A New Music Book You Should Check Out

In conversation with Rob Janicke on his new book and how you can get a free copy

Cover art courtesy of Inspired by You Books

Good morning!

We’re in for a treat today! Author Rob Janicke stops by to talk about his book, Slacker—1991, Teen Spirit Angst, and the Generation It Created.


It’s weird, this online life. There are people I’ve known for years—that I feel like I’ve known longer— that I’ve never been in the same room (or even the same time zone) with.

Rob Janicke is one of those people. He and I first connected as editors for the same online publication. It quickly became clear that we had more in common than a penchant for using a red pen. Our music tastes run largely in parallel, but so too did a lot of our early years, and the transformative role music played in them. More than once, I’ve said that it’s not an exaggeration to say music saved my life. It certainly saved his.

I’ve quipped that he and I were often at the same shows, just on opposite coasts. Except that it’s not a joke. Having those chats makes me wish I’d saved more than 1-2 of my ticket stubs. Who saw which band first, depending mainly on which side of the country the van left from?

Rob stepped away from his editing role to start a new project—a project that ultimately became Slacker—1991, Teen Spirit Angst, and the Generation It Created. As you’ll see below, it’s been a long road, and the final version looks very different from that initial pitch.

I will tell you now that reviewing this book was tough. It’s a project I’ve rooted for, and I was ecstatic to get an early copy of it (NOTE: for more on how to win a signed one of your own, read on). In other words, you shouldn’t have any expectation of objectivity here. Spoiler alert: it’s awesome. That said, I’m not just being nice when I tell you this is a harrowing and exhilarating read in equal parts.

It would’ve been easy enough for him to write a fairly straightforward look back at that early 90s scene. People love that sort of thing, right? Maybe even punch it up by making it into an oral history full of stories from those lucky enough to have been there. Instead, Rob weaves together that history with that of his own life. Ultimately, that blend makes for a much richer, more interesting story.

The shiny parts are an easy read (hanging out at the record store, going to shows, etc.). The book also dips a bit into the science of why music moves us the way only it can. If you’ve ever had your mind rearranged by a slab of vinyl, this’ll be relatable. All well and good.

However, the book also touches on some darker parts of life as a latchkey kid. That’s his story to tell, and he doesn’t gloss over any of it. My copy is full of highlights, dog-eared pages, and notes in the margins- some of which were questions I wanted to make sure to ask him.

Slacker isn’t a puff piece for GenXers looking to relieve their youth; there’s no garden hose memes, or rants about “kids these days.” Rather, it’s for anyone looking to read more about why that very specific time had such an outsized impact on our lives and pop culture. It was an era that changed the world, one life at a time.

If you’re of a certain age, it will absolutely resonate with you. You’ll likely see your own life reflected back at you the way I did.

I recently (Finally!) had a chance to speak with Rob. In our wide-ranging chat, we discuss the Slacker origin story, where it started and ended up, and the opportunities writing the book has presented.

The discussion has only been lightly edited for grammar and flow.

KA—


Congrats on the book! I know this has been years in the making. For those who may not be familiar with the backstory, could you walk us through how Slacker came to be?

Thanks, Kevin! You’re right. SLACKER started with some personal introspection during the COVID-19 pandemic and kind of took on a life of its own soon after I wrote the first few pages. It was April 2020, and I was in my backyard watching my dog play. As I’m sure you remember, life was pretty strange back then, as we were all locked down in our homes due to the pandemic and had to pass the time somehow.

While standing in the yard and sort of daydreaming a bit, I recalled a conversation I’d heard on a podcast or radio show earlier in the day. During that show, the year 1991 was brought up, and I remember thinking, “damn, next year (2021) we will be 30 removed from ‘91”. It blew my mind. I tend to think of life in terms of music, and for me, as many Gen Xers, 1991 was a massively important year in terms of music and culture. It changed everything.

So, with that in mind, I went back into my house and just started writing my thoughts down about that year, what it meant to me, the music I discovered, and the impact it and so much of what came after have had on me right up through this very day. A few months later, I found myself with over 30,000 words, some chapters, and the skeleton of a book.

To avoid making this answer too long, I’ll fast-forward to a meeting with a publisher (after many rejections or simply being ignored by other publishers had taken place) who was given a description of my “book” by a mutual friend. Luckily for me, they loved the idea and wanted to learn more. As they say, the rest is history.


One thing that sets this book apart is how it takes your own story and parallels it with what is happening in the music scene. It would’ve been easy to write a more straightforward history of the scene–and a lot of people would’ve dug that. What made you decide to pivot this into a more personal narrative?

