Who influenced who? I wasn’t introduced to The Band until after maybe my fifth Dead show. For me, this was the 90’s, still just a teenager. The popular music at that time, in my opinion, was nowhere near the caliber of the iconic bluegrass, folk, country, psychedelic, classic rock bands. I was diving into my parents’ world, my mind being blown, unfamiliar with the timeline of music influencers. Not as well known, The Band was the most influential in the development of the Dead’s sound. The Band has also inspired songwriters and groups, including Eric Clapton, George Harrison, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Led Zeppelin, Peter Gabriel, Elvis Costello, Bruce Springsteen, etc.

Deadheads should see ‘Once Were Brothers: Robbie Robertson and The Band”. The documentary is extremely enjoyable if you dig this music genre and are craving a little music history. Although take it with a grain of salt since it is from the sole perspective of Robbie Robertson the group’s frontman. Robertson is extraordinarily talented. He’s a rock legend and a driving force of the success of The Band, yet again he was still only one-fifth of the group. There’s a scene where Robertson recalls Levon Helm (drums and vocals) being so high on heroin that he cannot perform. The four other members, Rick Danko, Garth Hudson, Richard Manuel and Robertson take the stage without him. The sets are off. If the other members could share their stories I wonder if the flick would have been a totally different movie.   

Putting this aside, the doc blends beautiful but eerie, rare archival footage. You want to sing along or get up and dance which would freak out or piss off your fellow West Los Angeles, stuffy moviegoers. The Band’s history is interesting and for me unexpected. Spoiler Alert….If you don’t think the discovery of Robertson’s Jewish gangster roots are hysterical, you are lacking humor. The Band toured with Bob Dylan. They weren’t The Band at that point. Dylan’s tour sparked their name once they went out on their own. I had no clue that as Dylan was exploring his new sound, The Band as his backup, they all were consistently booed and terrorized with flying objects. The movie also explores Robertson’s immense sadness focused on the Americana group’s (his band of brothers) demise due to the members’ drug addictions.    

I was born in 1976. I was able to experience the birth of rap and hip hop. I’ll admit I enjoyed a boy band or two. However, nothing is comparable to the music of the ’60s and early ’70s. See the movie and then Pandora, Prime, Spotify or whatever The Band on your way home. Regardless of the pitfalls (same tried story of a band and addiction or one person’s perspective), I am glad this flick celebrates this incredible music. The Band developed their own sound influencing countless of our favorite artists.

Letitia VanSant released her sophomore album, “Circadian.” Her debut record was “Gut It to the Studs.” I was intrigued by the description of this Baltimore-based singer/songwriter as distinct, vibrant and folkie with strong indie arrangements. Unfamiliar with her sound, I had a listen.

If an artist is good, there’s always a few songs I can’t get enough of on a record. I start playing them obsessively. I’m pretty positive I drive my neighbor nuts playing the tracks on repeat while trying to poorly mimic each cadence of the performer. After finishing VanSant’s album I fixated on three songs. 

“You Can’t Put My Fire Out” is extraordinarily powerful. I loved the lyrics, “I didn’t run, I didn’t scream, I didn’t want to make a scene.” She continues, “Too long you have lived inside my mind. You paid no rent, you stole my time. Now I’m taking back what’s mine.” VanSant was sexually assaulted. This song is poetic and timely with the #Me Too movement. I appreciate VanSant’s honesty in bravely expressing her truth while simultaneously taking back her power. I hope it was as cathartic to write and perform as it is to experience as a listener. I was drawn to “Tin Man” which focuses on gender stereotypes that negatively impact connections within the world, especially romantically. For me, “The Hustle,” (not sure if this is accurate from VanSant’s perspective) is telling us to keep going in a cute, yet beautifully written melody. The chorus is catchy, “Hold your head up high. It’s fake it ‘til you make it, so try to crack a smile. There are no short cuts on this road you choose, so hang on another mile.” The entire track is solid. VanSant is methodical, her voice soft yet perfectly pitched when deep emotions need to be expressed. Some songs are haunting. Her band is tight and the guys are sexy. I looked up some videos on YouTube. 

As with the three songs I obsessed over, many of the “Circadian” track tell important stories, including the environment and social justice. In these intensely turbulent times, (sorry to get real, but we are in a heap of hurt globally), I feel we desperately need strong voices to shed light on the subjects that many would prefer to sweep under the rug. VanSant’s work is refreshing. Her style is reminiscent but a modern version of singer/songwriters and bands including Joan Baez, Joni Mitchell, Holly Near, Ani Difranco, Indio Girls, and the Dixie Chicks, all responsible for changing the world with their profound messaging. Of course, I did a little research on VanSant to understand why her lyrics are focused. Interestingly, but not surprising, growing up in the DC area, she spent six years at a progressive lobby group. 

I am a bleeding heart. Besides this writing, side hobby, I have always worked at amazing non-profits trying to make a difference. I’m also a liberal, granola hippie, horrified with the circumstances of our crazy, but beautiful world. Perhaps this state of being drew me into VanSant’s music more. I appreciated her vulnerability and humanistic approach to composition. Additionally, it’s another reminder that hopefully with artists like VanSant “The Times They Are A-Changin.”

Kyle LaLone has the quintessential, classic, country sound and the messages to match. His five-song album, “Somewhere In Between,” scheduled to be released in April is personal. His tracks focus on his struggles with sobriety, learning about his true self and of course it wouldn’t be genuine country without a love song or two.

In this LP you hear the influences of Hank Williams, Buck Owens, Cowboy Copas, early Elvis Presley and even though a female, legendary Patsy Cline. LaLone’s sound is twangy and cheerful even in the midst of the challenging subject matter. I almost want to call his music bubbly but that isn’t quite right. I liked all the tunes, but particularly related to “Our Love.” It evoked my failed, significant relationship. Depressing I know, but love lost is normal. Each of LaLone’s lines catapulted me back to moments when I knew our twelve years were ending. “Lately we sleep back to back, somethings always wrong.” He continues, “But lately we have the same old fight, no matter what we do.” Later he adds, “It’s like a door got a locked and I went and lost the key.” Yeah, I completely relate LaLone. “Our love ain’t what it used to be.”

I always dig deeper when listening to an artist. On LaLone’s official website, I found his instrumental song, “Spanky.” I started to groove and was immediately reminded of Johnny Cash. People, it’s toe-tapping! Then I was redirected to his first record which is also all instrumental. “Couch Surfin’” sounds very much like The Tornados’ “Bustin’ Surfboards.” Who are they you ask? Their song is featured in “Pulp Fiction” during the scene where body pierced Jody describes the immense advantages of oral sex with a tongue stud. LaLone music took me on a journey. His style in this song reminded me of a favorite flick, showcasing a surf rock, 1960’s band focusing on that bizarre subplot surrounding oral sex which I feel is always a great topic. Where will LaLone take you?

LaLone surprised me with every track. I don’t normally gravitate towards male, country singers but he impressed me. LaLone is a talented musician. He can sing, song write and masterfully handles a guitar LaLone is based in Los Angeles. As a native Angeleno, I would totally check out a show. I recommend you do too if he’s in your area or just listen to his tunes.

I’m really pissed at age 43 I’m just now being exposed to Front Country. Why? Well, because they are an outstanding roots, rock band. Their sound draws on various American musical traditions including country, bluegrass, folk, even gospel and soul.

The band requested a review of their single “Do Re Mi” released in early March. I’ll give you my take on the song. However, I wouldn’t be doing Front Country justice if my review wasn’t more extensive as their repertoire is absolutely stellar.

“Do Re Mi” is not to be confused with “The Sound of Music,” theatrical number where the Von Trapp children and Julie Andrews as Fraulein Maria frolic and sing on a hilltop somewhere in Austria. Instead in this “Do Re Mi,” Front Country reinvents a tune by Woody Guthrie, a key figure in America’s folk arena inspiring generations social-politically as well as musically. The cover is funky, edgy, throaty and soulful.

This warning tale to Dust Bowl migrants about the lack of work in California and remaining in the south has meaning to Front Country. The band came together in Northern California. Unfortunately, with the west coast no longer being affordable and the need to explore alternative opportunities, they took the reverse journey depicted in the song, landing in Nashville. For me their rendition is a homage to Guthrie’s less known song.

Taken by “Do Re Mi” I went down the YouTube rabbit hole, something I’ve never done before. I started with the band’s Kitchen Covers where they expertly refresh songs. Kitchen Cover #4 “Tennessee Jed” makes me seriously question which version I like more. Being a Deadhead to the core, this rattled me while illustrating the band’s strength. I pulled up #3 “What’s Love Got To Do With It” originally recorded by Tina Turner. This interpretation blew me away with their vocals, tambourine, violin, upright bass, guitar and I think a mandolin. (Forgive me, I’m not great with identifying instruments or obscure animals. Non sequitur; don’t most people have problems differentiating between lamas versus alpacas?)

Front Country isn’t just a cover band. I started exploring their original music which is perfectly crafted and powerful. Their talent as a group is undeniable, each musician bringing a special gift. Though I must call out Melody Walker for lead vocals, guitar and percussion. She reminds me of gospel singer Mahalia Jackson. She also embodies artist like Diana Ross, Anita Baker, Nora Jones, Alicia Key and Jennifer Hudson. All spectacular company.

Front County captured me. I will seek out a show. I’ll play their records. I’ll Amazon Prime their tracks while dancing around happily in my kitchen. They have inspired me to maybe even YouTube my Kitchen Capers.

Mihali Savoulidis went out on his own releasing the single “Empty Overflow.” You may be familiar with Mihali from the rock quartet, Twiddle. It’s simple; Mihali’s musical talent is special.

Reggae is the dominant style of “Empty Overflow.” However, I also heard blues, pop, and rap undertones. Mihali shared being inspired by Kurt Cobain, Bradley Nowell and like every reggae artist Bob Marley. To me, his guitar solo is extremely Carlos Santana-ish. The control is effortless, smooth but still electrifying. The chorus has a simple strumming riff but he diverts and magically the song takes a different path. His vocals reminded me of Jason Mraz in “I’m Yours” and even “Billionaire” by Travie McCoy, featuring Bruno Mars. There is also a lot of similarity in sound with Matisyahu. The tune in his music video is a little over seven minutes but don’t let that deter you. You want it to go on for 70 minutes. Luckily, Mihali has an entire, new album, “Breathe and Let Go,” to accompany the “Empty Overflow” single.

“Breath and Let Go” has a total of eleven songs with impressive, feature artists including Citizen Cope, G. Love, Special Sauce, Nahko, Trevor Hall and Matisyahu. (Told you he sounds like him.) All the guest artists truly complement Mihali. Every song on the LP is well crafted but I really like “Hypocrite” as it contains a similar guitar style as performed in “Empty Overflow.”

Mihali’s record embodies the traditions of reggae. What I love about the genre is that it carries broader messaging, impacting more than just entertainment. Reggae is a medium for expressing social, economic and political ideals. It is significant in counterculture movements. Of course, and thankfully, it has also influenced other types of music such as rap, hip hop, dancehall, and reggaeton. Mihali brings those strong, important, reggae messages while still adhering and composing the music into positive vibes. In every chord and inflection, I feel his passion.

Listening to Mihali’s entire album but particularly “Empty Overflow” I was transported to the Popoyo coast of Nicaragua where I was surfing in 2015. The boutique hotel/hostel hosted a dance party with local artists. The music featured was primarily reggae and reggaeton. Yes, I was on holiday and chill. However, immediately, whenever and wherever I listen to reggae, I feel relaxed and upbeat. I’m whisked away with the sound of the guttural, raw but sweet voices, the methodical storytelling, the wailing guitar and tribal, rhythmic beats. Mihali, thank you for giving me those holiday sensations while I wrote in my dining room on a cold and drizzling evening in March.

