulgar) and not the meaning behind the lyrics and the statements they were making. It was all a deflection of attention—a jingling of keys distracting us from the real issue. For our part, we were distracted by beats and the thrill of hearing taboo subjects being rapped about.

The members of the group eventually went their separate ways to varying degrees of success, but the marks they left were indelible. This was a statement record, a proclamation that they were here, and an indictment against any sucka who tried to say otherwise.

There’s a popular meme going around that reads “still punk AF as I…(insert something very not punk here). My contribution to the canon was that I was still punk AF as I turned down the car stereo so I could see better.

Sometimes, I wonder if there’s a hip-hop version. Was Ice Cube still gangster AF when he acted in “Are We There Yet?”? Yeah, probably.

Much like The Chronic, Straight Outta Compton upended an entire genre, carved another one out in gangster rap, and put Compton on the map.

Looking at this bracket, there are a few records that left me wondering, “How did this make the cut?!” A few others have left me wondering: How did I miss this? To be fair, The preliminary list of submissions for this bracket clocks in at just over 700 entries. Something slipping through the cracks was bound to happen.

Inner City’s Paradise is squarely in the latter category. For all of the punk and hardcore I was listening to, I was also spending a good bit of time listening to dance, techno, and house.

Before this, Kevin Saunderson’s main claim to fame was being part of the Belleville Three and being one of the originators of Detroit techno, referred to as such (as opposed to Detroit House) to distinguish it from Chicago house. I’m telling you, midwest rivalries run deep.

At any rate, Saunderson and vocalist Paris Grey teamed up, and the result is Paradise. Not to get too far into the weeds here, but Detroit techno differs from the Second City in a few ways; it’s a little more stripped down, with the instrumentation more rapid-fire and the beats more strident.

Similarly, a lot of tech records are best suited for after sunset. The association with the club is too much to overcome. Dusting off of a 12″ midday on a Sunday isn’t always the first thought that comes to mind. Paradise was one you could play. Grey’s vocals lend a brighter feel to it all (not as in disposition, as in “feels okay to play at 11 AM). There are faces on the album cover instead of a plain white or black sleeve.

Furthermore, this was a stylistic departure from the Detroit techno scene. The instrumentals are warmer. The concept of futurism is never far away in this genre, but here, that sterile vision of tomorrow comes up against things like string arrangements and warm synths. Even the drum machines take an occasional breather.

Again- another difference is that the genre is still built mainly on the 12″ single or SoundCloud download. Inner City made an entire record of techno tracks, and one I’ve found myself listening to repeatedly over the last few days.

With the benefit of hindsight, I can hear Inner City’s influence on many groups that came after them. This feels like a record that should be in the crate of any self-respecting DJ, and now, it needs to be in mine as well.

Bottom Line: That both of these records are/were influential isn’t up for debate. The ripple effects of Paradise can be felt far and wide, and no one should doubt the role Straight Outta Compton played in hip-hop culture and the larger cultural discussion. That said, I have to think name recognition will carry NWA here (I mean, it is #8 vs #121). If Inner City pulls it off, that’ll be one for the record books. And hey, my bracket’s trash anyway, so why not?

For me, the word “best” is doing a lot of work in this tourney. As I consider(ed) which way to go in a given match, I thought about the objective quality of the record (obvs), but also the aftershocks it set off, the wider ramifications in the industry, etc.

Taking all of that into consideration, it’s got to be NWA.

Vote & bracket pick: NWA’s Straight Outta Compton

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!

Check out the full bracket here.

Info on the tourney, voting, and more is here.

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

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The Best Record of 1989: Day 8

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 8

Weird Al’s UHF takes on 11 by The Smithereens

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at Weird Al Yankovic’s UHF – Original Motion Picture Soundtrack and Other Stuff (#48) as he takes on 11 by The Smithereens (#81)

Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably definitely be some typos.

Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks are always appreciated.