This is a great question because, at first, the intention was to chronicle the scene without too much of a personal narrative. I don’t believe there are many books that do that with regard to the early Seattle movement. There are plenty of books on bands and artists from that era, but I can’t think of one that walks you through the overall story.

As I was writing it, though, it became obvious that the reason I love the music and culture from that period as much as I do is due in large part to how it shaped and helped me from the earliest moments of me hearing it. I couldn’t separate myself from the music. I’ve always believed that the personal lyrics and vulnerability of the songs played as much of a role as the sound of the music did in creating a global fanbase.

Millions upon millions upon millions of people cared about this music and still do today, so it didn’t seem right to leave my story out. I knew other fans would be able to relate because their stories probably mirrored mine in many ways.


You make no secret of your mental health struggles here. For me, this made reading the story that much more authentic. What sort of other feedback have you received from people? Have you been doing (or plan to do) any speaking on the topic as you do press for the book?

I appreciate you saying that. In early drafts of the book, I hinted at certain things about the issues and trouble I had back then, but I wasn’t fully letting go. I have to give credit to my publisher, Inspired By You Books, and their editors for teaching me how to let go. They saw what I was doing and worked with me to dig deeper and allow myself to be more upfront about my life rather than tiptoe around the more difficult topics.

As far as feedback, I’m so grateful that it’s been overwhelmingly positive thus far. They like the musical aspects for sure, and many casual fans of the era have told me they learned so much about the scene, how and when some of the bands started, etc. One thing almost everyone has said, though, is that they were taken aback by my story (most people in my life knew little to nothing about some of the more personal aspects) and that, in some cases, has given them courage to start talking about past trauma they’ve been through. Some have even told me things that they never told anyone else.

I wasn’t prepared for that, but I cannot tell you how happy it makes me that people struggling with things found at least a small step towards dealing with their struggles because they’ve read my book. As for speaking engagements surrounding the topic of mental health and/or how music plays a role in healing, I’ve given a few talks so far and absolutely plan on doing more.


There’s a passage–and I’m paraphrasing here– that says, “When strange things get stranger or just played out, and the youth of any generation decides it’s time for a change, things happen.” In your opinion, are we there now? We could take this in numerous socioeconomic directions, but I’m specifically interested in hearing how it might relate to music and how we discover and consume it. Listening parties are back in fashion. Blogs are in vogue. Are we there? If so, what’s that next phase look like?

I hope so!! Had I been asked this question prior to 2020, I’d say that we may never see a change in music or youth culture again. I was pretty sure of that. Since then, however, I have changed my mind. I think we’re living through very strange, difficult, and dare I say bizarre times right now, and I’ve seen and heard more than a handful of bands and artists rising to the challenge of creating something new.

Back in the day, music discovery was limited to Top 40 radio, MTV, fanzines, corporate magazines, and, to a lesser degree, your local scene. Distribution for the local or underground music was essentially nonexistent, so without major record labels and the money and power that came with them, we “discovered” what they told us to. It just so happened that what they gave us in the late 80s and early to mid-90s was pretty damn great. That music was the definition of change and rebellion to the norm at that time.

In today’s musical and cultural landscape, that doesn’t exist outside of pop music (included in that are the vanilla versions of hip hop and country). But because of streaming technology and the social media revolution, we can find anything we want. It takes more effort than it did back when it was spoon-fed to us, but it’s more fun this way.

I find most of the new music I love by diving down rabbit holes on YouTube or Instagram, Spotify, and the like. They say that if something was truly great, or at least powerful enough to have made a large dent in culture, it will find its way back every 25-30 years. This is because the original youth audience has grown up, had kids of their own to expose it to, and those kids have reached an age where they become inspired enough to put their spin on what they’ve been shown.

I think we are at that point now. I feel like the future of music will get edgier and angrier than it has been in a while, and hopefully, it will become popular enough to influence future generations to continue that sonic cycle.


In the book, you state that “Smells Like Teen Spirit” isn’t the best song on Nevermind, but rather that “Lounge Act” is. That’s a take sure to raise some eyebrows. Say more on that, please.

Ha…I’m glad you picked up on that. Let me first say that I LOVE “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” I thought it was an amazing song in 1991, and I think it’s an amazing song now. I honestly do not get tired of hearing it. It’s the reason the scene had a chance to take off and thrive, so it’s undoubtedly one of the most important songs of all time.

As far as my comment about “Lounge Act” being better, it’s a matter of taste. ‘Teen Spirit’ has that perfect verse-chorus-verse arrangement (the song actually begins with the chorus but without any vocals so you don’t really get the full punch) to it so once you get through the first chorus, the formula is there and you know what to expect.