Music is the saver. Well maybe not, but there’s no argument it is powerful. These are crazy times. (Coronavirus Apocalypse! Too much? Too soon?) I’m not trying to minimize the situation. I am a sensitive soul and understand as well as empathize with the reality that people are very frightened. The world is uncertain and vulnerable right now. Being that it is such a strange time, we desperately need healthy distractions. Spending the weekend social distancing, I was happy to share my space with Dave Simonett and his new album “Red Tail.”

Simonett has been the lead singer, song writer and guitar player for the roots band Trampled by Turtles. He has previously released two albums under the handle Dead Man Winter. Each track on Simonett’s “Red Tail” LP is better than the next. My two favorites are “By the Light of the Moon” and “You Belong Right Here.” I love the easiness to the lines and the serene melodies. They spoke to me.

In the majority of the tracks Simonett’s tone shifts slightly from the sound of Trampled by Turtles. His soothing, echoing voice evokes glimpses of Bruce Springsteen and even Bob Dylan. The music is less twangy. The instrumentals aren’t the traditional string pings. Although it is in there. The eight song album verges on ethereal country/folk rock if that is such a thing. It’s a balanced record. Some tunes like the lead track “Revoked” are low key. This one is also a bit eerie. Others are quick paced and upbeat such as “Silhouette.” The final song, “There’s a Lifeline Deep in the Night Sky” is silly with its chatting, giggling intro and then the quick reset. It reminds me of classic songs with fun starts like Weezer’s “Undone,” The Beatles “Two of Us or “She’s a Rainbow” by the Rolling Stones. The themes depicted in Simonett’s songs range from transformations to the natural. Again, it’s a well thought out record.

Simonett’s music did the trick. It was a comforting diversion. Each tune was beautiful, even peaceful. Use music right now. In an effort to insert a little bit of levity in this madness, as R.E.M put so well, “It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.” Although suffering greatly, the Italians are singing out of windows, on balconies and cloistered from their homes. We created a COVID-19 parody using the melody of “Come on Eileen” by Dexy's Midnight Runners. Music not only brings us together but is medicine for the soul. These are unprecedented times, but find the silver linings. One of mine has been discovering Simonett as a solo artist.

At age 23 I was negotiating my first, real job, trying to balance social commitments, a tad self-absorbed, overly anxious and sadly eating apples and peanut butter with a side of cheese and crackers for dinner. (Well, truth be told, my dinner is still this pathetic array, but I moved to expensive gluten free alternatives and predominately goat as a better dairy option.) I was just trying to stay afloat, not making societal contributions. Mason Summit, a student at University Southern California (USC), Thornton School of Music, on the other hand, is making music. Good music no less. He’s putting something out into the universe, unlike the 23-year-old version of myself.

“Negative Space” is Summit’s new single scheduled for release late March. It will accompany his album of the same name. He also most recently produced “Doomed from the Start.” I started with this tune, moved to “Negative Space,” followed by many of his other works available on YouTube. His style is primarily rock, pop with a touch of alternativeness. I know this may sound strange, but Summit is a combination of unplugged Kurt Cobain and The Beatles. In “Doomed from the Start” there is an entrancing sorrowfulness, reminding me of Cobain. Both songs, sharply parallel the music of The Beatles, Byrds, Monkees and if we want to throw in something more modern, Oasis.

“Negative Space” has the same sing-songy-ness and instrumentals analogous to The Beatles sensations “And I Love Her,” “I Will” and “Across The Universe.” There are notes of Davy Jones. (I know a comparison to The Monkees may seem insulting. It’s not! Keep in mind, although initially manufactured for a TV series the band became a ginormous hit with members of their quartet maturing into excellent musicians and song writers.) I don’t know the singers well enough in The Byrds to highlight a particular performer, yet many of their lesser known tunes are similar to Summit’s style. Tell me Oasis isn’t a Summit influence.

The chorus of “Negative Space” is peppy, but then the electric guitar jumps to life bringing an almost psychedelic vein. I spent days racking my brain as the refrain mimics another tune. This is not a bad thing. It is actually a huge complement as imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I never figured out the song which is fine since I like Summit’s better! What do you all think?

When I started writing this piece, I got a little down on my twenty something self. Then I realized, Summit is just ahead of the curve, or at least me. (Although, don’t fret, I am happy to report I am making a difference now.) I digressed. This review is about Mason Summit and you, my dear, have a bright future ahead. You have also given me back a bit of hope that not all Millennials are useless. (I’m somewhat teasing. Obviously, this is coming from a jaded Gen X-er.) Keep up the creation. All your work is very promising.

We do not have a food shortage due to COVID-19. This is worth repeating. We do not have a food shortage. Unfortunately, products are limited due to the unnecessary hoarding mentality. I live in Los Angeles. At the start of our mayhem, I went to my local market horrified to find all the fresh produce was taken. Do not fret. Lettuce is answering our prayers by releasing its’ seventh album, “Resonate” in May. The grocery stores may be limited while they restock, but we will have plenty of new Lettuce tunes to keep our souls nourished.

If you are not familiar with Lettuce it’s time to reap their harvest. Lettuce is a solid, long standing Boston grown band. Their sound is primarily a jazzy, funk fusion that mixes in soul, hip hop, psychedelic, jam while pushing the existing boundaries through experimentalism. Influences of Lettuce include Herbie Hancock as well as Earth, Wind and Fire. I also hear similarities between renowned Dr. John and Booker T. Jones and bands like Brass Construction, Addison Groove Project, Snarky Puppy and The Congress. Lettuce has earned a ‘Grade A’ reputation as a prolific, ensemble group, including a Grammy-nomination. (I know the rating is actually for eggs and diary, not produce. Please go with it. I am really enjoying my produce theme.)

“NDUGU” is the new single off the “Resonate” record. It is jazzy enough to be perfect background while I’m stuck working from home but still funky with its unorthodox and unique instrumentals. The song is unpredictable which makes it exciting. The start is reminiscent of the soul and funk-styled theme from “Shaft” written and recorded by Isaac Hayes. In the movie, a mobster hires Shaft to rescue his daughter who has been kidnapped. Well, like Shaft, I have to be brave to complete my only other responsibility now that we are ‘staying safe at home’. Weekly, I must tackle the grocery store. Homemade gloves of plastic bags, armed with Clorox wipes and a lethal amount of hand sanitizer I played “NDUGU” loudly in my car, psyching myself up. (I skipped the tin foil hat. Although if this keeps going on, it’s coming out. If this isn’t the time to wear it, when is?) I only live three minutes from my market. This is perfect as by the time I arrived, the song is about to jump into a new section. I shopped quickly and then returned to my vehicle. I’m now at the bridge described by Adam Deitch, Lettuce drummer as “a snake charmer vibe.” Yeah, that’s right. The music matches my euphoric, trance like state as I silently celebrate making it out of the over-priced grocery store safely. Leaving the parking lot, “NDUGU” mirrors the song’s beginning with its super cool and almost superhero vibe. Tweaking the “Shaft” theme, I created some of my own lyrics to accompany the “NDUGU” instrumental track. Cocky, I sang,

Who’s the market, slayer gal?

“That’s a sex machine to all the” dicks? (Nic)

“You’re damn right.”

Who is the gal that would chance her health for her mother, dear? (Nic)

“Can ya dig it?”

Who’s the chick that won’t freak out when there’s Coronavirus all about? (Nic)

“Right on”

You see this gal Nic, she’s a brave ass bitch. (“Shut your mouth.”)

“But I’m talkin’ about” Nic. (“Then we can dig it.”)

She’s a courageous gal who can take the market down. (Nic)

Lettuce has some many varieties. You can choose from Romaine, Iceberg, Arugula, even, but I don’t get it, Endive or Radicchio. If “NDUGU” is any indication of the “Resonate” album, you’ll have so many new Lettuce songs to fall in love with, just like the produce. Bon Appétit!

(Note:  I recognize my review may have strayed into the super strange. Remember, I’m on day six of isolation. If Grateful Web continues to let me write, fair warning, I’m sure my contributions will get a bit funkier.)

COVID-19 has created immense distress worldwide. My chest is tight, there are moments when my right eye feels like it’s on the verge of twitching and sounds are sometimes muffled as hearing sensitivities can be associated with high levels of stress. I haven’t felt this type of unease since my partner committed suicide. Wow! I know you are all thinking, did she really just divulge something this deeply personal? I did. And now you are thinking why, and does this have anything to do with Michelle Mandico’s new music video called “Ptarmigan?” Bear with me. It does.

Mandico wrote “Ptarmigan” in 2015 on Christmas Day after skiing the pristine slopes of Loveland Pass, Colorado. She primarily used the ski lift called Ptarmigan, named after a cold climate bird that wears two types of camouflage. It’s white in the snowy winter and mottled brown/gray in the summer to blend with the tundra. Obviously the change in feather color is critical for the grouse’s survival. Associating Mandico’s own life experience during a particularly rough period where she moved from a place of darkness to light, like the ptarmigan’s plumage, the song was born.

“Ptarmigan” is melancholic yet still enchants the listener. The chorus is my favorite because it is the perfect crescendo that leads to the song’s climax. It also quite nicely mimics the video. The climax is the mountain peaks being kissed by the crisp, blue sky. The crescendo is the powdery, deserted slopes flanked by pine trees dripping with freshly fallen snow. Mandico increases her intensity. Her ethereal voice reverberates, “Drop me on the highest peak, with nothing but a word to speak. The air is thinning quick, like a pack of cigarettes. I’m alone again. A lone wolf again. I’m a ptarmigan. In my mountain home.”

This is totally cliché, but Mandico is a songbird. Not only in “Ptarmigan” but in all her music. She constructs Indie melodies with strong folk/country influences. I hear similarities between Joni Mitchell, Brandi Carlile, Jewel, Sarah McLachlan, and Sara Bareilles. Each Mandico tune is absolutely beautiful.

“Ptarmigan” was written long before COVID-19 but both the song and new video are fitting for this uncertain and scary time. Mandico is sharing an important message about revealing our true feelings surrounding our own mental health. Through “Ptarmigan” Mandico exposes herself. So, this brings us back to why I revealed raw parts of me, both my emotional reactions to COVID-19 and how it is triggering memories of my partner’s suicide. I did it because, like Mandico’s song, it is healing to be vulnerable. It enables us to connect and now more than ever we so need to unite. (Just remember do it safely, 6 feet apart.) It normalizes difficult emotions which often are considered taboo and creates more understanding of our shared experiences. Speak up. Be real. Get support when you need it. Mandico, thank you for illustrating these critically important messages through your music.

Kendl Winter and Palmer T. Lee of The Lowest Pair have a model, musical partnership. Right now this makes me very jealous. I’m ‘staying safe at home,’ sadly don’t have a quaran-team and am very single which has been my state of being for far too long. Clearly the universe doesn’t want me, or any single person, to have love or sex again. (Although if I were to have sex, this would be a great time. Most people are social distancing or in total isolation, taking safe sex to an entirely new level.) I guess in the meantime, I’ll have to pine for what The Lowest Pair have created. FYI…They are not a romantic couple, but rather a Washington-based, indie folk band which has released a new album, “The Perfect Plan.” (Of course, this is what it is called. Obviously to go with their perfect duo. Don’t rub it in Winter and Lee.)

“The Perfect Plan” is the duet’s sixth record. It’s an earthy, gritty, dynamic 10-song track. Their voices play on each other’s strengths, complimenting each other to the fullest. Winter’s sound is unique. As the team’s lead vocalist she masters a wide range, moving from sweet to a penetrating rasp. I dig the gravely but still creaky nature of her tone. Each note is captivating. Then there is Lee. He doesn’t disappoint. He is clear, strong and balanced. Lee flexes his voice to blend with Winter. His power rings strong as he takes the reigns in “Enemy of Ease.” The band is touting “Wild Animals” as the LP’s preeminent track. Don’t get me wrong, it’s phenomenal. Winter is the breathy roller-coaster while Lee is well paced metronome. Yet my favorites and maybe because I have love on my mind are, “How Far I Would Go,” “Too Late Babe,” “Cast Away” and “We Are Bleeding.” I am listing a ton of their tunes and these are just my standouts. The rest are equally masterful.