KA—

I want to preface this by adding a few points for context. First, writing humor is hard. Like, really hard. If you think it’s not, just try it and show your work to a couple of friends. See what happens. Anyone who can do it once is worth noting—anyone who can do it for four decades plus is nothing short of amazing.

Weird Al‘s parody songs have delighted generations of fans, and it won’t be me that says anything bad about that.

UHF (the movie) was itself a parody- a parody of all the bad TV we used to be subjected to, where the channels were still changed by hand via a clunky dial. Before there were 57 channels and nothing on. It’s a fun enough premise and the sort of film you might’ve watched on a Saturday afternoon when it was pouring with rain. Yankovic plays a schlub who gets a job running a TV station his uncle won in a card game. Michael Richards plays one of the main characters. Hijinks ensue!

My second point? I have a very low capacity for humor in music. I’ve never gotten the appeal of a novelty band like Ween, and don’t get me started on that fistful of late 90s/early 00’s groups whose whole mission was to make “Zany” a new sub-genre. That goes double for all the ska groups that tried. Christ, some of that was interminable.

There’s none of that pretense here. The value prop with Weird Al is that he’s gonna take a song you love, and tweak the lyrics just enough to make you laugh. Maybe there’ll be enough of us smirking to make it a hit. There’ll be a metric ton of puns, some wordplay, and a liberal dose of accordion—all part of the schtick, and all good things.

The UHF soundtrack is no exception. There’s a take on Dire Straits’ “Money for Nothing” that’s solid. Ditto the spoof of Fine Young Cannibals’ “She Drives Me Crazy.”

Among a few of my friends, Spatula City was an inside joke for so long that it had morphed into something unrecognizable —one of those things that would be impossible to reverse engineer.

And hey, Yankovic’s songs are cool…the first time you hear them. But for me, they’re like a Carolina Reaper or Dave’s Insanity Sauce; you really only need to try them once every few years.

Speaking of movies, the title of The Smithereens’ 3rd record was actually a nod to Spinal Tap (as in “This one goes up to 11”). I am not entirely sure that’s true, but I’ve heard it enough over the years to think it might be. Besides, I want to believe it, so…

Even if you don’t recognize the record, you’ll likely recognize “A Girl Like You,” which cracked the Top 40. That was supposedly written for the movie Say Anything, but didn’t make the cut. Just imagine Lloyd Dobler blasting that out of his boombox instead of Peter Gabriel’s ‘In Your Eyes.’

Woulda, coulda, shoulda.

That song would be their biggest hit, and it would be easy to assume that every track went as hard as it did. But the band owes much more to pop bands than rock bands. There are family-sized riffs and plenty of power chords, but those are balanced with plaintive lyrics and plenty of catchy choruses purpose-built for singing along. I wrote a whole ass love letter to Ed Stasium about his treatment of The Replacements’ Tim LP, and his touch behind the boards here is just as on point.

You get “A Girl Like You,” but also tracks like “Baby Be Good” (this writer’s fave on the record), and “Maria Elna,” which would be equally at home on a Gin Blossoms record.

Anyway, like Weird Al, the value prop with the Smithereens is simple; you get Mack truck-sized riffs, a groove so in the pocket, you owe it some change, and Pat DiNizio’s vocals. With 11, you get a record that is best enjoyed loud.

Bottom Line: My streak of playing the odds on my brackety and voting with my heart aligning was short-lived. But hear me out here: Somehow, Weird Al made the cut to get into this tourney. Do enough people actually like this record for it to be taken seriously, or was it, well, a parody of sorts? When making my picks, I went with the former. Each had to meet a threshold of votes to be invited to the dance, and I just can’t see there being a viable path to collusion. Maybe there’s an inside joke from previous tourneys that I’ve missed. I dunno. Either way, once again, my bracket pick is for one record, and my vote will be for another.

Head: Weird Al

Heart: The Smithereens

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!

Check out the full bracket here.

Info on the tourney, voting, and more is here.

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 7

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 7

Faith No More’s The Real Thing vs. Voivod’s Nothingface

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at Voivod’s Nothingface (#112) and Faith No More’s The Real Thing (#17)

Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.