Like I said, amazing song, blew me away when I first heard it. “Lounge Act,” with its infectious bassline that starts the track, instantly finds its way into your bloodstream. It’s just a great, solid groove. But as the song continues, it slowly builds up, feeling a little anxious and ready to explode.

The problem is, you don’t know where or how it will explode because the verses and choruses don’t change much, except for those slight upticks in tempo and feel. Then, the last verse hits, and structurally it’s the same as the others except Kurt is now screaming the vocal part. This is the payoff. It floored me the first time I heard and I just fell in love with it from that day on. It’s so simple yet I can’t recall hearing a song with such a slow build up (for a fast song no less) that leads to this visceral pounding.


As you look back now on the process of writing this, what surprised you the most?

The biggest surprise is that I finished it. I gave up a couple (or five) times. I took month-long breaks from writing a single word. I fought bouts of Imposter Syndrome. I had never written a book before and had absolutely no clue just how hard it would be. I believed in it though, so no matter the obstacle or length of time, I was determined to finish it.


One of the people you interviewed stated [they] believe record stores are more important than churches or cathedrals. I agree and would add concert halls to the list. What do you think it was that made those places so sacred for people like you and me?

Yes, that was John Richards, host of the morning show on KEXP in Seattle. He’s a legendary figure on the music scene, and since he’s my age, he was there when it all started. I loved speaking with him.

Record stores, along with music venues, as you mentioned, were the communal foundation for music fans from our generation. I lived in my local record store from 1991-1994. I spent most weekends going to small and medium-sized clubs in NYC to see any and every band I could. This was during the very infancy of the internet and more than a decade before any semblance of social media, so these places are where we found our tribe. People who wanted to watch, listen to, and discuss music.

It’s where we not only felt welcomed but also belonged. Those stores and venues, although owned by others, were ours, and we all felt it.


Towards the end, you touch on the idea that describing what it was like to be on the scene in 1991 will never come close to actually being there. Was trying to do that one of the reasons for writing this book? Mission accomplished?

Absolutely! When I was in college, I spent a ridiculous amount of time in the school’s main library for a kid who barely held a C average. I wasn’t studying or doing homework as you can gather by my previous sentence. Instead, I was reading every book I could find on The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, and any other musician or band I liked or simply heard of.

I immersed myself in cultures I wasn’t alive to see for myself but wanted to learn about. I’ve always been the type of music fan who reads every liner note inside the album jacket, every story and interview in the magazines, and watches every documentary I can. I was a sponge and information about music was the water. The more I knew about my musical heroes, the more I wanted to listen to their music.

Fast forward to today, or more importantly, when I started writing the book, I wanted to “pay back” the authors who wrote all the books I read from days gone by and hopefully have SLACKER become one of those books for some wide-eyed kid wanting to learn about music he or she wasn’t alive for. I want it to be a historical document as well as a relatable story of a kid who had his ups and downs, but through these bands, and through this music, made it out far enough to write a book about it all and hopefully inspire others to do the same if they so choose.

Mission accomplished? I think so, but time will tell I guess.


Last one, just for fun, you got tickets for a show this weekend. Who are we going to see?

Hmmm. Well, if you’re talking about a band from back in the day, it would have to be Nirvana. I say that because they’re just about the only band from that era I didn’t see. As you know, they broke big very quickly, in January of 1992. That’s when Nevermind went to number one on the Billboard album chart and the band only lasted a little more than two years beyond that. They didn’t tour a ton in the States after Nevermind took off, and for me in New York, most of their shows were for TV and a few invitation-only shows.

If your question is geared for the present day, I’d say we’re going to see either Bad Nerves or Winona Fighter.

Thanks so much, Kevin, this was a lot of fun!


We want to get this book into your hands! Want one? Here’s all you need to do:

  • Entrants must be subscribed to On Repeat Records or KevinSent.
  • Comment below and/or restack this post before 11:59 PM CDT on Wednesday, July 23rd, 2025.
  • Entries will be thrown in a wheel, with the winning name drawn on Thursday.
  • This is open to all readers. As always, Paid supporters of the newsletter automatically get two entries, and free subscribers can restack the post for a second entry.

It’s that easy!

Of course, there’s a playlist!

You can connect with Rob and grab your copy of Slacker via his website, or on Substack.

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts! Sound off in the comments or send me an email- I read every one of ‘em.

Thank you to Rob for his time, and thank you for being here.

Kevin—

The Best Record of 1989: Day 21-Janet Jackson vs. King’s X

Miss Jackson takes on Gretchen

Good morning!