It not just the lyrics and vocals that make The Lowest Pair shine. They both expertly play banjo and the acoustic guitar. The instrumentals dare to overtake Winter and Lee’s voices. Of course they don’t because The Lowest Pair know how to create the precise musical recipe. I am a sucker for string instruments. A college boyfriend played anything with a string. I would lounge on my filthy, Good Will, tacky, abstract print couch late into the night as he tinkered away. His music acting as a soothing lullaby, I often fell asleep. The Lowest Pair, with their intrinsic talent, put me in the same mode. (Although, right now, I could do without the reminder of that expired relationship.) The band’s powerful yet soothing unconventionality draws you in to their enchanting, melodic web.

Winter and Lee are the perfect combination. They just work. For me, on the other hand, partnership clearly must wait. It’s okay. Probably, a good thing since at this point I would scare away a potential lover. My hair is an absolute disaster without its professional color every four weeks. I’m working 12+ hours a day to get systems into place for my now remote team. (I thought working from home would be fun. Wrong. I have never worked so hard in my life so I feel and look exhausted.) I’m eating all my rationed carbs. Once we are allowed out in the world I literally will not be able to fit through the door. Again, Winter and Lee aren’t a romantic couple, but I want what their music represents and delivers. It showcases connection, passion, synergy, even a sexiness. Enjoy the musical orgasm!

I need a play list that captures my mood. It’s mostly dark, perplexed and chaotic but sometimes there are much needed glimmers of inspiration. I have so many questions. Is this really our plight? Will it ever end? How will humanity change? With this rapidly, unfolding uncertainty, I can’t do light and surface. Good old rock or pop, my normal go-tos, definitely will not work. I’m craving gritty and real. I need Grant Dermody and his new album, “My Dony.” It primarily blues but there are touches of gospel with the dominant vocals and simple, yet never boring arrangements. This is the soundtrack to get me through this extraordinarily tough time.

Blues has a deep and difficult history originating in the south. African American slaves developed the music pulling from chants, hymns and spirituals which illustrates its strong connect to gospel. Blues started in the fields and on porches, was taken into prisons and eventually found its way into bars as well as sophisticated clubs. Blues fits in anywhere because it is relatable. It is the music of injustice, despair, mourning, longing, desire, even pleasure.

I provided a snap shot of the genre but I will not pretend to be an expert. I am not even an avid listener. So why am I writing this review? I have a few things going for me in regards to the style. First, and this may be surprising considering my Jewish last name; I have southern roots. My grandmother and great Cookie Grandmom, (that’s what we called her) grew up in Pace, Mississippi. I feel like I’m drawn to this music and get it because its’ part of my DNA. Second, I am under COVID-19, house arrest. (I don’t mean this to be disparaging or insensitive. Humor is how I cope.) Therefore, I am truly living the blues in my current, imprisonment. I feel injustice, despair, mourning, lounging, desire and even moments of pleasure. Finally, I am writing this as I have excellent taste. I know what sounds good and that’s Dermody and his album, “My Dony.”  

Dermody’s thirteen song record took me on a journey. Restricted to home, desperately craving my old life, I, for one, need a trip. “Morning Train” is one of my favorites. I love the New Orleans influence, hearing traditional zydeco which blends Creole, Afro-Caribbean, gospel and of course the blues. Dermody instantly transported me to the French Quarter, walking around on a muggy, summer day, stopping to listen to the countless street musicians. “Great Change,” probably the strongest gospel tune on the LP is interesting for today. I applied the lyrics to how this experience will be a ‘great change’ for all of us. Things will of course be different, but maybe, we will evaluate the ways we behave, hopefully moving in a more positive light. Perhaps even rise up and do better. Stuck at home, barely time to walk ‘the yard,’ aka my neighborhood, “Come on Sunshine” pulled me in with its enticing title. The tune’s meditative lines spoke to me with their soothing repetition. “Come on sunshine. Come on sunshine. Wake up my mind. Oh, wake up my mind. Melt the fog off. Melt the fog off. And the clouds away. Give me sweet peace of mind. I can’t waste no more time. I just follow, that line, where you lead me.”

You feel Dermody and his assembles commitment, joy and passion in each track. The vocals are smoky, sometime brusque yet strangely comforting and reassuring. The harmonica warms your soul with the right amount of intensity. It is an instrument where the sounds are influenced by the performers own vocal chords contributing to making the music relevant. The drum is of course the heartbeat. I also think I hear a tambourine which just adds to the overall magic. Dermody’s talents are undeniable.

Dermody’s album perfectly compliments my mood. It speaks to my strife. It acknowledges my confusion and it even celebrates moments of hope. There is an interesting tenet of blues. It is the idea that by exposing human experiences through the creation, performance as well as even the act of listening to the music the intense feelings will be better managed. Dermody does this well. It’s my playlist when I’m escaping my confines to enjoy a few hours of light. It is the soothing background to keep me from climbing my walls. It allows me to remise of and voyage to better times. For me his album was relatable providing necessary understanding and inner strength. I hope you find the same.  

Horror movie worthy experiences and lots of therapy have helped me to gain very valuable perspectives on life including how to self-sooth and be on my own. For many this will be a trying time with introspection occurring on monumental levels. Some people have it down already. Others are in the midst of learning how to be with themselves. Many are struggling to find inner peace and sadly will spiral further and further out of control, if a solution is not uncovered. For those dealing with the latter, here’s some tough love. It’s time to pull yourself together and discover your form of relief. I’m lucky I have many outlets; reading, writing, dancing, running and of course music. As a reader of Grateful Web I presume music does it for you too. Harness its’ power. Start exploring new artists. Here’s a head-start. Give Rachel Garlin’s new album “Mondegreens” a spin.

Garlin’s voice is sweet. Her lyrics are soothing yet deep illustrating beautiful, unfolding stories. Just listen and you will be entertained for hours. Again, if filling time or just being is extraordinarily difficult listening and interpreting music can be an excellent activity. For example, title track, “Mondegreens” brought me immense joy as well as laughter, even though the song’s message is quite transformational. A mondegreen is a misunderstood or misinterpreted word or phrase resulting from mishearing a song lyric. I didn’t know there was an actual term for this commonality. I am a mondegreen culprit. One of my first records (and I mean an analog, sound storage mechanism in the form of a vinyl, shiny black disc with inscribed, modulated spiral grooves), was Flashdance. “What a Feeling” has the lines, “Take your passion. And make it happen.” I would dance around my childhood bedroom at the age of nine, squealing (as I have a horrendous voice), “Take your pants off and make it happen.” I’m sure my parents got the biggest kick out of that ridiculousness. Garlin uses the “Mondegreens” title brilliantly. She is imparting the wrong turns in life or the mondegreens takes you to the right place. The chorus is poetic. “Sometimes life is funny, it’s not what it seems. And when the words cannot be made out. You make up your mondegreens. And you may not know the difference. And sing the wrong words for your whole life. Maybe the wrong words, the wrong turns, the long way. Leads to the light.”

“Good Morning” is playful but has a greater meaning than its’ sing-songy, almost nursery rhyme tone. Garlin wrote the tune being moved by a friend’s tradition of using silverware to write birthday messages on their dining room table. The song’s essence is family love. I particularly relished the lyrics which close the melody, “It’s not about regretting, but I wasted time. It’s not about apologies, but you have mine. Good morning, good morning to you.” Her voice in this song as well as the others on the album remind me of folk divas Joan Baez and Judy Collins. For a more modern artist, Garlin has a similar sound to Ingrid Michaelson.

Each of Garlin’s nine original tracks are creative and well-crafted. Yet, it was a pleasant surprise to find the Don Henley, “Boys of Summer” cover. It was light-hearted considering the rest of the record but still in Garlin’s style, more subdued than the Henley classic. The song is also a great nod to Grateful Web with its’ famous line, “Out on the road today, I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac.”

Did this distract you? Were you able to retreat inside yourself? Did you feel okay in that space? You have the strength. It may be buried deep inside, but it’s there. This intense time will pass and hopefully, you will look back and see how it positively changed you. How you did the work. You were forced to find what makes you fight on and then just be. Garlin’s record can be a tool on your path of self-reflection and discovery. Take a listen and thrive.

The future changed in a blink of an eye, especially around dating. Instead of sunset rides on BIRDs, we will roll the walkways in our human, hamster bubbles, safely keeping our distance. There will be absolutely no kissing, touching or holding until we have established a true and sustained liking for one another. For many, the now required face mask will hide best features like a smile, white teeth or high cheek bones, diminishing our chances further. (As if it truly wasn’t hard enough already.) Perhaps unveiling, if we are lucky to get that far, will accompany the three date, sex expectation. I can only speculate what our romantic futures hold. In early April, Mara Connor released her debut EP, “No Fun.” Her four tracks and two music videos taunt me with happy memories of how things were, even with its laments on love. It’s quite telling, illustrating how much I am craving normal activities, including the heartbreak.

Connor’s title track’s music video, “No Fun” is contrary to its name. It’s so fun with its Los Angeles scenic-scapes such as a typical pool party on a summer’s day, brightly colored bowling alley, deserted lot transformed into weekend skate park and classic, 1960’s, powder blue convertible. I concede the subject matter of the song is full of angst, yet I would gladly step into those video scenes which represent distant memories of the status quo. I enjoyed the song’s feminist close with Connor’s characters; the pool party gal, slick bowler, teenage wallflower and skater chick, realizing they don’t need the boy that broke their heart to be okay.

“Wildfire” is my favorite Connor tune from this album. If I had the power it would be playing on your favorite, pop, radio stations. I can’t stop humming it. Forewarning, the video is quite quirky. Please, keep in mind, this assessment is coming from Miss Quirky herself. It creatively illustrates its intended meaning that most boyfriends are ultimately ‘dummies’ while the catchy song arrests you heart. Connor also cleverly connects her title track to “Wildfire” and not just by paying homage to her native LA by using the term, ‘Devil Winds’ to reference our hot, Santa Ana gusts that blow into the city late October. At the end of the song, she turns her back on her current beau and then, deeper in the closest you see an ex-‘dummy,’ wearing a “No Fun” t-shirt. Obviously, as illuminated in “No Fun,” this mate has been tossed aside too. The tune is compelling. The drums build perfectly providing the needed intensity to tell the story, while the guitar strumming offer a steady reminder of what is inevitable. “Baby you’re a wildfire, baby you’re a wildfire. I don’t’ want to let you die. I want to watch you grow higher and higher and higher. I don’t want to let you die.”

“Yellow Eyes” comes in second as my favorite track. It’s another empowerment song. The chorus could be my new anthem, “Now it’s time, I get to going. Now it’s time, I get to find my own way. And, I leave you lonely. I leave you lonely.” The chords of the electric guitar compliment the chorus forcing you to realize the importance of putting yourself first. Connor nails it, I don’t need to be “a prisoner to everyone I loved,” finishing with, “I leave you lonely.” Bam! You tell it girl!

Connor appears young, maybe in her late 20’s, early 30’s tops, but her voice is mature. Currently she has a strong pop presence. Over time I predict her voice will develop into something sultrier and even more intense. Connors range could also move beyond pop to country, alternative or folk. There are many musical options for this young starlet.

While listening and watching Connor I was able to day dream. It was nice! We all know it’s going to be really different. There will be some changes that are harder to accept. (I’m struggling with the mask.) Yet, there may be some adaptions that are exciting. Courting may revert back to a sweeter, more innocent time. People may value connection better. I think love will become stronger. Until then I’ll use Connor to reminisce, to wonder and even hope.

When the opportunity to write about Gospel Book Revisited’s new album, “Morning Songs & Midnight Lullabies” presented itself, I jumped. I didn’t do this because I was familiar with the band or read positive reviews. I didn’t even take a listen which is quite out of character. I said yes for the sole reason the group originates from Italy. My heart is hurting for the entire world but our Italian friends are suffering exponentially. I wanted to give them a bit more love. Luckily, my leap of faith and tender-heart paid off as Gospel Book Revisited happens to be extraordinarily talented.

