I haven’t written shit in a long, long, time. Seems like years have elapsed since I last attempted this. Never took the time to tell you I reached a monumental goal in my life, or how a global pandemic short-circuited all our lives. There’s not much to say other than this is fucking strife.
For those who know me my politics are well known. There were many times I wanted to sit down and exude all my rage over this blog. Many, many times. Would it have been worth it? Unequivocally no. I’m comfortable admitting this evitable truth now more than another time in my life.
Why? Before I felt weak as if I’d forsaken my 1st amendment right; however, it’s not worth the scrutiny or the myriad of risks in expressing my thoughts on the status of the country or planet at large. Somewhere Tom Brokaw is taking an afternoon nap mumbling to himself “The world’s in trouble…”
Instead I want to get back to the kind of writing I know and love best: music. Despite a year where Kobe Bean Bryant and Chadwick Boseman passed, the Coronavirus pandemic, abominable murder of Black Americans, and a corrupt President and system 2020 has given us an otherwise strong assembly of records to begin this decade.
The success of Dua Lipa’s Future Nostalgia seems COVID proof as one of the most successful records of the year. One of the few pop records I own on vinyl. Phoebe Bridger’s Punisher became the most unintentionally timely record of 2020. I knew Punisher would be her best work but didn’t expect its lyrics to capture the overall mood of a planet in isolation and self-quarantine.
Looking at my favorite/best records of the year, more than most years, women have pervaded into this world and I don’t see that trending plateauing. I haven’t seen much buzz about Alina Baraz but the music industry should look at her like the NBA looks at Luka Dončić. She could eventually ascend into the higher levels of popularity.
When I read shit like NME saying It Was Divine sounds “bland in comparison” to other contemporaries I can’t help but laugh. Who are these clowns writing for these publications? You won’t find writers like Chuck Klosterman or Hanif Abdurraqib critiquing for these outlets anymore that’s for sure. I’ll buy all your Baraz stock if you’re selling. That record has bedroom jams for sure.
Haven’t seen much press for Lianne La Havas’s self-titled record either. Again, what the fuck are these people doing all day? Just praying corporate planet Billie Eilish puts out some more bland “duh” material? Thanks again Greg for bringing her LP over yesterday. I need my own copy.
Seems like the generation(s) after mine sits on Tik Tok all day casually listening to the Kidz Bop track of the moment. Where am I even going with this? Whether it’s Eilish or some other soon to be irrelevant product music has become like a Tweet. 280 characters, ten to sixty clips, doesn’t satisfy me like a full-fledged album.
Listening to records in COVID times indelibly imprinted on me the importance of supporting musicians with the craftsmanship to sculpt a cohesive piece of art. Good for you if you can get rich off making some flavor of the week banger. There’s a distinction between those people and artists. I respect those that can give me coherence, purpose, and sometimes even longevity; although, I never expect it.
I’m not a critic. I’m just a guy in his bedroom pontificating on the music that matters to him. Music of quality which seems rarer today than it did ten years ago. Back than I remember reading music had never been more saturated thanks to the advent of the internet provided platforms to share music. Equipment and recording knowledge had never been cheaper or more accessible then. Today we’re even more inundated with empty calorie music. I hope to give you the best nuggets I’ve found.
Disaesthetic 