Today we’re taking a look at Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation 1814 and Gretchen Goes to Nebraska by King’s X


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—


If Jackson’s Control album was a declaration of independence, follow up, Rhythm Nation 1814 was her manifesto on how she thought the world should be.

So how do you follow up an artistic/commercial victory like that? Well, you start by going back to Minneapolis and again working with Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis. There’s a familiarity there, but 1989 was a new day, and that meant a new direction for this record. Jackson had some things to say, and the synth pop of the last record would give way to a (relatively) grittier sound. Less synths, more guitar. She was taking on some heavy topics, and weighty topics require weighty foundations.

Those nasty grooves are all over this record, but so too is the New Jack Swing sound. There’s hard-charging riffs, and even samples from the last album.

As many longtime readers know, I’m not exactly a fan of the interludes and skits that were in vogue back in the day. At best they disrupted a record’s flow. At worst they were just obnoxious. Rhythm Nation is an exception; here, they do well to tie everything together, helping Jackson make her case. The title track is a call to arms, with songs like “State of the World” and “Livin’ in a World (They Didn’t Make)” serving as supporting arguments.

But! This is also a Janet Jackson record, and she (and Jam and Lewis) do well to know when to let off the gas and let us let our hair down. “Miss You Much” is straight-up pop, ready-made for a run up the charts. Ditto “Escapade” and it’s easy, breezy escapism. “Alright” might be the most underrated track on Jackson’s first 5-6 records. Play it and try not to feel better about the world, if only for a moment. And it wouldn’t be a Janet Jackson record without a torch song or two- “Come Back to Me” fits the bill nicely. “Someday Is Tonight” feels like the logical successor to Control’s “Let’s Wait a While.”

Rhythm Nation 1814 is a serious record made by an artist hellbent on having the world take her seriously. Mission Accomplished. It’s not lost on me that one of the early lines we hear on the title track is “It’s time to give a damn, let’s work together.” This is an album that will pull you to the dancefloor, but make you think while you’re doing it. All this from an artist then in her early 20’s.

As she sings on Escapade, “We’ll make the rules up as we go along/And break them all if we’re not havin’ fun”


Jackson’s stardom and lasting influence are hard to argue. Meanwhile, a case for King’s X is hard to make. If anything, they might dominate the “what might’ve been” leaderboards, but are otherwise a footnote in rock history. Maybe fodder for bar trivia or that pedantic “rock guy” we all know.

I can vaguely recall seeing one of their videos in fairly decent rotation on MTV, but I’ll be damned if I can remember which track it was. It’s not that this is objectively bad music— it’s not— it’s just not something that ever stuck with me. Part of that may have to do with their being saddled with a Christian Rock tag. While not overtly so in the same manner as, say, Stryper, there was enough there to get them sorted into the bucket. The band had to spend a lot of time and energy stating that they were simply Christians that happened to play in a band together. Which, ok. Nothing wrong with that, but that’s a needle you aren’t gonna be able to thread in 1989.

Frontman Doug Pinnick was also gay, and that meant Christian stores wouldn’t carry the record. Meanwhile, Prog fans had what they needed in bands like Rush. They couldn’t win.

In another timeline, things like discrimination wouldn’t exist, the band’s timing would’ve been better, and King’s X would’ve been huge. If nothing else, Pinnick’s vocals would get the credit they deserve— he can sing and do metal yells with the best of ‘em.

As it stands, it’s a good record heard by far too few people to have made a dent.


Bottom Line: Rhythm Nation 1814 was a huge commercial success, but also got a lot of people to think about things they otherwise might not’ve. King’s X is prima facie evidence that not every good record rises to the top.

My vote: My bracket pick and vote will be going to Rhythm Nation 1814.

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 11

Prince’s Batman soundtrack takes on The Durutti Column’s Vini Reilly


Today we’re taking a look at Prince’s Batman record as it faces off against Durutti Column’s Vini Reilly.


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 won’t bury the lede here; when I think of Batman, it’s of the Adam West Cesar Romero era. I want camp and bad jokes. I want the dorky Biff! Bam! Pow! graphics that popped on the screen during fight scenes. I want the Batusi.

When I think of Prince, I want that irresistible funk and nasty groove that can only come out of Paisley Park. And I want a bit of controversy sprinkled across the top. I want, well, “Controversy.”

I’m also not the biggest fan of soundtracks- whether the OST ones or the “songs from” type. There are a few exceptions (e.g., Singles and 24 Hour Party People), but as a rule, those are full of bands/songs I’m already listening to.