The band is a mixture of everything yummy. It’s alternative rock with a bit of funk. There are notes of jazz, blues, gospel and country. “Shine and Burn” has strong, synthesized guitar riffs screaming its unconventionality while “Mine” has a jazzy vibe. It’s hard to pinpoint the style of “Hard Mama” as its eclectic but blues stands out with is more mysterious vocals and the bass cameo. “The Key” has a gospel tone, especially with its simple story telling and clapping choir sounds. “Fireflies and Butterflies” is full blown country. With all these styles you may question, can they really pull it off? Gospel Book Revisited provides an extensive menu of options (eleven total songs) with all the genres performed perfectly. Each tune teases you with a new delicious sound and an alternate sense. I promise you it’s nothing like the chain restaurant HomeTown Buffet which gets nothing right offering a nauseating array of pizza to sushi.

There are two music videos that complement Gospel Book Revisited’s record. “Stones in My Pocket” is an upbeat and sweet tune. The chorus makes me smile. “I have stones in my pocket, but you lift up. Stones in my pocket, but you lift me up. Only you can lift me up. Only you.” I think the band, which is made up of Camilla Maina (Vocals), Umberto Poli (Guitar), Gianfranco Nasso (Bass) and Samuel Napoli (Drums), are referring to their relationship, especially since at the end of the video the puzzle comes together with all of their images. We all should be so lucky to have someone or a group of people that lift us up. “Mine” is the other video. I’m not quite sure what the video or song are trying to impart. I have some theories. Charles Bukowski’s book, Post Office is featured. The protagonist had periods of unemployment, uninspiring stints with the Post Office, gambled as well as drank to excess and was vulgar, misogynistic and antisocial. Even with all these trials and terrible traits, somehow everything ended up just fine. “Mine” repeats the lyrics, “Everything is going to be fine.” Maybe this song is portraying their music trajectory will also be fine, especially since the Polaroid pictures come to life illustrating the group at different shows. The “Mine” title also symbolizes everything will be fine, translating into everything will be mine. Perhaps the song is simpler than that. This is just my interpretation. Regardless, I guarantee everything will be better than fine for them as Gospel Book Revisited has immense potential.

Our world has been hard hit. The impact will be unrecognizable and effects long-lasting. Yet, I promise there will be silver linings. Through pain and sorrow extraordinary beauty is often born. The painter and forefather of expressionism, Edvard Munch, author and Nobel Prize winner in literature, Rudyard Kipling and prolific composer, Ludwig van Beethoven were all influenced by tragedies. Creativity, like in these examples, will flourish in the next few years. I plan on using Gospel Book Revisited’s current, musical masterpiece, “Morning Songs & Midnight Lullabies” to spark my creativity as I need to finish my book. I also know we will see continued greatness from the band especially in light of what is happening across our globe. I’m excited to hear what’s next for Gospel Book Revisited. In the meantime, let’s shout out our praise and toast Gospel Book Revisited with a glass of Chianti. Bravo! Saluti!

I saw the words meditation and yoga in the body of the email regarding Joss Jaffe. My urge was to delete it, having a visceral dislike for the practices. Two things a native Angeleno, blonde gal should keep to herself unless she’s okay with being shunned from her bougie community. I’m a contradiction. I don’t care that meditation and yoga expands the mind and are good for the soul. In these capacities, they make me want to crawl out of my skin. Yet, when I have a massage, go to acupuncture or get a facial, I love the calming, tribal-like, hypnotic tracks. (I warned you. I’m bougie.) Life being on pause, I can’t partake in any of my extravagant, pampering activities but listening to Jaffe provided exactly what I needed. His tracks also greatly surprised me, varying in musical styles. Through his songs, I received an important spiritual reminder, was transported to a tropical holiday and ended my day at a serene spa.

In late April, Jaffe released three singles. “Traveller” and “Play It Again” include accompanying music videos filmed in Soul Korea. “Traveller” is set in a hip coffee shop/bar. The song is captivating with memorable lyrics. The trancy, trip hop, jam-band and electronica sounds are more prominent but the classic influences of Indian music for which Jaffe has been trained are present. At first listen, you may not catch the underlying meaning too absorbed by the ambient beats but, the track is deep. It’s a nuanced reminder you are just a “Traveller” on life’s journey. “Only got so much time. Living life on this earth. Like a seed germinates in the earth.” Maybe the tune resonated more now as everyone’s mortality is currently on the line. “Play It Again” is a love song with strong reggae, pop and hip hop rhythms. The quick drum beats underneath the rapping from both Jaffe and guest, feature Kiyoshi give the tune an easy going, vibe. The style of “Play It Again” speaks to me the most. Anything that shouts Marley is usually my favorite.

“Natural Rhythms” is mantra-like and the most new agey of the three songs. My already active imagination is triggered. I picture the quintessential, modern hippie couple. He’s lanky, bare chested with a misshapen crystal hanging from a leather band around his neck and of course is wearing pricey Birkenstocks. Remember they are contemporary hippies. She’s vegan, teaches yoga at least five times daily and has a shaman who reads her auras as well as adjusts her chakras. He is doe-eyed when he gazes at his magnetic, ‘flower child.’ She has him wrapped around her finger. The song describes the pull of that special person with the lyrics, “Natural, mystical, magical, vibrational. It turns me on.”

I’m embarrassed! I was reactive when I received the email, almost passing on Jaffe. That would have been a terrible mistake. Jaffe is a superb artist. He reminds me of a unique blend of Neil Young, Tom Waits, Jack Johnson and Jason Mraz. He is able to mix a range of styles creating a number of sensations. Writing mid-morning in my dining room, “Traveller” messaged both the beauty and fleetingness of life. It’s critical to appreciate every, darn moment because no one knows what the future holds. Late afternoon, sitting in my patio, during our April heatwave, drinking a refreshing cocktail of lemons, limes and a splash of Tito’s, “Play It Again” helped to produce a vacation-like state. Early evening zening out my living room with scented candles, trashy magazines and “Natural Rhythms” in the background, I created my own tranquil retreat. I know meditation and yoga have proven transformational effects. These activities, although excellent, will never be for me. Luckily, I found Jaffe.

Without question it has been a rough few months, but things are turning around. Kory Quinn & Co. released their new record, “The Blueroom.” See; it is a very promising start to May. Quinn’s music is absolutely spellbinding. His vocals are seasoned and solid yet still tender. The entire band have a breathtaking command over the genre. It’s as if they have been playing together for the past fifty years. Even as they tackle gritty subject matter, there is a free-spiritedness in the music. I had the amazing opportunity to chat with Quinn. What an absolute delight. Our conversation was as multifaceted as his music.

“Blue Mountain Blues” sets the stage for the entire record. The gentle guitar introduces the melody. A strong harmonica chimes in next. The accompanying instruments grow quiet letting Quinn take over the tune just momentarily to introduce the lyrics before the entire group comes together in pure synchronicity. I asked about the meaning behind the song. Quinn shared for him The Blue Mountains, a series of ranges, uplands and valleys in the northeastern part of Oregon and extending into southeastern Washington are a “gateway to a special place.” The tune is a tribute to his friends and family in the area. For Quinn, “It was a formidable period of time. All these people made me. The song is for them.”

Quinn has a reputation for exploring complex topics through his music. Not everyone is drawn to telling a bigger story. It takes a special person not just to create beautiful music, but see the importance of using their talents to spread vital messages. From their titles, “Only A Hobo” and “OxyContin” are the obvious statement songs on this album. Yet, “Stealin’” and the band’s original, “Dead Man’s Son” also impart crucial testimonials. Quinn shared it is important to write songs with greater significance, “Because those (stories) are the people who don’t have a voice.” We dived deeper, Quinn conveying, “A song like ‘Hobo’ is needed because those people are lost.” Quinn is in tune not only with the creation of remarkable music but with the greater world. Discussing our current situation, Quinn is vocal. “The homeless are the greatest concern. People will not have jobs, homes. That song is the potential outcome that lays in everyone’s future. How are we, as a country, going to get together and rally? I hope the song makes people reach out and help each other when they can. We need a deep sense of charity to get us through.”

The band recorded a Zoom-style session of “Stealin’” to accompany the new record. The song choice was influenced by Joe Suskind, lead guitarist whose mother used it as a lullaby. (What a cool mum!) The impact of the Grateful Dead wasn’t just on Suskind, but Quinn too. He told a lovely story about how his “dad is a funny influence.” At his baptism his father arranged for the church choir to play “Uncle John’s Band.” It’s no wonder, these musicians turned out the way they have, being exposed to incredible music so early in life. Releasing the video using Zoom was purposeful. Again, Quinn illustrates his social consciousness. “We are all reliant on technology, especially now.” “Stealin’ is a song about “a guy down on his luck.” It’s an interesting “juxtaposition because not everyone has technology.” Quinn is spot on. The sad reality is not everyone has access due to the socio-economic divide. The meaning is poignant, yet Kory Quinn & Co. are more than just messaging. Each song brings the band’s special touch. Their depiction of this tune is unadulterated energy. There is also a flirty, sultriness that prompted a spontaneous dance party in my kitchen. (You are welcome neighbors!)

“Bound For Glory” is my favorite track. It is blues with a touch of country, but the gospel intonation is strong. I’m not religious. My parents didn’t know what to do with my sister and me when it came to this aspect of humanity. My dad grew up Jewish. My mom is Anglican. It’s not like we don’t have morals, ethics and convictions. We were taught the basic principles, just without the idea of ‘God.’ Obviously, the values are critically important and have shaped the down-to-earth, socially aware person I have become. Nevertheless, lacking the foundation of religion, I have come to define it and I know this will be offensive to many, as purely gift giving, food, time with family and of course music. Interestingly, the more religious the music is, the better I like it. "O Come, All Ye Faithful" or “Down to the River to Pray” gives you a taste of my palate. It’s no surprise then, that I was captivated by “Bound For Glory” from its down home instrumentals, simple story telling which jumps to a powerful, (what I consider a super religious) chorus, “Well, I’m still bound for glory, glory. And I’m still bound for glory. Yes, I’m still bound for glory. Glory, glory, glory, hallelujah. Glory, glory, glory, hallelujah.” (On a side note, a song that uses ‘hallelujah’ just hugs my internal spirit.)

I was heading down a particular path with my version of “Bound For Glory,” getting caught up with religion and what it means to me personally. So, absorbed in this, I asked Quinn why religion was incorporated into the tune. I learned the song was actually influenced by Woody Guthrie’s autobiography by the same name. The book details his vibrant life, but the song focuses on Guthrie’s grandmother who Quinn highlighted was hard working, knew right from wrong and was charitable. “It’s a character song. We need to be the light for others.” Although I diverted, my initial reaction to the song was actually correct. It goes back to the essence of critical tenets of religion.

Quinn’s music is compelling. It feeds your soul with tantalizing sounds and good vibrations. Finding a band that accomplishes this in every track is like striking gold. Yet, I was pulled to them even more learning about their commitment to the greater good. I was struck by Quinn’s genuine, authentic nature. I ended our conversation asking what Quinn would like his music to accomplish. Simply, he said, “I hope my music sheds some light for people to come together. Showing what it means to be human in this world.” I hope we all heed Quinn, “We need the spirit of honesty, earnestness and charity.”

Here in LA; it’s hot! The usual May, grey days have disappeared, with summer clearly wooing us, even though we have nowhere to go. Some of my fondest memories are sticky, Sunday nights heading to Club 70’s to dance the night away in white, go-go boots with a vintage, brightly patterned miniskirt and complimenting mid-drift tee. I was only seventeen. We would pack into my VW convertible or borrow one of our dad’s fancy, mid-life crisis’ vehicles to shuttle ourselves to Hollywood. The windows were down and popular 90’s music was blaring. The atmosphere sufficiently captured an ideal, teenage girl’s night out. The minute I played Shira Elias, who is debuting her EP, “GOODS,” visions of that crowded club, smells of the smoked filled air and the fruity, fake taste of JOLLY RANCHER candy on the lips of that random boy I kissed, attacked my senses.