I’ve started doing some quick hits of each match up and posting 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.

Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.

KA—

One of the things that can make a record above its weight are the memories one might associate with it. Experiences are enhanced with a soundtrack. For those of us who are analog natives, there is also the bonus of having (likely) discovered a band via a friend or listening to them together.

In my case, Faith No More checks both boxes. I first found this band when a friend pressed the tape into my hand during passing time at school. Listening on the bus on the way home, it was hard to stay still in my seat. It grabbed a hold of me from the start. There are a lot of opening tracks in this challenge. Few go from 0-100 as fast as “From Out of Nowhere” does.

It’s 6:17 in the morning as I write this, and just playing on these janky-ass work speakers is getting my feet moving. People pay good money to feel that sort of high.

This is their 3rd record, but it might as well be their debut. Apologies to fans of We Care A Lot and Introduce Yourself (and Chuck Mosley, for that matter), but for all intents and purposes, this is ground zero for the band. Alternately threatening and cloying, Mike Patton was completely unhinged, a whirling dervish with a several-octave vocal range.

‘Epic’ was a smash hit and the track most people think of when asked about the band. A lot of bands would kill to have something like that on their resume. Here’s the thing, though: for as good as it is, Epic isn’t the best song on the record. It’s not even the 2nd best; I might be 3rd after ‘From Out of Nowhere’ and ‘Falling to Pieces’. ‘Underwater Love’ might give it a run for its money as well.

Epic also became a weight around the band’s neck, sentencing them to one hot wonder purgatory and pigeonholing the band. A lot of people stopped at ‘Epic’ and missed out on a whole lot of great stuff that came afterward.

For its part, ‘Falling to Pieces’ is a little something for pop fans. It’s catchy. It’s bouncy. It gets in your head and makes itself comfy. ‘Underwater Love’ is a bit more funky, but no slower.

There’s even a cover of Black Sabbath’s ‘War Pigs’ here, which, while admittedly a pretty faithful rendition, is, for me, the one song that I could do without. But it’s one mistake in an otherwise solid record.

That’s down more to my tastes than anything else, but why include a cover in the middle of something so original?

If FNM pivoted with The Real Thing, Voivod did almost a 180 with Nothingface. Their previous records were much faster and more reckless. Not quite thrash metal, but close. This is…prog? It’s got all the usual hallmarks: multiple time signatures squished into a song, discordant riffs, etc. There’s even a song about planets here (“Astronomy Domine”), which also happens to be a Pink Floyd cover.

(sigh) okay, I guess.

Look, I try and listen with an objective ear, but this record was a test. If I’m honest, it became unlistenable at about the halfway point. The record doesn’t get worse; I was just at capacity.

Nothingface feels like the band had a brainstorming session, and “Rush, but make it more metal” won out. The end result is a (relatively) slower, much more complex record than earlier ones, but I’m not sure it’s an improvement. Growing up, we often ended nights at a local 24-hour restaurant. There was a regular who would sit in a booth and spend the small hours making his own chain mail. I can’t help but think this record was tailor-made for him.

I know this record is regarded as a significant influence in a small corner of the music world, but man, I’m just not seein’ it. I want to, I really do.

Bottom Line: The streak of voting against my own bracket is over (for now). Sorry Quebecois; my vote is going for the boys from The bay, and it’s not even close.

Vote & bracket pick: The Real Thing

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

Check out the full brackethere.

Info on the tourney, voting, and more is here.

As always, thanks for being here.

KA—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 4

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 4

#33 Elvis Costello, Spike vs. #96 Screaming Trees, Buzz Factory

In this round, my bracket pick reflects what I thought would be the favorite. I picked with my head and not my heart. Tough call to go against the record you prefer, but here we are.

There’s some relief in knowing both are objectively good records, and both serve as inflection points for their respective careers. Having to pick between two good records is a good problem to have!

And if I’m honest—and can predict how the bracket will play out—there are some seriously tough calls on the horizon. Like some Solomon-level shit.