Sometimes, a soundtrack spits the difference, and a single artist/band crafts a soundtrack to a movie that catches my ear, but off the top of my head, only Wang Chung’s To Live and Die In LA fits that bill.

To put it another way, Prince’s Batman record did not check a lot of boxes for me. It’s not the OST (Danny Elfman wrote that). Instead, it’s nine tracks, of which two got some decent screen time, the rest relegated to bits and pieces here and there.

Perhaps that’s part of why it’s not memorable compared to the rest of his discography. Prince is not known as a guy who puts filler on his records (at least not in this era, anyway), and yet here we are: an entire album of formulaic tracks. Of little bits that do well to augment a film scene but grow tiresome quickly in their entirety. And on the other end of the spectrum, a 6+ minute Batdance track that is about 3:30 too long.

Again, give me the Batusi over whatever this is.

Not even Sheena Easton can save the awful “Arms of Orion.” This is the same pair that knocked it out of the park with “U Got the Look” just a couple of years earlier. Where’s that heat?!

This is a record that relies on the film itself to work; without that symbiosis, it fails to take off. I’m mindful that I’m measuring it against Price’s other work– an unfairly high bar–but still.

Reading up on this ahead of listening, I came across the idea that this was initially supposed to be an album split between Michael Jackson and Prince. MJ would take on the role of Batman, with Prince taking on the Joker.

If only. That kind of dichotomy would’ve made this a much more vibrant release! If nothing else, it would’ve made it more interesting.


As we go through this list, I’m finding myself surprised at how many bands I thought I’d heard (or had an idea of their sound), only to be proven dead wrong. If you looked at my music history, Durutti Column is a band—or a one-man band, mainly—that would be a logical fit. That one man would be Vini Reilly, the record’s namesake.

They were on Factory, which by default meant I was likely to check them out at least. Their name came up often enough in the circles I was swimming in. In ’89, Reilly was riding high after playing guitar and keys on Morrissey’s Viva Hate record. Listening now, I’m hit with the realization that I have absolutely never heard this before. Whatever the opposite of déjà vu is, I’m experiencing it in real time as I type.

The first thing that strikes me is that, in hindsight, this makes sense. In 1989, I wanted music with a pulse. With pace. And this ain’t it. This is gorgeous, experimental, and largely instrumental. And at that point in my life, instrumental was fine—as long as the BPM rate was above a certain threshold, and/or the bass hit hard enough. We don’t get any kind of verve until the mellow funk of People’s Pleasure Park at track 4. I was not a patient kid- no way would I have made it to this stage without passing.

The other thing that would’ve kept this from my tape deck or CD player was the aesthetics. I was in high school in 1989, and even amongst the indie crowd, there were fractures and factions. This seems like it would’ve appealed to the uber-pretentious among us. They were the people who wore black turtle necks year-round and performatively carried copies of The Stranger under their arms. My tribe wore skateboard T-shirts and over-indexed on louder, faster, and messier. As noted, there was plenty of techno & EDM and much love for anything “Madchester,” but this is something teenaged me almost certainly wouldn’t have got. I was a junkie— addicted to the rush sound gave me, and this was too low of a dose.

Back to today: listening now, I find this record genuinely interesting. It’s pleasant. I’m not saying either of those as a nicety. It’s varied. It has texutre. For a record, that’s now 36; it’s aging well—certainly compared to some of what came out of Factory during that era. I’m not sure I’d second the genius label Reilly had slapped on him, but his talent is not in question. This is a record I’d pick for a deep work session, but I worry it might be a little too interesting and prove a distraction. I can also say this is a record that I likely won’t listen to again after writing this piece. There’s just not enough of a pull to bring me back to it. Not enough “there” there.


Bottom Line: “You have so much potential” is a line that can trigger PTSD in a TAG kid decades later, and I’m loathe to invoke it here. Still, both these records need to hear it. Perhaps in a different universe, these records would’ve blown me away. But not in this one. Woulda, coulda, shoulda.

My vote: No heed/heart split here. My bracket and vote will both go to Prince; I think this is case of name recognition carrying an otherwise underwhelming matchup.

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!

2 responses to “The Best Record of 1989: Day 11”

  1. Ray Van Horn, Jr. Avatar

    I still play that Prince Batman album A LOT. One man show, funky as eff.

    1. Kevin Avatar
      Kevin

      I’m happy to hear it! Didn’t land for me, but you’ll get no argument from me about Prince being funky.

Leave a comment

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.

