It’s that time again… time for the end-of-the-year mixtape. While I usually just choose my favorite tracks from the year, it felt like this disaster of a year needed to be reflected in the song choices, so you might notice a little more of a narrative embedded in this year’s selections. Here’s to a better year ahead.
I started making yearly mixtapes back in high school, when a family friend offered to trade me a subscription to Rolling Stone each Christmas in exchange for keeping her up to date on what the kids were listening to in those days. While I now have not the slightest idea what the kids are listening to today, the wonders of the internet allow me to share that annual mixtape with many more friends, plus a few random strangers. I hope you enjoy, and have great 2016.
Back in October, my wife and I were fortunate to be able to take a trip to Fiji, and during the part of our stay when we were in the Yasawa chain of islands, were able to attend a church service in the village of Soso on the island of Naviti.
Music is everywhere in Fiji, and churches are no exception. I recorded some of the songs (and a bit of the preaching) before and during the service. A big vinaka to the church members for allowing us to attend, and for welcoming us so whole-heartedly to their village.
Another New Year’s Eve has come and gone, but I’m only slightly past due for the posting of my 2014 mixtape. It probably won’t help your hangover, but maybe give it a listen anyway.
This year’s mix was tougher to put together than last year’s, since while I bought or was gifted over 50 albums this year, only a handful actually came out in 2014—I bought a lot of back-catalog stuff and classic country (Dolly Parton, Pee-Wee King, Buck Owens, etc.). As a result, I threw in a couple of tunes released in 2013 by bands I saw live in 2014 to fill it out (there were also a couple bands I would have added in if they were on Spotify, so you should definitely check out the Jumbo Shrimp Jazz Band and Sarah McCoy if you’re ever down in New Orleans).
Turns out there’s a heavy New Orleans influence in this mix, even without the two artists just mentioned—it includes two acts out of the Crescent City (Big Freedia and Hurray for the Riff-Raff), as well as several tunes that mention NOLA. It wasn’t on purpose, but seems fitting given that the city seems to have become our go-to vacation spot.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and here’s to another year of great music.
Yes, friends, it’s that time once again, the time where everyone and their mothers list their year’s favorite everything. As usual, here is a playlist of some of my favorite songs of the past year.
The YouTube playlist below includes at least portions of each of the songs on my list, though some of them are fragments of live performances; you can also check out the Spotify playlist below that, which includes studio recordings but is missing four of the tunes included in the Youtube list (this modern media economy is confusing, innit?).
Anyway, I hope you’ll enjoy and let me know what you think of my selections in the comments. Have a great 2014!
From the “Better Late Than Never” file comes my annual best of the year mixtape. I made a conscious effort in 2012 to only buy music that came out that year, so I had a bit of an embarrassment of riches to choose from; as a result, I didn’t include tunes from several just-ok albums here. Did I leave of your favorite song of the year? Probably. Let me know what I missed in the comments.
- Jack White, “I’m Shakin'” from Blunderbuss
- The Coup, “My Murder, My Love” from Sorry to Bother You
- The Avett Brothers, “I Never Knew You” from The Carpenter
- David Wax Museum, “Harder Before It Gets Easier” from Knock Knock Get Up
- Best Coast, “Why I Cry” from The Only Place
- Amadou & Mariam, “Wily Kataso” (feat. Tunde & Kyp of TV on the Radio) from Folila
- Justin Townes Earle, “Movin’ On” from Nothing’s Gonna Change the Way You Feel About Me Now
- Japandroids, “Fire’s Highway” from Celebration Rock
- Kelly Hogan, “We Can’t Have Nice Things” from I Like to Keep Myself in Pain
- Alabama Shakes, “Hold On” from Boys & Girls
- Rhett Miller, “Marina” from The Dreamer
- Norah Jones, “Say Goodbye” from Little Broken Hearts
- Dr. John, “Big Shot” from Locked Down
- Heartless Bastards, “Parted Ways” from Arrow
- Cowboy Junkies, “Unanswered Letter” from The Wilderness
I have finally gotten around to creating a Bandcamp site for my music, which will allow me to sell individual tracks or albums for download. I’ve been toying with the idea for a while, and now that I’ve finally done it I can’t believe I waited so long. It has a fairly intuitive interface for artists to upload their work, and a simple (allowing little customization) but elegant end result that also allows me to embed tunes on the music page of my website. At the moment, I have only two songs posted (two tunes I recorded as promos for an upccoming production of Assassins, including a brand-new one, “McKinley’s Gone“), but I intend to add some of my older songs as well as tunes from a new solo project I have in the works.
A version of an old folk song, “Charles Guiteau,” that I arranged and recorded is being used in a promotional video for an upcoming production of Stephen Sondheim’s “Assassins” here in Chicago. The tune, told from the perspective of the man who shot President James A. Garfield, is over a hundred years old. Head on over to the play’s website to have a listen, or you can listen to or purchase an .mp3 of the song here.