Elias has been part of the successful, assemble, funk band, Turkuaz. Heading out on her own, Elias’ debut album will be available late May. I didn’t listen to the tracks in order. I started with “Nah.” For me it’s the record’s standout. This is the song you play once all the girls are in the car and you’re cruising down Sunset Blvd., almost to your evening venue. It’s the, ‘get you in the mood,’ feel good anthem. The tune exudes ultimate coolness as well as newly found confidence as the lyrics focus on no longer being impacted by other people’s issues and realizing, “It ain't about you.” It’s funky like her Turkuaz roots with a modern disco vibe. I hear influences of Amii Stewart’s, “Knock on Wood,” and “I’m Coming Out” by Diana Ross. “Tonight” is the tune I would choose to make our grand entrance when strutting into the club, already hearing the rally cry, chirp of the excited patrons. The song’s vibe is energetic. Again, Elias brings confidence as well as a sexiness, especially with the mid-way saxophone solo. The remaining four songs lean on strong R&B melodies with touches of soul and pop. They all are full of heart. Her voice is lush with fervent intensity and vocal embellishments. Elias is a modern day Mariah Carey or Mary J. Blige. Groups such as All Saints and Xscape also trigger my mind while listening to Elias.

When the night drew to a close, still sweaty from all the dancing, tingling from head to foot after that magical kiss, feeling elated but exhausted, the girls quiet in their own contemplation, we made our way home. Speeding down the boulevards, I observed the male prostitutes waiting for their next trick. I watched through the window as the clubs emptied out, filling the streets with drunk, rowdy groups and I noticed a tattered, homeless man sleeping on a bus stop. A song like “Vulnerability” is playing in the background. It has a ghostly beginning to match our state. The ambient tune teases our sleepy souls, but then, Elias voice challenges us, with perfect high notes and the band’s accompaniments of rhythmic force and concentration. The last girl is dropped off as the song comes to a close; Elias’ little giggle putting a sassy stamp on the night.

It felt amazing to reminisce, thinking of those special summers. I wish hitting the clubs weren’t such a far off reality. In the meantime, I will relish the memories Elias provoked and use her tunes to create my own dance party.

Nahko And Medicine For The People released their new album “Take Your Power Back.” Nahko’s hard exterior, covered in powerful, tribal tattoos that flatter his muscular build are entrancing. He also sports a nasal, septum ring. It is sexy while still a tad aggressive. I have always been a big fan of Nahko’s music, but would I have judged him, if I only saw his image? Perhaps I would assume his look would correlate with an unpleasant harshness, instead of beauty, vulnerability, vocal complexities, and relevant, broader messaging focusing on the greater good. Judgement is rampant. As a society we critique others for how they look, what they believe, the actions they take, even how they present themselves. When we do this, we tear each other apart, causing extreme harm. I despise this behavior. For me, “Take Your Power Back” profoundly exposed the theme of judgement. Enjoying all eighteen tracks, multiple times to get a full breadth of the music, I am positive this wasn’t necessarily the intended message. Nevertheless, the LP provided me depth, personal reflection, growth, and gratitude. (I can imagine eye rolling, already finding faults in my touchy feely writing.)

The album’s opener, “Direcciones Taino” sounds Hawaiian. Upon deeper investigation, Taino is a reference to the indigenous people who lived in the Bahamas, Cuba, Jamaica, Hispaniola and Puerto Rico pre-Christopher Columbus. “Healing Song’ sounds Native American. “Defend the Sacred (Ilocano Welcome Chant)” is referencing the Ilocano people who inhabit Luzon in the Philippines. There are five of these special interludes, prayers, spoken words or chants dispersed across the record. The purpose seems twofold. They are a nod to Nahko who is a beautiful mixture of Puerto Rican, Native American and Filipino. They also signify the band’s connection to meaningful causes, protecting and preserving both the planet and its people, which are highlighted throughout the album. (Instead of scrutinizing why these unusual, perhaps even quirky pieces, are incorporated, let’s rather, recognize the celebration of ethnicity and mission driven philosophes that makes this compilation even sweeter. I must say, the overwhelming negativity is a downer. Again, this is just my perspective. There’s no need to be critical.)

Nahko’s range is tantalizing. Each song surprised me with a new but completely mastered style. Modern folk is depicted in “Lifeguard” and “Slow Down.” Immediately I thought of Ben Harper and Xavier Rudd when I heard “Give It All” with its effortless guitar riffs, pointed lyrics and stripped-down vocals. Want contemporary R&B? Take a listen to “Dear Brother.” Feeling in the mood for a laid back, Caribbean holiday tune. “Bend Like The Willow” has reggae and pop melodies with a glimmer of Calypso. You can hear the blissful rhythm of the drums swirling among horns, while shakers and a cheeky tambourine compliment the upbeat percussion. (I have no idea if there are actually shakers or a tambourine. This is the vision I conjure hearing such a seemingly playful song. The snicker is not necessary. Don’t attack my viewpoint.) The record’s title track, “Take Your Power Back” has funk, hip hop, and even disco influences. It’s intense, starting with a forceful rant. The marching band-like instrumentals lay the foundation while rap and choir segue are peppered throughout. “Honor The Earth” is a deep. Why, then, does the underlying world beats and Nahko’s voice remind me so much of Justin Bieber? Of course, Nahko And Medicine For The People blow Bieber out of the water. Yet, there are similarities to “What Do You Mean?” or “Love Yourself.” (I’m sorry for the comparison! No. I’m actually not. This is my review. I can feel whatever way I would like without denigration.)

In the live, acoustic video of “Part Problem” Nahko’s plays piano with a gentleness. The track is vulnerable and authentic. I can’t help that the music and Nahko’s demeanor are so attractive, that I crave his hands all over me. (Head shaking is rude. Stopping judging! We all have needs.) I was stimulated not just physically, but emotionally too as the song led me down a winding road, allowing me to create personal meaning as I meandered. My partner and I were both part of the problem. He didn’t see that. Nahko’s opening lyrics defined the commencement of our relationship’s demise. “What did you think this would be easy love? There ain’t no easy love. No, no. Oh beloved, what’d I do to us? How could have I lost touch?” My love definitely lost touch. “Somewhere along the line, I got disconnected started losing perspective, I know.” He left this world tragically, unable to accept or see his piece in the puzzle. Unfortunately, he blamed and judged me. He seethed nasty, belittling critiques that are so commonplace versus, “I’ll admit that I am part of the problem. Part of the problem. I’ll admit that I am part of the problem. Part of the problem.”

Aren’t we taught not to judge a book by its cover? For my biblical friends, Matthew 7:12, from the English Standard Version states, “So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.” Or let’s pull from a common child’s chant, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me.” Why have we forgotten these simple lessons? Limiting judgement is extraordinarily important, especially now, when what we really need is unconditional love, kindness and support. I have always struggled with being judged but I’m experiencing more than usual for my decisions on how I choose to stay safe. Nahko And Medicine For The People’s inspiring music, provided a poignant reminder. I’m not going to care how you mistake me. There will be no more apprehension for just being me. I won’t accept condemnation. I think Nahko And Medicine For The People are telling us, this is the moment to live better, “Take Your Power Back.”

Steve Forbert’s latest cover and accompanying video of the Grateful Dead’s “Box of Rain” is a timely release considering our shared experience surrounding COVID-19. This monumental song originated with one of the Dead’s founding members, Phil Lesh, composing the music, while Robert ‘Bob’ Hunter wrote the lyrics. Lesh came to identify the song with his dying father. He would practice singing as he drove to the hospital and later the nursing home. Death surrounds us. Our nation is about to realize 100,000 deaths due to COVID-19. When I facilitated support groups for cancer patients, my supervisor shared a critically important tidbit. In group, but also in day-to-day interactions, death, sex (intimacy) and money are subjects people don’t discuss candidly. They are taboo. To have good groups as well as meaningful relationships these topics need to be explored and discussed honestly. Music has never shied away from life’s complexities. It exposes them quite brilliantly actually. Forbert’s remake of “Box of Rain,” an epic song, marks this historic tragedy.

Forbert obviously did his homework, mimicking Lesh’s difficult journey in the video. It is a lovely tribute. Forbert’s rendition is also well sung. His version is twangier than the Dead’s original, giving it a classic country feel versus an equal mixture of folk and country. Forbert tune is slightly slower paced yet the notes are elongated. Forbert also provides a solo version differing from his precursors. Without the addition of background singers, the song takes a slightly sadder tone, really showcasing its deeper meaning. I tear up as the lyrics capture my unfathomable sorrow. “Walk into splintered sunlight. Inch your way through dead dreams to another land. Maybe you're tired and broken. Your tongue is twisted with words half spoken and thoughts unclear. What do you want me to do, to do for you, to see you through?” As the ones still here, we must, “do for you, to see you through” by ensuring needless pandemic deaths do not occur.

“American Beauty” was my entrée to the Dead. Their music continues to shape my life; it is what I listen to during both good and bad times. Forbert’s cover of “Box of Rain” was welcomed, re-inciting attention to this classic tune, with its underlying purpose. I will use it to manage my intense pain and sadness as staggering, unimaginable losses continue to tick up. Don’t shut your eyes to these astronomical deaths. 100,000 lives are not mere statistics. Lesh’s loss, translates to all our grief. “And it's just a box of rain. Or a ribbon for your hair. Such a long, long time to be gone. And a short time to be there.”

Early Morning Rain is out now via Blue Rose Music.

“Everything Changes.” Well, it should. Our country is deeply damaged. Open your eyes. Our minority populations have never garnered the respect and equality promised by America. We have systemic problems rotting our foundation. We lack the leadership we deserve. Sadly, our president doesn’t represent the beauty that we are. It’s time to be the change we need. Protest. Shout and scream. Vote. Donate. Educate. Have meaningful conversations that alter the narrative. Upstate’s “Everything Changes” isn’t about social injustice or even the pandemic but it is relevant for this necessary time of revolution.

“Everything Changes” is actually a love song. It’s relatable as we all have experienced growing apart from a long-time friend or lover. The acoustic guitar grabs you with its soft introduction while Mary Kenney has a voice that is soothing to the soul. The band balances the vocals while humbly showcasing their immense talents. At three minutes and fifteen seconds the song intensifies. Kenney and Melanie Glenn come together using their voices to expresses sadness, longing, anger and even orgasmic moans to illustrate the complicated dynamics of a relationship. I could translate it to the sorrow, excitement and power activated in our country right now. “Everything Changes” has a modern tone differing from Upstate’s usual vibe which brilliantly incorporates rock, bluegrass, swing, jazz, gospel-soul, folk and even pop. Excellent examples illustrating Upstate’s broad range is their Beatles cover of “I’m Looking Through You” or their originals “Old Advice” and “Ball Rolling.” Their ability to move their sound from the 1940’s to the present is exhilarating.

For me, Upstate’s new song and music video foreshadows the crisis surrounding George Floyd’s death and countless other Black Americans who have been terrorized in our country even with its ‘land of the free’ tagline. “Everything changes faster than you thought it would. Everything changes faster than you thought it could. Everything moves faster than you thought it would. Everything changes faster than you thought it would.” IT MUST! Otherwise I do not anticipate a healthy existence. The promise of “liberty and justice for all” will not be fulfilled. The written words, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness” which we take as our national identity are inaccurate. We musts make good on our principles. The time is now to ensure “Everything Changes.”

In the late 1960’s a revolutionary, counter movement instituted by our nation’s youth was born. It focused on experimentation, heightened awareness, groundbreaking sounds, including statement pieces, rebutting the system, and casting off conservative social values. ‘Summer of Love’ was the name given to soften the period which was criticized by the mainstream. (Let’s call it as it was. They were freaked out by the hippies.) Without question, it was a turning point, shifting our perspectives. We are now in the midst of another rebellion. This better be our ‘Summer of Love.’