A New EP You Should Hear: ‘Deep Sea Diver’ by Oceanographer

Val Lowry-Ortega’s latest project speaks of big dreams in small town America

Photo: : Hannah Marie Belisle

Good Morning!

Today we’re listening to Minneapolis-based Oceanographer


Over the last few years, our journey to find new music has taken us to some odd corners of the country. We’ve made stops in places as far afield as Bellingham, Washington; Bloomington, Indiana; Athens, Georgia; and Portland, Maine.

Today, we’re staying in flyover country and hopping over the border into Minnesota.

The upper Midwest is dotted with small towns full of people with big dreams. Growing up in rural Worthington, MN, Val Lowry-Ortega was no exception. Like many from small towns (or suburbs), most of their school years were spent counting the days to get out of town; they left right after graduation. After receiving a scholarship, Lowry-Ortega Initially channeled their energy toward acting, but quickly found their heart wasn’t in it. Playing the guitar to put off doing coursework ultimately became the genesis of their musician origin story. It was a much better fit.

After a stop in central Wisconsin, they moved to the Twin Cities, met up with some friends, and Oceanographer was born.

It’s probably good that it didn’t work out with NYU anyway, because going through my acting program made me realize how off-path I was. I didn’t want to be told what to do by other people. I wanted to write my own work that I had full creative control over. So, I honed in on my songwriting and started playing small gigs with the folk punk community in Stevens Point. I introduced my first iterations of my songs in grimey basements littered with beer cans, but I finally felt like I was heading in the right direction, oddly enough.

~Val Lowry-Ortega

Deep Sea Diver taps heavily into those early years and the constraints of life in a small ton. Lowry-Ortega describes the sounds as “Midwest Dream Folk… a happy mix of Laurel Canyon Folk, 90s Dream Pop, and Midwest Emo.” The presser lists bands like Big Thief as comparisons, and even suggested The Sundays! Those are all apt, but listening I was reminded of KD Lang as well. Not everyone can nail that wistful sense of longing. Lowry-Ortega does.

When they sing His black eye swollen shut with shame/ Still half undressed in the window frame/He said that he had everything/But he gambled it away on “Midwestern Cowoby” you feel it.

The EP is three tracks full of guitars, lap steel, and easy beats, supporting her powerful vocals. It’s a bit folk, a bit country, and even a bit of pop- all with some gothic overtones sprinkled across the top. The lilting melodies belie the sometimes not-so-gorgeous stories of dreams unrealized and lives never fully lived. It’s the story of some people watching the big sky, yearning for something more, and of others destined to keep up appearances and settle for what they think they’re supposed to.

It’s the sound of something you’d hope to find on the AM dial while driving between Worthington and the Twin Cities, leaving the silos in your wake.

For readers in the Twin Cities area, the band has several upcoming shows!

  • June 1st Grand Ole Days (Solo)
    12:30PM-5:00PM
  • June 12th Kingfield porchfest
    6-9PM
  • June 13th at The Mess’s Backyard Blend
    With Skeleton Crew, Not Your Baby, and Modern Wildlife
    6pm doors, 6:30pm show
  • July 2nd songwriter round at Greenway Recording (solo)
    7:30PM Doors/ 8PM Music
  • July 8th New Band Night at The Green Room
    6:30PM Doors, 7PM Music
  • July 16th at Pilllar Forum
    With Finick and Natl Park Service
    Load in at 5, Doors at 6
  • July 26th Hot Dog Party at the Black Hart, St. Paul
    With ?Watches?, Dollchaser, Lure of Lilith, Mystery Meat, and Splendid 12-6PM (Benefit in support of trans youth)

Deep Sea Diver is out now on all platforms.

Listen:

Oceanographer | Deep Sea Diver (EP) 2025

Click the record to listen via Bandcamp

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this record!

You can connect with the band via Bluesky, Instagram, or on their website.

Leave a comment

In Conversation: Tricia Halloran

The music supervisor stops by to talk about what a normal day looks like, delivering the right song for the right scene, and drivetime radio

Good morning!

We’re in for a treat today; Brave New World’s Tricia Halloran stops by to talk about being a music supervisor for film/TV, drivetime radio, and more!


We all have a favorite.

That one song from that one movie. A track that defined a scene or even the film. One that resonates so much that years later, it still transports you to another world. There are, of course, big examples. Play a few notes on Simple Minds’ “Don’t You Forget About Me,” and ask the closest Gen Xer what it reminds them of. Odds are good that they’ll tell you Breakfast Club before you’ve finished the sentence—same story with Singles, Reservoir Dogs, and more. Same story with your favorite TV shows and those commercials that are playing one of your favorite songs.