But for today, let’s look at each of these:

###

There are a handful of Seattle bands everyone knows. The Q-ratings of Soundgarden, Nirvana, and Pearl Jam are off the charts. Nothing wrong with that;  we (collectively) like what we like.

But those bands tend to cast a long shadow, and underneath them were a whole ‘nother tier of bands that were just as good, who for whatever reason never hit critical mass the same way. Bands like Mudhoney, Tad, and Skinyard.

Bands like Screaming Trees.

1992’s Sweet Oblivion briefly put them on the map, and the hit single “Nearly Lost You” gave a glimpse of what their breakout might look like. But before that—before the hope/hype of the Seattle Sound (or whatever we were callin’ it) the band was grinding away on SST records, and in 1989 put out what was, IMO, their best record; Buzz factory.

The band’s fourth record shows them in fine form. Mark Lanegan’s voice is as strong as ever. Gary Lee Connor’s unique guitar sound delivers weapons grade levels of fuzz and wah-wah but never overwhelms. The rhythm section delivers a consistent muscular beat. Any questions are answered with the slinking groove that kicks off “Where the Twain Shall Meet.” This is a band much more similar to Led Zepplin than to their punk labelmates.

There are a couple of missteps here (take a bow Yard Trip #7), but those are the rare exceptions to the rule. Besides Where the Twain Shall Meet, standouts include “Subtle Poison” and closer “End of the Universe.” In between is some of the most solid, heavy-sounding grunge/psych rock to ever come out of Washington State.

In 1989, Elvis Costello was determined. New label, no Attractions, and after 2 years a new record to follow up two (relatively) well regarded releases.

I don’t know if “statement record” fits here, but I can’t help but think Costello went into the studio looking to prove something. With the benefit of hindsight, a demarcation line between the early era of Armed Forces and This Year’s Model and subsequent releases appears. I have to assume that if pressed, most people would recognize “Pump It Up.” As late as ’82 you might still be able to make the case with “Everyday I write the Book” off of Punch the Clock. But that’s an exception in a run of records that is largely a dry spell chart-wise. Even Costello didn’t much care for Goodbye Cruel World.

So! Back to Spike: There were no Attractions, Costello instead tapping a roster of, well, all kinds of musicians. T-Bone Burnett was there, as was Chrissie Hynde. Benmont Tench and Mitchell Froom, too. It’s a long list. And with that sort of variety comes a greater than zero chance that the result will be well done but inconsistent….or just a jumbled mess.

Having an anchor like Costello helps keep everything from spinning out of orbit. The horns on “Deep Dark Truthful Mirror” are a nice early touch. “Chewing Gum” is a strutting funk number. And of course, there was “Veronica,” a genuine hit, peaking at 19 on the Billboard Top 40, and topping the modern rock chart.

In the end, the variety is a positive. For better or worse, urgent tracks like “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace Love and understanding” and the aforementioned “Pump It Up” are what first come to mind when I think of Elvis Costello. But there are several years between those release and Spike. People change and sounds evolve. Listening to this again after several years (and maybe for the first time front to back?) the biggest upside for me are the little surprises. The horns here, the samba beat there.

Mixing it up keeps things moving right along

Bottom line: Head-to-head, Buzz Factory more closely aligns with my tastes. Had I voted my heart, that would’ve been my pick. But having Spike penciled in on my bracket is nothing to regret.  

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!

Check out the full bracket here.

Info on the tourney, voting, and more is here.

The Best Record of 1989: Day 3

by KevinLeave a Comment on The Best Record of 1989: Day 3

Throwing Muses Hunkpapa vs. The D.O.C.’s No One Can Do It Better

Today sees #32 Throwing Muses ‘Hunkpapa’ album facing off against #97 The D.O.C.’s No One Can Do It Better.