John Craigie released his album “Asterisk the Universe” June 12th. The record’s title coincidentally and superbly marks this current period in history. In writing, the asterisk symbol is used to correct defects or to emphasize a particular part of a text. In computer science, the asterisk is a wildcard or signifies repetition, even multiplication. We are remedying society’s faults. The importance of this time must be underscored. At this moment, truly anything is possible. Disastrous reverberations will not be tolerated. The movement is multiplying. Particularly right now, we should “Asterisk the Universe.” Luckily we have Craigie’s brilliant LP to accentuate the progression.

Craigie is a modern-day Bob Dylan, an active player during the ‘Summer of Love.’ Other artists, I would wager influenced Craigie’s sound are Simon and Garfunkel, John Prine, Tom Petty and Stephen Stills. In these turbulent times I’m clinging to “Climb Up.” Craigie’s knowing hums preface the songs poignant direction. “You got to climb up. We got to climb up. Oh, if we want to bring them down.” The serious instrumentals illustrate the difficult, yet critical road we all must take to “Climb Up” and ultimately make a difference. “Don’t Deny” has a vibrant energy. The strong piano in a bizarre but lovely way mimics Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer.” The tune also has a Grateful Dead feel. Both Craigie’s earthy vocals and the bluegrass, soulful, folk-rock sound of the band transports me to countless Dead shows as well as house parties nestled in Santa Cruz’s famous redwoods. Joining the festivities, I took in the sweet aroma of Nor. Cal weed, chairs masked in dew and long-haired girls dancing joyfully, lite up only by a hazy moon. No wonder I dig Craigie’s music. He, like myself, is a Banana Slug. (Yep, that truly is our beloved mascot.) “Nomads” is the perfect end to the record. The harmonica solos are brief but well placed. Overall, the song showcases Craigie’s storytelling, sweet yet robust vocals and group’s talented range. Throughout all the tracks, I was taken by the drum’s brightness, rolling keyboard and organ, steady guitar, the rhythmic bass and of course I’m a sucker for back-up singers, especially ones sporting the all-inclusive ‘Rainbow Girls’ label.

After listening to the entire record, I realized I hadn’t watched the official video of “Part Wolf.” It captures the collective, powerful “Summer of Love” essence. (Tell me you aren’t reminded of Woodstock and notorious bands, holed up in rustic cabins, creating monumental music.) We are ready to transform like we did in the late 60’s. The ideas of that age are ripe again. People are calling for equality, love and all-around humility. Americans have had enough. We are sick of injustice, government mismanagement, lying and hate. It’s time. Craigie’s album is the ideal harmony we desperately need.

I have heard countless times, “America is the greatest country on earth.” Always on top. Our COVID-19 case counts are almost a quarter of the world’s totals. Deaths! This analogy is used often, really capturing the grim reality. If three planes, holding approximately 350 people each, crashed every day that would be the equivalent of what we are experiencing in our nation. In late May, after Memorial Day, we realized 100,000 deaths. It’s been just over a month and now we are nearing 130,000. It’s so terrible the European Union is considering restricting us from traveling abroad. (They depend on our tourism revenue but are rightfully putting their citizens’ safety above the economy.) In my state of California things aren’t getting better either. In fact, they are getting a whole lot worse. There is nothing great about any of this. The US is an absolute disaster. This is dystopia at its finest. While idiot’s naïvely bounce back to their routines, I’m sitting tight. It’s really not that bad, especially spending the weekend listening to Maceo Parker’s first studio album in eight years. “Soul Food – Cooking with Maceo” was released June 26th. Parker is a renowned soul, funk and jazz saxophonist best known for his work with James Brown as well as Parliament-Funkadelic.  

The album starts with Maceo and the Macks 1975 classic, "Cross The Track.” The groovy tune takes you back. Although coping with the complexities of the Watergate convictions, Fall of Saigon, peaking unemployment and a second assassination attempt on President Ford, America was still on top. I am hopeful we can regain that era’s energy captured exquisitely by Parker’s soulful sax and his band’s flowing horns. I am thankful Parker demonstrates optimism with his rendition of “Yes We Can Can.” I am revitalized with the persuasive and joyful refrains while, the peppy, bright timbre of the saxophone reassure me. “We got to make this land a better land. Then the world in which we live. And we got help each man be a better man. With the kindness that we give. I know we can make it. I know darn well; we can work it out. Oh, yes, we can, I know we can, can. Yes, we can, can, why can’t we? If we wanna, yes, we can, can. I know we can make it make it work. I know we can make it if we try. Oh, yes, we can, I know we can, can. Yes, we can. Great Gosh Almighty. If we wanna, yes we can, can.” It’s still “Hard Times.” That is well noted above. Yet, Parker’s version of the piece teases the listener with inviting, easy tones that still remain deep. The trumpet is vibrant, somewhat victorious. “Hard Times” delivers a spirited and delightful edge which is a perplexing dichotomy considering its title. Overall, the album’s redefined covers from The Meters, Allen Toussaint, David ‘Fathead’ Newman, Aretha Franklin, Dr. John as well as Prince mixed with Parker’s originals make for pure genius.

Enjoying the record, with a hearty bowl of homemade, banana, unsweetened cocoa ice cream, it hits me. You know where America shines? What really makes us “the greatest country on earth?” We excel in creativity and ingenuity, especially in the arts. (People, I made healthy, freakin’, chocolate, banana ice cream.) In all seriousness, just listen to Parker’s record. It is a gift. America has the capacity for true greatness. Parker showcases this. Right now, however, we are just lazily “Grazing in the Grass.” Unfortunately, we do not have the luxury depicted by Parker in this primarily tranquil, smooth tune with only glimpses of sprightly horns and animated drums. Nevertheless, I’m reminded with Parker’s reinvention of Dr. John’s voodoo, funk, R&B anthem, America remains the “Right Place Wrong Time.” He is throaty and real. Its soulfulness is raucous and brazen. Don’t get disillusioned. Evoke, “Right Place Wrong Time.” Borrowing Parker’s distinct song touches, “Ha,” “Good Golly” and most importantly, “You know what,” he illustrates it is all quite simple. We have the virtuosity and drive to get back on top. At just seventy-seven, Parker’s innovative, vivacious, friskiness tells me America can pull through. 

I was climbing into bed when I heard the sound of my pipes screaming. The rush of water deafening the late night quiet. This time I knew exactly what it was. The woman in the silver BMW, minus plates was using my driveway faucet to shower again. The first time she did this I ran about my house trying to figure out if I had left the water on or if a pipe burst. When I finally realized it was coming from the shared driveway, I thought my neighbor was using the spigot after a mid-day surf. It wasn’t my neighbor. Rather I found a naked woman showering, streams of body soap pooling outside my garage. When it first happened, it was a little jarring but ultimately sad. Was she homeless? Maybe a prostitute? At 10pm it is terrifying. I got back into bed, but my heart was pounding. The explosions of post 4th of July fireworks created more anxiety. I tossed and turned. My neighbors have a child who cries every night. When they first moved in, I took his moans for squeals of ecstasy, irritate someone was getting lucky. (Sadly, I have not had sex in a really long time and obviously have no clue what it sounds like anymore.) With the return of the naked woman, warzone conditions and the annoying child next-door, sleep was nowhere in my future. Wide awake I threw on my PJs, powered up my computer, made a cup of tea and settled in to do what I do. I wrote about Emily Barker, the singer who found her way into my in-box.

Barker’s new album, “A Dark Murmuration of Words” is a soothing compilation of tunes. The tone of the music was exactly what I needed, especially at such a late hour. Like all great folk performers, Barker’s themes are profound, although still lulling. Consider just the record’s title. A murmuration refers to the spectacle caused by thousands of starlings flying in intricately coordinated patterns through the sky. The imagery of “A Dark Murmuration of Words” arouses a taste of what the LP holds in each beautifully crafted song that touches on societal issues like the environment and the ‘isms.’ The second track, “Geography” captures me immediately with the gentle, sweet picking of the guitar. Barker’s voice joins in seamlessly, remaining strong yet still delicate. There is a warm familiarity in her sound. Legendary singer-songwriter, Carole King as well as Diana Panton come to mind. “Strange Weather” is immensely striking, especially the chorus where Barker intensifies her penetrating calls. The majority of the tune is soft and slow which translates well as it is a lullaby to an unborn child. Listen carefully, though. It’s actually quite sad. The song is requesting forgiveness for the environmental horrors we all have committed. The formidable chorus closes with poignant reminders. In this track, Barker shares a similarity to Brandi Carlile and Alison Krauss. As an artist she mirrors some excellent company. “Machine” has a tribal start. The drums' intentional beat matches Barker’s poetic storytelling that illustrate the song’s importance with shrill like intensity. I hear Indigo Girls influences, especially their album “Shaming of the Sun” with its’ impactful messages. Then interestingly, it transforms into a Broadway-like hit with a surprising, energetic chorus of voices. This tune is extraordinarily fitting for the movement occurring right now. I have no doubt this will be the 2020 musical theatre, racial injustice standout comparable to “Do You Hear the People Sing?’ from ‘Les Misérables’ or ‘Hamilton’s’ “My Shot.”

When I’m flustered, sad, scared, even elated, I write. It’s past midnight. I’m finally calm. I’m happy with my album review and thrilled I have a new artist to love. I’m also finally tired. Hearing only the occasional car fly by, sleep is definitely calling. I leave the teacup in the sink, turn off the lights and head back upstairs, while Barker’s “When Stars Cannot Be Found” plays in my mind. “I see Venus shine through a silhouette of trees. I feel so small tonight, I guess as it should be. We are made of stardust, oxygen and bones. So don’t forget to look up, when you feel alone.”

I love it! The Ghost of Paul Revere absolutely nailed it with their new single and accompanying music video, “Love At Your Convenience.” The vocals are powerful while the instrumentals are heavy and deeply rooted in a soulful mixture of folk, bluegrass, rock and a touch of alternativeness. They refer to their style as ‘holler folk.’ It seems to me it is an adaptation of the field holler genre which was sung by Black slaves. The cry or holler hallmark of this music expressed feelings surroundings abysmal, truly unacceptable conditions. Ultimately, field holler influenced blues, R&B and spirituals which then inspired the origins of folk. Voilà, the creation of The Ghost of Paul Revere’s phenomenal sound, wonderfully demonstrated in their commanding, new tune.

“Love At Your Convenience” oozes masculinity. It is also intuitive, easy, and lively, with sing-along hooks. Upon first listen I’m already bouncing about my house bellowing, “I said, I told you, I’m angry and I ain’t coming back. I said, I told you, I am angry and I ain’t coming back. I said, I told you, I love you, and I ain’t coming back. No more.” Although I sing terribly this is a telltale sign of a good tune. Yet, it’s not just that it is fun to join in or that the band’s intensity is contagious. This song is relatable. The group captures the sickening rawness when ending a relationship with an immensely, important love. They simultaneously encapsulate the craziness of somehow coming to terms with the decision to walk away even though love is still present and quite real. My girlfriends are battling disappointments encompassing love. (Me; not so much. I’m jaded, a bit damaged and frankly over it.)  Frantic texts, sobbing voicemails as well as disenchanted convos have been plentiful as of late, always being the supportive go-to, notorious for listening, never judging and staying even-keeled. Spending a good amount of time with the piece and perhaps overcome by the sadness of friends, my visceral, ‘Hell Yeah,’ reaction is triggered. The song provides necessary, bottomless healing in a simple but honest and effective way. I’ll be directing all those hurting to “Love At Your Convenience” as it is the perfect move on anthem, no one needs this BS, nonsense. Channeling The Ghost of Paul Revere, let’s roar, “My love, my love ain’t here for your convenience.”