How we consume media may have changed, but how music can define what we’re watching has not.

So how does all that happen, anyway? Between the director’s vision and what we take away from it are a long line of choices, logical hurdles, and legal issues. Hitting all the marks takes someone with not only an encyclopedic music knowledge—music might be subjective, but what music to place where is a skill—but also broad knowledge of licensing and copyright laws, what channels to navigate, and more. It’s part science, part magic. It takes a music supervisor. It takes people like Tricia Halloran.

With a background in computer science, Halloran started in the corporate world and quickly burned out. She then pivoted to the world of radio, eventually leveraging her experience in both worlds into a career as a music supervisor. Her days are still spent in a universe of sound and the less-exciting-but-no-less-important legal world. Sometimes, this can be as simple as securing licensing rights. Sometimes, it can mean getting several people with very different interests all on the same page- a critical skill in its own right. Often, it means a mix of both.

Closer to home, Halloran has a talent for sourcing new music and shares it here with her Brave New World newsletter (her radio show’s namesake). She describes herself as a musical sherpa—more on that below—and she does a fantastic job of sifting through countless releases to bring only the best to her readers.

In a wide-ranging chat, Halloran shares how she got where she is, what a “normal” day looks like for her (spoiler: there’s no such thing), and some of her favorite tracks.

Make sure to give Brand New World a read!

Our conversation has been lightly edited for clarity and flow.


KA: I’m curious about your backstory. What got you to this point in your career? What spark kicked everything into motion? Later on, what made you make the jump from KCRW to being a Music Supervisor for TV/Film?

TH: This is kind of a long but worthy story. I was a computer science major in college. Very set on having a career at a big company and a secure future with a steady good income. (ha!) I worked at Xerox right after college, as part of a sales team programming their huge laser printers and training customers. It was great fun, but after several years, I looked around at the managers above me and thought, “I don’t want to be that.” Then, somewhat simultaneously, I had a really bad breakup. And I would sit in my office morosely and play Sinead O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares 2 U” on repeat. After a few days of this my friend came in and said “I can’t take it anymore, you need to do something new, why don’t you go down to that radio station you love so much and volunteer there?” So I did. I lucked into a great evening shift volunteering for Deirdre O’Donoghue, who became my mentor, and gradually, I was able to work on-air and then get better and better shifts. Through KCRW, I met somebody who worked at Capitol Records, and I was able to get a full-time job there that used my computer background. Eventually, I was hired full-time at KCRW by Chris Douridas to help run the music department and manage the physical music library.

Also through KCRW I met an indie filmmaker and he asked me to work on his film, it was my first project and I had no idea what I was doing but luckily one of my best friends (that I also met via KCRW) was a music supervisor, so she showed me the ropes. I left my full-time job at KCRW (but kept my evening on-air shift) soon after Chris left … mainly because they chose someone else to replace him, so I thought it best to look for other opportunities. I worked at a music website startup, and then I got a full-time job music supervising commercials, so I got some great experience there.

Again, through KCRW a TV project came my way, Men In Trees on ABC starring Anne Heche. After that, more TV projects were offered to me via word of mouth. My employer wanted to focus on commercials and not TV, so I went independent, and that’s where I am today! After several years, I got an agent, and she helped me get some film work and widened out my contacts in the TV and Film worlds. (She was just thanked by name at the Oscars, by the way, her composers Clement Ducol and Camille won Best Song for Emilia Perez!)


KA: What’s a normal day look like for you?

TH: No such thing as normal, literally! That is one of my favorite aspects of this job. Assuming for a moment I am mid-project on a TV show. There are generally three 2-person editing teams working on three episodes. They are filming an episode and writing episodes simultaneously. So the Executive Producers, the director, the writers, or any of the six editors might need songs for what they are working on. Once they ask, they generally need things immediately. So it’s a lot of responding to their needs. Somewhere in there, I also need to research song ownership, clear songs, keep a budget updated to let the Post Producer know our costs, and eventually create cue sheets.


KA: The Telecommunications Act of 1996 forever altered the radio landscape. Apologies if I have my timelines off, but In what ways did it affect you personally? How did you navigate those changes?

TH: That is a really interesting and deep question! By 1996, I was deep into my tenure at KCRW, which, being a public-owned radio station, wasn’t affected negatively by the consolidations. However, thinking about it, I’d say there was probably a positive effect for KCRW since they became the only independent choice left, right? Used to be there was a decent commercial alternative rock station in Los Angeles, and a really good “Adult Alternative” (AAA) station that would play Roxy Music and the BoDeans. But KROQ became much more commercial after that, and the AAA station was purchased by one of the conglomerates. So I’m speculating that, if anything, it drove curious listeners to camp out at KCRW. The mid to late 90s were really great times for KCRW, membership would increase year over year, and amazing artists would come by the station – perhaps this was assisted by the fact that they became the only indie radio left in town?