I sent in a Designated Cheerleader piece for Hunkpapa, so that should tell you where my vote’s going. Last fall, Sam Colt and I took on the ambitious/absurd mission of ranking our top 100 records of all time. I slotted this one in at #48, and wrapped it up by noting:

“This band was like nothing I’d ever heard before. In a lot of ways, they still are. Writing this, I’ve struggled to pin down an easy genre tag or a way to describe the sound. Some of it feels like the sun’s surface (literally, in the case of “Dizzy”), and some of it reminds me of fall. I don’t know how best to describe this record besides saying, “Just go play it!” What I do know is that in the 30+ years (yikes!) since that show, this record has never drifted too far from my playlists.“

All that aside, IMO, this is a much tougher call than it would seem on paper. Both are incredible records–albeit for very different reasons. And both have had a lasting influence–albeit on much different groups of artists.

I blew out my knee right at the start of COVID (0/10 do not recommend), and The D.O.C. kept me company for a lot of my rehab. It’s a record of its time, but still sounds fresh.

There is some chatter that Hunkpapa is overranked, while the D.O.C. is underranked. I can see the case for each. What do you think? Who ya got?

Check out today’s write-up (and Designated Cheerleader article (not mine) here.

Check out the full bracket here.

Discussion: What’re You Listening To?

by KevinLeave a Comment on Discussion: What’re You Listening To?

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 have recently upgraded your subscriptions. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts all help as well! Thank you!

When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:

Become a friend of On Repeat Today!

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. This week, we’ve got new sounds from Stereolab, Saint Etienne, and Robert Forster (among others). They’re balanced with a couple of old favorites & deep cuts.

Now it’s your turn.

What caught your ear this week? Any new releases or shows you’re looking forward to?

Whatcha got? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Leave a comment

A Fantastic Music Project You Should Know About

by KevinLeave a Comment on A Fantastic Music Project You Should Know About

The ways we discover and create music continue to evolve. Matthew Vanderkwaak’s new project is shining a light on both his own music and other emergent Canadian artists.

Photo: Samuel Landry

It’s 2025, and many of the guardrails and gatekeepers that used to decide what music we consumed are gone. We are no longer bound solely to whatever an A& R rep might decide we like. We can decide for ourselves.

That goes for artists as well. Most of us grew up with the narrative that discovery is either by sheer luck or after getting in the van and burning hard miles down the road. And even if you wanted to make a record, that might prove cost-prohibitive.

While some of that is still true, for the most part, the barriers to entry are lower than they’ve ever been. Today, it’s entirely possible to make a record using your phone and a few other software programs. You can do this without ever leaving your bedroom.

So that’s the good news; if you want to make a record, you can! The not-so-good side effect is that listeners must wade through more and more records before finding you.

Discovery might’ve changed forms, but it still matters.

Enter Matthew Joel Vanderkwaak. Matthew is from Atlantic Canada and is an artist himself. Taking a page from the likes of Fog Chaser, miter and olivia rafferty, he’s creating music in real time, using new pathways, and his readers get to hear it first.

Further, he’s committed to raising the profile of other artists and has a series where he spotlights emerging Canadian musicians, with an emphasis on Canadian folk and country music.

In 2025, algorithms and digital platforms are making a lot of noise. Artists/curators like Matthew Vanderkwaak provide a valuable signal, lighting the way for new listeners.

And with that, I’ll get out of the way and let Matthew share his work.

Enjoy!

KA—

I’m Matthew Joel, an artist from Atlantic Canada on a quest to encounter the spirit of Canadian folk and country music as it lives and breathes in our moment. I’m here today to share about my new project, The New Canadiana—a journalistic series about regular and mostly unknown Canadians who are writing, recording, and releasing music right now.

In the age of algorithmic curation and procedurally generated noise, I think folks are more hungry than ever to make meaningful connections with the human beings who make the music they love. This might be one of the major upshots of ai-generated media—it shows us how precious human-made art really is. More than ever I want to feel I know the people making the music I’m listening to, and more than ever, I’m learning that this kind of relationship requires an almost heroic act of focused attention. That attention, though, leads me into the spirit of art-making that inhabits human life and makes it special.

