One of my favorite bands, Anathema, just released their latest effort, titled The Optimist. I’ve starred it on Spotify, but haven’t really had time to listen to it. (A cursory once-over got my hopes up, though.) As it happens, I’m old-school and like support the artists I like and to own my music, but what I’m not is a purist about formats. I figured I’d buy it digitally. However, once I got to their web store, I found I couldn’t. In 2017. Now, obviously there’s Amazon and iTunes, to name but two purveyors of lower-quality MP3 files, but still … why couldn’t I buy the digital edition directly from the band? Again: in 2017.
In light of recent events, here is The Beautiful South with Manchester.
[W]hen Kenny G decided that it was appropriate for him to defile the music of the man who is probably the greatest jazz musician that has ever lived by spewing his lame-ass, jive, pseudo bluesy, out-of-tune, noodling, wimped out, fucked up playing all over one of the great Louis’s tracks (even one of his lesser ones), he did something that I would not have imagined possible. He, in one move, through his unbelievably pretentious and calloused musical decision to embark on this most cynical of musical paths, shit all over the graves of all the musicians past and present who have risked their lives by going out there on the road for years and years developing their own music inspired by the standards of grace that Louis Armstrong brought to every single note he played over an amazing lifetime as a musician.
Pat Metheny on Kenny G. Vicious.
I’ve been listening to old U2 albums recently. Achtung baby, overplayed as it became, took me nearly 15 years to learn love again. I’m currently playing War for the first time in ages, and it’s sooo good – urgent, fiery, and yes, passionate. It’s so easy to make fun of Bono’s overblown persona these days that it tends to overshadow how fantastic a band U2 has been, how deserved their ascent to the top was. But time makes fools of all, I suppose.
California, dette myteomspunnede stedet fjernt i vest, har fortsatt ikke glidd ut av vår kollektive fantasi, mye takket være musikere som The Beach Boys, som flittig hjalp til å bygge opp myten om stedet. Bandet The Explorers Club kommer fra den andre siden av USA, nærmere sagt
Atlanta i Georgia Charleston i South Carolina, men når man hører dem spille, værer man sol, strand og surfebrett.
Deres siste utgivelse heter Together og kom i 2016, og for å være ærlig ligger det nesten parodisk nær The Beach Boys i uttrykket. Singelen heter California’s Callin’ Ya, og om du er glad i vakker koring, og trenger et snev av solskinn mens det pissregner i hovedstaden midtvinters, kan du ha absolutt ha det verre i tre minutter.
I’ll allow it.