KA: Jumping back to the present: when you’re working on a TV/film project, what’s the process you use to find songs that fit? Do you come in later and maybe watch a rough cut of the film, or does it start at the beginning?

TH: It’s never too early to start! For example, let’s say there’s a Karaoke scene scripted. Once they film the scene with the actors singing a song, it’s married to the visual, and you have no choice about the song and no bargaining power over the fee. So it’s better if I can work with the writers when they are imagining the scene and suggest songs that I know will be both clearable and affordable.

Once the editors are working on a cut, I find it best to try to get them choices so they don’t go hunting around on their own, which is sure to turn up obscure things that are maybe difficult/impossible to clear or incredibly popular songs that are very expensive. Editors love to go on YouTube to find music, which contains a surprising amount of unreleased/unclearable music!

When an editor finishes their cut and turns it over to the Executive Producers, ideally, all the music in that cut is clearable and affordable. But the EPs may have their own ideas about the music, so sometimes I get requests to change music.

For example:

EP: “Tricia we need something different here.”
Me: “Different how?”
Them: “Just different, y’know.” !!!

As far as process, I wish it was more definable, believe me! Every placement is an equation with different aspects. If it’s a background in a bar, I’m looking more at libraries of pre-cleared music or indie artists that won’t cost a fortune. If it’s an ending song to accompany a montage, I’m looking up the food chain a little for something that might resonate with viewers, then the lyrics are really important. If it’s Karaoke, I’m looking for something vintage that is recognizable but won’t cost a fortune. Experience is the best teacher here!


KA: How much of your time is spent on the logistics side of things? I’m talking about securing licensing rights, etc.? What’s involved? Roughly speaking, how long does it take to “get” a song to use on any given project? What about costs? Is it a flat rate, or is every track/label different?

TH: Most people are surprised that I spend about 50% of my work hours securing clearances. It can be a pretty complex task, depending on the song. But I like research and right-brain stuff just as much as creative, so I don’t mind.

You first have to research who the rightsholders are. Who wrote the song? Do they have publishers that control their copyrights? Who owns the actual recording of the song – usually a record label and not the publisher, so that’s already at least two rightsholders. If there are multiple writers, there could be several different publishers and a record label. They all need to agree on the set of rights (which vary widely depending on the project) and the fee. So, it’s a combination of research, communicating, and negotiating.

I have a million crazy stories about clearances, but we don’t have the space! Costs also vary widely depending on the project and the rights. From a low of $1000 for a song to $150K, I’ve done every deal you can imagine in Film and TV. For commercials, the fees are higher, and a recognizable song can easily command $500K.


KA: You describe yourself as a “Musical Sherpa,” and if I’m honest, I wish I’d come up with a cool descriptor like that! To double-click on that for a second, when you say that, what do you intend for it to mean?

TH: I love being people’s guide to music. Most people who love music, especially indie music, are always looking for more new music to love. It’s hard to find these days (due to the radio consolidation you mentioned), and also streaming music platforms and DIY recording and distribution have provided so many more choices that it’s like we’re thirsty but drowning. Music fans can be overwhelmed! That’s why your newsletter and all the conversations you have in your chat about music are so critical for music lovers and what I’m trying to help with via my newsletter.

Maybe Substack is the new radio? My show on KCRW was always about guiding people to incredible music they might not know otherwise. So I’d play a little REM and then some Olivia Tremor Control. You like this? Then maybe you will like this. You like The Replacements? Let’s follow that up with some Buffalo Tom. So that’s where the Sherpa comes in, like a musical guide—to music fans, to filmmakers, to friends. It suits everything I do!


KA: Last one, just for fun: You’ve got an entire drivetime slot to play whatever you want. What’s coming through my speakers?

TH: Ooh best question ever! I do miss being a DJ. If you gave me one hour on the air this week, here are the 20 songs I would play.

I would begin with Hana Vu because I am obsessed with her! She’s an incredible visual and musical artist. My other current obsession is the Luke Sital-Singh song “Saint & Thief,” which is so well-written that I played it 10 times in a row the first time I heard it. He’s a genius.


Have you ever thought about the music behind your favorite movies or shows? Maybe thought about what the job entails? drop any questions, thoughts, or hot takes in the comments!

Thank you to Tricia Halloran for her time, and thank you for being here.

Kevin—