Last year, I finally finished grad studies and realized I wanted to start recording and releasing music again. It turned out that after 10+ years of desk work, academic writing, and listening to Carrie and Lowell on repeat, a lot had changed in the world of music marketing and promotion. Back in 2010, it was all about selling CD-Rs to my friends, posting on tumblr, and sending out mass emails hoping to strike gold in the blogosphere. I had never distributed music to streaming platforms before. If I did, would anyone hear it? How could I find a community of interested listeners?

Purveyors of music-biz best practice said that I should find out who else was making music like mine and do whatever they did. But who even were these people? Where could I find them? While asking these questions from within the horizons of social media and streaming platforms, I felt lost. The fact was that many of the people I knew making beautiful music had almost no traction on a place like Spotify. But at the same time, as I gathered more and more of this pressingly beautiful music together, I started to see common threads running through these different Canadian cities.

My conviction is that algorithms cannot be trusted to tell the stories of the human beings who make the art most precious to us. It takes human beings to make known what is truly human in our music. Of course, here at On Repeat Records, I’m preaching to the choir. This is how The New Canadiana was born—out of my attempts to practice attending in a more structured and public way to the beautiful human-made art that is all around me.

In this post, I’m distilling what I’ve learned from the year so far: three rules for attending to the music of a place. I’m especially happy to share about these principles, because what I’m seeing in these Canadian cities must be happening everywhere else too. I want to know how you are following rules like these and what you have discovered along the way.

1. Start with music made in the place where you are

In the effort to resist the algorithmic anonymization of music, I think each of us has a special vocation in the places we belong to. The first rule is to begin with the music made by people you know in places you know. Then, follow the threads. Trace the outlines of the scene that you are at the centre of by virtue of the fact that you are the one listening. You are the one who most of all can understand the meaning of the music that arises out of the situation that you also arise out of. And the rest of us need you to help us access to the art you are most equipped to hear.

The spirit of locality is very close to the spirit of music making. Human-made music belongs somewhere, and that place is not primarily an Instagram reel or Youtube video (which are only records of an event). Canada, which is ostensibly the subject of The New Canadiana, is, in truth, much too large a subject.

Instead, I have begun my quest with the actual Canadians I know whose music burns bright in my ears and heart. This first rule is about learning to trust that this feeling shows me the way forward. There’s no one else with my particular experience of this music made by these particular people. This means I have a task—something to attend to.

2. Have meaningful conversations with the music you love

The great threat to music distributed by streaming platforms is that it becomes a mere mechanism to evoke a mood or vibe without ever being allowed to become an end in itself. By contrast, I’m amazed at what I discover when I sit down with a friend and really ask them about their art. I might have assumed that the public nature of an interview would involve too much self-conscious reflexivity to invite meaningful reflection. On the contrary, I find that when I have a conversation that is on record, this imparts a focus and intensity that elevates my awareness of what we are trying to explore together.

As I prepare for interviews, I bring a structured mode of attention to the music that I rarely make time for. As I pay attention, I start to get curious: what makes this music work? What is it saying to me? How can I dialogue with its particular beauty? While conducting these interviews, I feel my conscience prick—why haven’t I asked my friends these questions before? They’ve made this beautiful art, and the meaning of its beauty is at risk of slipping by, unnoticed unless someone stops to recognize what has occurred.

3. Keep a public record of your discoveries

All it takes to dignify a work of art is attention, and the third rule is to give what you have understood in the art a public voice. Let us infiltrate online spaces designed to manipulate and monetize attention with the records of what we have discovered on the ground and in our bodies with other human beings.

Let us keep coming back to places like On Repeat Records to celebrate the beautiful music that has made itself known individually upon each of us as individuals. Keep a record of what you notice—snapshots of live music, reflections on concert experiences, evidence of physical media, listening journals, conversations shared between friends and fellow aspirants. The record of these experiences matters because only a human can access what is human in a work of art.