Tuesday, November 3, 2020, is Election Day. You should know this unless you’ve buried your head in the sand which is somewhat understandable considering this crazy climate. (By the way, it’s a myth ostriches do this. From a distance, it may look like it has buried its very small head in the sand. However, it is an illusion due to its huge body.) If this was a normal presidential election year I would be watching impatiently as the results trickle in, nursing a Tito’s and soda at my local, dive bar known for its wide musical selection and impromptu jam sessions where the guitars and banjos are borrowed from their wall perches. On the 3rd I desperately hope I’m at my bar, Town Mountain’s new single “You Can’t Win Em All,” playing as we close down a very successful night.

Town Mountain is a solid, classic country and bluegrass band. Their new song triggers recollections of Johnny Cash, Hank Williams, Earl Scruggs, Lester Flatt, and even Jerry Lee Lewis. The typical, twangy genre vocals are comforting and unadulterated. The array of strings are tremendously moving with each tender pick or strum. Even in its sadness, the tempo is still high and lively.

Town Mountain has created a thoughtful, gritty analysis and rather musing of life’s errors as well as misfortunes. Love, of course, is a theme in this model, country tune. I’m struck through by the parallel to our current leadership, even applying the topic of love as a metaphor for his bizarre relationship with America. I’m confident he wouldn’t identify with these insightful and deeply accurate lyrics, “I can’t stand the sight, of the mess that I made with my time. For I once held the world just like a pearl on a string. But I gave it away. Lost everything for my pride.” So true. He can’t admit faults or take accountability for disastrous decisions and then pivot, even if those actions would have saved him election night.

In describing their new song, vocalist and mandolin player, Phil Barker shared, “I envisioned this tune as a last-song-on-the-jukebox kind of vibe…when everything is winding down and you’re left with the quiet of the evening to think back on the way life and love has gone.” He elaborates, “Not just with regret, but also with acceptance on how some things work out for the best in the long run.” Obviously, reflection for our leader should have happened way before November 3rd. Maybe when he choose to side with White nationalists. How about when he separated families and locked children in cages? Perhaps when the World Health Organization declared a pandemic in early March. If my forecast is correct, the horrors will soon be behind us.

I envision the dedicated few, now forever friends, having experienced a roll-a-coaster of an evening and, let’s be honest, a horrendous last four years, huddled together on the lengthy, mahogany bar. Panicked moments are replaced by a crashing wave of relief. The night’s final song is coming to a close as one-by-one, we join the chorus, “Seems the higher and higher you go. All the further you have then to fall. You can play every game, but you can’t win em all. You can play every game, but you can’t win em all.” We all experience losses. It’s inevitable. I’m predicting it’s his turn as brilliantly put by Town Mountain.

Corey Harper is more than just a pretty face. His music is endearing, authentic and touches on difficult but far too familiar emotions. At just 25 I’m impressed with his depth. (I am also saddened he has already had to endure so much heartache. Although, ultimately it makes him a great artist.) Harper’s album, “Overcast” has an ethereal feel not just in sound but also in look which complements its overall intensity. The 37-second opener, with the same name, sets the tone for the entire record where Harper focuses on bleak subject matter but also provides rays of hope. I keep returning to the lyrics, “We’ll finally see the light through the overcast.” That’s the synopsis, but I’m not going to stop there.

“Entertainment” is the most commercial and upbeat of the tracks. Even in its buoyancy, it is still contemplative. Harper reveals his struggles within the LA music industry, posing the questions, “How and where do I fit in?” Of course, regardless of our career endeavors, we all can relate to these psychological and cultural ponderings. The song speaks to me as a native Angeleno. (Yes, I’m a unicorn.) “Baby, it’s dangerous in this town when I’m feeling this down. Beautiful faces creep me out. They’re always around. I’m falling apart and it’s painless. I dance with the dark and I hate it. So sick of the entertainment.” I love his lines, especially dancing with the dark and hating it. It creates vivid imagery. Ones, unfortunately, many of us have experienced. The lyrics also make sense even if you don’t work in the business. LA is my home and I adore it, but it can be a mecca of superficiality, well captured in Harper’s sentiments. I expected the video to be scenes of LA, being that it is the subject matter. Instead, the breathtaking Oregon coast overwhelms the lens. Both the song and video are captivating.

“Crave” surprised me with its funky start. I picture an ornate organ; the type found in a haunted mansion, funeral parlor or jazz club. It’s actually a synthesizer. It mimics the organ, creating the tune’s solemn undertone. The instrument is also used to construct a uniquely hip sound that provides another powerful dimension that is balancing. The song is super pleasing which is a necessity since it pulls on my heart causing a nauseating contradiction within. Harper clearly illustrates the pain felt longing for a lost love. I do not want to know this yearning, but I do. “I’m craving you. I’m craving you. I’ll do anything you want me to.” This hunger is very much alive and terribly tempting.

“25” hits me the hardest. It’s because I know the topic depicted too intimately. (I’m getting a bit of a beating from this record. It’s worth it though. The messages in Harper’s music remind me, struggles turn into transformations.) For me, the damage, although much less, is still present. It is right under the surface. The barebones, acoustic guitar, Harper’s redo and periodically croaky but sweet voice triggers memories of the guy I used to give me courage to leave my broken relationship. We sang songs like “25.” I should be thinking of my ex. I guess I sort of am. I’m flooded with complex recollections in Harper’s tribute to his best friend, who left the world way too soon. (I sincerely wish there were fewer of us in this awful club. Know you are not alone.)

The sorrows Harper writes about are the result of immense grief. These raw emotions are torture but they nurture creativity. I imagine for Harper; he taps into these painful depths because they provide the greatest relief and the fullest experience around the emotions. (It always worked this way for me.) Even though he is completely exposed by sharing his innermost feelings, he embraces them wholly because when redirecting anguish pure magic is formed. The tracks speak for themselves. I relate and am grateful to this type of cathartic outpouring which teaches us to love deeper, live bolder, be braver, stay hopeful, and express fuller.

Billows of tear gas fill the warm, summer night air. The shouts and pleas for justice replaced by hacking coughs, irritated eyes and people forced to their knees, desperately trying to breathe. A metal baton is used to shove a middle-aged woman, peacefully expressing her First Amendment right. A twenty something man, holding a sign that simply states, “We Need Change,” is grabbed without explanation and thrown into an unmarked van. American cities are being terrorized by unidentified federal agents that resemble paramilitary. Bronwyn Keith-Hynes’ new single, “Open Water” plays as I watch in horror as Orwell’s admonitions come to life.

Keith-Hynes’ is a bluegrass fiddler. She will release her new record, "Fiddler's Pastime" early September. In the meantime, we can enjoy “Open Water,” a preview of the innovative, animated and virtuosic LP. Keith-Hynes shares, “This was the first tune I wrote for the album, and I think it captures something I love in bluegrass music which is that combination of haunting melody and rocket-like propulsion.” Keith-Hynes’ fiddle is the star, but the track is made whole with Jake Stargel on guitar, Jeff Picker on bass and Wes Corbett on banjo. It also features Sierra Hull on mandolin. With “Open Water” serving as a backdrop to the insidious, totalitarian images assaulting my TV, I am awakened by Keith-Hynes’ bright tones. The notes portray the momentum the protesters are sparking but also the negative undercurrent. The energy is high and the intensity is electrifying. At one minute and forty-seven seconds the pace slows, coinciding with the night’s souring as the unidentified forces establish their authority. The “haunting melody” she describes are the eerie, low tones that match the mood as the violent clashes become more than just government overreach but tyranny. It quickens again bringing even more passion to the scenes unfolding. The song closes with the “rocket-like propulsion” so accurately defined by Keith-Hynes, confirming the dire situation is not resolved.

When I visited Saigon, our city tour guide warned us of ‘snatchers.’ Being blonde, petite and pretty, darn cute they feared I would be the group’s target. (To me this sounded like I was the weak link but having traveled all over the world I wasn’t going to be paralyzed by the idea of ‘the snatcher.’ I remained cautious and smart.) Luckily, I was never snatched. Now, however, on Main Street, USA, snatchers are about, as well as other quite deplorable behaviors threatening our democracy. This is not, nor do we want it to be our America. Bluegrass, on the contrary, represented adeptly in Keith-Hynes’ dynamic album, is the best of Americana. Our country’s core values like, power, ingenuity, originality, freedom, distinctiveness and attentiveness, are brought seamlessly to life in Keith-Hynes’ music. “Hendersonville Hop” is penetrating. “Michelle’s Waltz” demonstrates innovation and individuality. “Fiddler’s Pastime” is liberating. Diversity is showcased in the fierce, hearty voices complimenting the tracks with lyrics such as “Hello Trouble.” There is care in every note throughout each song. Keith-Hynes’ album captures the America we want, modeling our central principles. We must follow the path Keith-Hynes’ clearly illuminates, speaking boldly against actions that do not match our ideals.

In honor of Jerry Garcia’s birthday (8/1/42), Poolside released their cover of “Shakedown Street.”  The song’s meaning has been notoriously vague, stumping Deadheads. Some speculate the famed, 1978 tune is about Club Front, the Grateful Dead’s, San Rafael recording studio and all the drama that ensued there. Others attribute the lyrics, as perhaps, focusing on the decay of inner-cities. Of course, as any fan knows, the title came to refer to the parking lot scene before and after shows. Poolside’s accompanying music video spotlights the setting well, sparking fond memories. (I loved a good “Shakedown Street.” In LA we passed around homemade brownies. The very best, veggie burritos were had after a night of twirling. Through the colorful corridors, I met loves who momentarily, only for that show, fluttered into my sphere.) Poolside’s remake and video embodies the spirit and excitement awakened in every Dead tune. I hope it ignites a new breed of hardcore fans.

Spending time with Poolside’s “Shakedown Street” version allowed me to have fun playing with a fresh, current day interpretation. My modern spin refutes the deterioration theory. The chorus sums it up. “Nothin’ shakin’ on Shakedown Street. Used to be the heart of town. Don't tell me this town ain't got no heart. You just gotta poke around.” Meandering around neighborhoods, (small, large, rich, poor, vibrant, waning), glimpses of that ‘heart,’ so eloquently written by Robert Hunter, is pounding. Streets are erupting, similarly to during the civil rights moment. Military forces are beating people down but they continue to stand up. Even when it’s seemingly quiet, there are encouraging placards in windows and on front walkways acknowledging the movement as well as simultaneously thanking community heroes from healthcare professionals, grocery clerks to postage workers. Painted rocks dispersed randomly, trigger optimism to wanderers who may feel a bit lost and alone. Behind closed doors and at a safe distance neighbors are actively helping neighbors. “You just gotta poke around.”

Poolside has created a really solid, instrumentally powerful rendition of the funky, disco influenced song that hasn’t always been given its due, especially since it has come to signify a large aspect of Dead culture. Poolside updates the disco tones with a swanky club vibe which makes sense since the band got their start creating upbeat, indie dance tracks. I like how at three minutes and three seconds the song takes a different path than its predecessors. In Poolside’s rendering, the last lines before the final chorus are not included. (In the Dead’s original, Jerry reverberates, “I recall your darkness when it crackled like a thundercloud. Don't tell me this town ain't got no heart. Don’t tell me this town ain’t got no heart. Don’t tell me this town ain’t got no heart, when I can hear it beat out loud.” The darkness is the anger, fear and even drive to help, nestled inside each of us that must be let out. The passerby reminds us our activism is being seen and heard.) Alternatively, in Poolside’s take, a Drums/Space-like aspect is introduced. (Some people don’t get it but for me Drums/Space is magical. I’m instantly transported to the 1995, Seattle show where I smoked a joint which I’m pretty sure was laced with shrooms due to the euphoric, psychedelic high.) Poolside dives into ambient experimentation giving way to a range of pleasing percussions and unique elements. The “Well, well, well,” is clearly accentuated and repeated almost all the way to the close. Their contemporary adaptation is creative while still maintaining the correct tenor.