It’s the most magical time of year. Yes, I’m speaking of the time of year when every armchair music critic, myself included, starts reeling off their “best of” lists. Since with last year’s list I finally gave up pretending that I ever listen to full albums anymore, here is a mix of the songs from 2011 that captured my attention. If you’re on Spotify, you can listen to the whole thing there.
- “A Candle’s Fire” by Beirut from The Rip Tide
- “Born Alone” by Wilco from The Whole Love
- “Tree By The River” by Iron & Wine from Kiss Each Other Clean
- “Gangsta” by Tune-Yards from WHOKILL
- “Barton Hollow” by The Civil Wars from Barton Hollow
- “Get Lost” by Tom Waits from Bad As Me
- “Two Against One (feat. Jack White)” by Danger Mouse & Daniele Luppi from Rome
- “Mustache Man” by Cake from Showroom Of Compassion
- “Screws Get Loose” by Those Darlins from Screws Get Loose
- “Fixin’ To Die” by G-Love from Fixin’ To Die
- “White Port” by Old 97’s from The Grand Theatre Vol. 2
- “Calamity Song” by The Decemberists from The King Is Dead
- “Hanging from a Hit” by Okkervil River from I Am Very Far
I have recently been reading Old Roots, New Routes, a collection of academic essays about the cultural politics of the musical genre known as alt.country. While I have read dozens (maybe hundreds) of such studies of (sub)cultures from Bombay’s Zoroastrians to Wicker Park’s hipsters, this is the first such work I’ve read that turned the critical eye on a cultural community with which I feel a close affinity.
The party line among alt.country fans and (slightly less so, I think) musicians is that they are hearkening back to, as Jay Farrar puts it, a “a truer sound,” an authentic country music free of the corrupting market influences of the Nashville industry, though necessarily performed with a knowing wink of irony. The essays in Old Roots New Routes, while ranging in focus (and, alas, coherence) rightly point out that country music has always been market-driven, and they question alt.country’s notions of authenticity, suggesting that a music based originally in working-class life, performed by over-educated, liberal, urbanites not raised on country music smacks of appropriation and minstrelsy. I would argue that the authors largely fail to interrogate the notion of what “working-class” means (does being working-class require undertaking manual labor? Is it a matter of income, or education? After all, many of those over-educated urbanites hold decidedly working-class day jobs in the food industry while pursuing musical careers), but overall the book is a refreshing reminder of the value of critically examining any and all cultural assumptions — particularly those we hold dear.
As I mentioned, I feel a close affinity to alt.country. While I would not consider myself a full-on scenester, it is the genre of music within which I tend to write and perform, and it makes up a large portion of the music that I purchase and to which I listen. Understandably, then, reading these essays has led me to interrogate my own involvement and investment in this cultural community. I grew up in a rural area, though in the Northeast, rather than the South or Appalachia. The rented house where I grew up had no running water in the winter, but I went to excellent schools, including a private high school (on scholarship), a well-regarded liberal arts college and a world-class graduate school. My mother worked at auto parts stores when I was little, then became a landscape gardener (is that a working-class job? I have no idea) and a partner in a landscaping business, while my stepfather worked for much of my childhood as a freelance illustrator (perhaps the working-class job of the art world, but unlikely to be counted as such by most observers), and later in advertising and higher education. Both had only briefly attended college, and though neither earned degrees until my stepfather did so many years later, books were everywhere in our house. My father, who held the undeniably “working-class” jobs of machinist and truck driver, and whom I visited in the summers, had actually come from a well-off family (my grandfather was an engineer and the son of a doctor).
I did not grow up listening to country music, though my father did own a lot of what are now considered precursors to alt.country, such as 1960s and 70s country-rock and outlaw country (I much preferred to listen to his Huey Lewis tapes), and my mother and stepfather were avid listeners to Prairie Home Companion (I loved the stories, hated the music). It wasn’t until I moved to a large metropolitan area that happened to be home to one of alt.country’s premier record labels that I started paying any attention to country music, whether alt or otherwise, and looking back I see the roots of my interest in it being a logical extension of previous musical interests, namely delta and ’50s Chicago blues and traditional Irish music (country, of course, is in many ways the offspring of African-American blues and Scottish/Irish balladry).
Where would all of that leave me in the eyes of Old Roots, New Routes‘ critics? I’m not sure. Even mentioning the above facts sounds like an embarrassing bid for a type of working-class identity that I would never consider claiming, as I far more closely identify as an over-educated liberal urbanite. But when I ask myself what drew me to this music, my answer has very little to do with a longing for an idealized rural past in which men were men, singers were always sincere, and people made everything they owned with their own two hands; hell, I hate manual labor. Rather, what I see in alt.country is a commitment to narrative songcraft and lyrical wordplay that is today really only matched in one other genre of American popular music, namely hip-hop (and one can imagine the cultural negotiation that would have been involved in my becoming a hip-hop artist). It’s a genre where words matter, and words were what got me hooked on music in the first place. Perhaps the critics’ points might be taken closer to heart by the people who need to hear them if they were put in a song.