4. The New Canadiana

I’ve committed in 2025 to make my discoveries public in two ways:

  1. I am interviewing one Canadian songwriter a month. The interviews are an almost anthropological effort to encounter the spirit of this moment in Canadian music. If you’re to new to the series, I encourage you to start with the first one featuring Simon Bridgefoot.
  2. I maintain a playlist that situates these Canadians’ music in the larger context of folk and country music in this country. The playlist privileges songs that have come out in the past five years.
    The playlist lives here:
https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/5xrOeklTZqHLgZQqlU74l5

It all started as a chance to work out where I can locate my own music, and what I’ve discovered instead is that there is a world to which I already belong. Give the interviews a read and the playlist a listen and let me know what you see in them.

How many of you are already applying principles like these in your own practices listening to music? What have been the results?

Kevin here again: Thank you to Matthew for sharing his work, and thank you for being here. Be sure to check out his project and the other fantastic interviews he’s already done!

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A Quick Look at New Order’s ‘Low Life’ at 40

by KevinLeave a Comment on A Quick Look at New Order’s ‘Low Life’ at 40

Four decades on, the band’s third release sounds as new as it did on Day 1.


Today we’re taking a quick look at New order’s Low Life LP as it turns 40.

If you’ve been here more than a day or two, you know my love for this band. Various people have described it as “rabid,” “partisan,” and “a lot.” I can’t argue with any of those, nor would I want to. I’m old enough to still reflexively sneer at the term “fanboy,” but when the shoe fits…

At any rate, this isn’t the first time the band has grabbed some column inches here, and it won’t be the last. Indeed, some of the first writing I ever did online (not counting shitposting in aviation forums) was on the band. Along the way, we’ve covered their underrated tracks, force-ranked each closing track of the first ten records, and twice made the case why they should be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Expect a third around this time next year.

TL; DR- I love this band and I love this record.

The Transmissions podcast (correctly) described the band as one that changed the world. Twice. I just described them as one I shamelessly love. This first ran as part of a piece I wrote for Matty C’s What AM I Making newsletter, where I talked about their first four records.

Low Life is the third of that lot, and 40 years on, it is still one of their best. To my ear, it sounds as relevant now as it did on day 1. What do you think?

KA—

I had a giant poster of this record cover for years, and I was well past the “unframed poster” age when it finally came down. It survived more moves than many other supposedly more important possessions. (and more than a few relationships, jobs, etc.). New Order—or rather their graphic designer Peter Saville—also habitually released records with beautiful covers. Every release was a marriage of sight and sound. Saville wasn’t picky, either; he was at home tapping into Bauhaus or Constructivist influences as much as he was classic art. In this case, we got the first—and to date, only— cover to feature pictures of themselves on the cover.

Low Life first hit my ears early in junior high. I’m now pushing fifty, and still play it quite often. The idea that I now have a kid the same age I was when I first found this is mind-bending and probably a story for later.

The album is tight from A1 to B4, with almost no missteps. The punchy “Love Vigilantes” kicks things off, and the listener immediately knows things will be different. First, the lyrics are a narrative (the lyrics finally tell a story! Stay for the surprise at the end!). The frantic “Sunrise” features one of Hook’s most propulsive bass lines–really, Hook’s bass playing is solid across the entire record– and the tandem of Morris & Gilbert adds a pop layer to everything.

Low Life marks the spot where the band finally decided to include singles on their records, though they were often heavily remixed. The first single was the glorious “The Perfect Kiss” (this author’s favorite song, not just on the record but of all time). The only thing wrong here is that they used the 5-minute version, not the epic 9-minute 12″ single. The record’s last track, “Face Up,” starts moody before shapeshifting into a very poppy track with Sumner practically yelling, “Oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you!”

I don’t know who he was singing about, but I still don’t like them.

This is also their first record that feels like a record with an overtly intentional progression and lyrics that aren’t intentionally vague. It’s meant to be consumed in whole. Words are used to tell actual stories here–at least in a few places.

The result? A blindingly good record

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts on these records! Did I get it right, or am I way off the mark?

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