Jerry wasn’t just one of the most iconic, prolific, visionary musicians of our time. He was also a social activist. I believe, on what would have been his 78th birthday, he would be proud of what’s happening in the streets. No, he wouldn’t be okay with the authoritarian forces or other disgraceful activities galvanized to silence the masses. Rather, he would be propelled by the action of citizens to make a difference and unite communities both clandestinely as well as openly. He stated, “If we had any nerve at all, if we had any real balls as a society, or whatever you need, whatever quality you need, real character, we would make an effort to really address the wrongs in this society, righteously." Thanks to Poolside, “Shakedown Street” is resurfaced allowing us to live Jerry’s potent words. Happy Birthday Jerry!

“Don’t Walk Away” is the debut single from The Heavy Hours. The song is reminiscent of a classic, pop rock group. Their video’s first shot is of the band’s name on the drum kit which pans out to the Cincinnati quartet playing on stage. The Beatles preforming on The Ed Sullivan Show or American Bandstand with Dick Clark comes to mind even though those images are way before my time. The band members are long-time friends but they could be brothers. I’m categorizing their style as a modern, hippie/grunge with them all sporting mustaches, three having shoulder length hair and the same uniform of t-shirts, denim jackets and lace up, work boots. The video is carefree with boys being boys. They mischievously use the freeway overpass, caged walkway as monkey bars, play base and alley stick ball, backflip adventurously into a lake, sing in a speeding truck bed, scale buildings and jokingly grab as well as hang on each other. Again, there are nods to The Beatles with the group walking in a straight line like the penultimate Abbey Road album cover. You can feel the fun and lightheartedness in every frame.

The song doesn’t disappoint either. It was co-written with Dan Auerbach, front man of The Black Keys. It is an excellent introduction to The Heavy Hours’ musical prowess. The chorus is catchy but not overdone. The lyrics are sweet. “If you’re the ocean, I’ll be the stars. Shine on you wherever you are. If you’re the needle, I’ll be the thread and put us back together again. You got me running, out of my mind. You got me begging for a piece of your time. You got me sleeping behind the wheel. Well, give me something that I can feel.” Their no nonsense, a tad country, down to earth vocals to the simplistic instrumentals just work. The Heavy Hours’ sound is nostalgic with a creative, modern twist. I can’t wait to hear what’s next.

“Hey, don’t walk away. Don’t’ be afraid to say you’ll take me back someday. I got to have faith. That’s why I pray that you don’t walk away.” Hell, I wouldn’t walk away. Every girl (well, at least this one), would go Beatles mania (high pitched shrieking, frenzied mobbing and even snotty tears) nuts for a guy who wrote a song about them. (Past boyfriends, I’m disappointed I wasn’t worthy of a tune.) Here’s a tip. If you have any musical ability and want to get laid, we are suckers for this type of blatant flattery and attention. Cheers to The Heavy Hours for creating a great song, but also making some girl’s dreams come true.

Shannon LaBrie’s album, “Building,” scheduled for release late September, denotes its name. Each song is based around building as well as discovering inner strength. More than ever Americans are desperately clamoring to find strength as they navigate the repercussions of our ever-worsening pandemic. In these uncertain and extraordinarily difficult times, LaBrie provides hope through every distinct and focused note. She blends various musical styles (country, folk, rock, blues and roots) creating uplifting music that for 25 minutes and 26, glorious seconds, we can escape, finding both solace and drive.  

The record’s first track, “Firewalker” grabbed me with its explosive start. LaBrie is almost speaking the lyrics and then her expressive, soulful voice is joined by echoing background singers, their choir-like clapping enhancing the tune’s momentum. Taking in the meaning of the words, I was even more entranced. “I never meant to be tough. To grit my teeth through the rough. To fall and keep getting up. Look what I have become. I am a firewalker. I am a firewalker. I am a firewalker.” That’s me! Sure, I conceal my dark history well, often mistaken as naïve or worse cookie-cutter. I remain unfazed by the judgement and misunderstandings, always determined to muddle through. “Bring on the struggle and sweat. It hasn't broken me yet.” (As I write, I realize how egoistical it sounds to apply LaBrie’s words to myself, even if they are the truth. Yet, isn’t prose the biggest form of ego? I’m presuming you want to read what I have to share.) Regardless of my personal impact, everyone, especially now, needs a song that reminds them how tough they are as well as what they managed to fight through. Mine used to be Sara Bareilles’ “Brave.” It’s a good one, but LaBrie’s opener matches where I am now. I’m adopting it as my new go-to as I battle these present trials.  

Moving through the album, I immediately hear similarities, both in tone and style, where LaBrie mirrors talented, poetic lyricists like Sheryl Crow, Norah Jones, Shania Twain and even The Chicks, who recently changed their name to distance themselves from the Confederate South. The title track, “Building” is proper poetry with its multiple meanings. It could be highlighting the fortitude of the right partnership or that with each life experience, we become stronger building on our resiliency. The latter is how LaBrie describes her tune. Obviously, it’s very fitting for our current situations. I, however, took the partnership route, as her voice is sultry, sensual and a bit breathy. I really like “One In A Billion.” It is an empowering lullaby. I can picture mums cradling newborns, softly singing LaBrie’s powerful words. When I was at my very worst, my mum climbed into bed with me as I sobbed uncontrollably. Stroking my hair, she repeated soothing affirmations, which could have been borrowed from LaBrie. “You’re one in a billion. One of a kind. There’s nobody like you. In this grand design. When it gets dark. Please realize. You’re one in a billion. Look at you shine. You’re one in a billion. Look at you shine.” I am overcome by immense gratitude for LaBrie’s celebration of individuality while simultaneously providing necessary accolades. Sadly, people don’t usually recognize or appreciate their worth and right now it is graver the ever with the majority needing to be built up. “You're a diamond in a coal mine. One answered prayer. You’re a nightingale calling. The spring in the air.” The album closes with Tom Petty’s, “It’s Good To Be King.” Obviously, the song also focuses on a form of strength. It’s about continuing to dream, always seeing future possibilities. LaBrie’s bluesy, slowed down but still in the right moments, inflected rendition, bookends the record well.

Even though the hardships are dire with far too many Americans facing stark realities around emotional and financial survival, LaBrie ignites our tenacity. Her crisp, clear sound commands attention forcing listeners to so importantly implement her messaging. She boosts our motivation, instilling unrelenting strength and hope. Don’t give up America.

“Above every storm

A cloudless sky is

Waiting for me and you

And it’s raining hallelujah

It’s raining hallelujah”

Russia and China are interfering with our election. The GOP campaign is engaging in frivolous lawsuits to stifle negative ads and there is now proof they are responsible for rallying support around a deranged, (as if the current one wasn’t damaged enough) third-party candidate. I’m enraged by all this revolting behavior. Yet, what makes me the most irate is the mucking about in the mechanism needed for us to vote safely since the pandemic is out of freaking, control. (I whole-heartily acknowledge The United States Post Office isn’t a sexy nor exciting topic. Although, wouldn’t a mail carrier gig be pretty awesome? You have limited interactions with others, are provided a cute, Jeep-like thing and get plenty of exercise walking around neighborhoods, listening to whatever music you fancy. We have to save the Post Office as I just realized this is my dream career.) I’m clearly all over the place, but that’s okay. It’s a “Strange World," represented extraordinarily well through Ric Robertson’s new record that exudes an eccentric mixture of funk, soul, R&B and even rhythmic/tribal vibrations.

“You Got Soul” introduces the album’s mood. It screams New Orleans. I’m ecstatic knowing the three remaining tracks will follow suit. Robertson’s voice is raspy, with a coolness that is super smooth and spicy. If Matthew McConaughey had to preform vocally, (and I’m not referring to his Dapper Koala Buster Moon scoundrel role) Robertson’s would be his stand-in. The typical instruments (drums, keyboards and horns) that define the funk genre incite a Mardi Gras feel. It’s sticky with smells of overly sweet gardenias and momentary whiffs of fried shrimp, crawfish and beignets. The streets are packed. The bands strut. Their brass horns glimmering in the sun. Singers erotically wave peacock, feathered fans. Onlookers raise their purple parasols high. Whistles fill the air. Robertson’s opener illustrates, it’s a delightful, but “Strange World.”

The title song channels legendary Dr. John and of course Parliament-Funkadelic as well as Sly and the Family Stone. “Donny B. Gone” diverts from the traditional NOLA sound thriving in the three other tracks. Robertson maintains his funkiness while introducing space aged elements. It hauntingly echoes, “Donny B. Gone,” making a reference to our upcoming election. (Please, please, please let Robertson’s lyrics be true.) His spoken words are provoking, accurate and a tad taunting. Yep, it’s an awfully “Strange World.” The last song, “Louisiana Love Thing” with its quirky video is my favorite. It has sex appeal with Robertson soaking in a pink bathtub, pointed piano start, perfectly placed magnolias, blown bubble and ‘whoa’ exclamation after sipping a potent Hurricane. I’m oddly turned on. That first fifty seconds is the tantalizing, build up. Now Robertson’s in full groove. He’s got it, displaying unadulterated confidence with the right touch of directed playfulness. He knows how to make the journey truly fulfilling, euphoric and ultimately explosive. (I said this wasn’t going to be a salacious review. I retract that statement.) As the song progresses you get a taste of ‘The Big Easy’ charm. It’s a diverse array of cheeky, boisterous and silly souls making up this wonderfully, “Strange World.”

Schools must open but the election needs postponing. There is great concern agents will employ scare tactics at the polls. Discussions are rampant surrounding what mitigation strategies will be implemented to ensure the current administration leave their posts. It is bat shit crazy out there. I’m glad I’m not alone in my assessment that it’s a “Strange World.” Robertson’s titillating music embraces the insanity making it not just tolerable, but down right delectable. Robertson’s “Strange World” is the reality I choose.

The Imaginaries, a husband and wife duo, released their newest single, “Walking On A Wire.” The song is timely, focused on tackling life’s countless obstacles. Maggie McClure specifies it is also about “staying the course, no matter what.” In a time where life is more complicated than normal and the hurdles feel almost impassable, it is comforting as well as a necessity to have Shane Henry and McClure’s duet that exemplifies perseverance.  

“Walking On A Wire” is penetrating. Henry and McClure’s voices gracefully play off each other. They effortlessly take turns, sometimes passionately overlapping, to illuminate their tale of strength which can translates into each of our experiences if we embrace as well as embody their inspirational lyrics. In each note their determination and self-confidence shines through, again symbolizing the character needed so as not to get derailed. Instrumentally the tune is stripped down to highlight the vocals that emit a range of emotions from momentary defeat to underlying hope. The music video teaser is striking, shot in Oklahoma’s desolate, desert dunes. The barren, sand swept imagery reinforces the song’s significance of pushing forward even in the most wild of circumstances.

Henry admits, with the right touch of vulnerability but still vigor, “These bones are getting tired.” I’m overcome by internal angst when they echo, “spinning round and round and round again.” I’m ready to give up, but their words conjure thoughts of strong, yet persecuted woman. I haven’t been called ‘nasty.’ I have heard ‘crazy.’ (Obviously, that was hurtful.) Other unmistakably, negative descriptors, both in tone and connotation include, ‘emotional,’ ‘opinionated’ as well as ‘too independent.’ I’m a White, privileged woman, but I have still had to combat inappropriate behavior based upon the insecurities of others which of course created challenges, sometimes felt as insurmountable. United in harmony, drawing their song to a clear close, the couple croon optimism. “Walking on a wire and the waves are crashing under. We are walking on a wire. We can make it, make it to the other side. We can make it, make it to the other side. We can make it, make it to the other side. We can make it, make it.” It is not easy to muddle through, keeping up the facade of strength, when pretty much every day is a high-wire act. Take a breath. We all can make it across. That bottomless well of resolve is there. It just needs to be tapped.

“Walking On A Wire” is now available worldwide on

iTunes

Spotify

Apple Music

and everywhere else you listen to music online!

The term ‘reckoning’ is defined in multiple ways. It is the process of calculating something. It refers to a judgement, opinion, bill or settlement. Front Country wrote “The Reckoning” a year prior to the pandemic, social injustice movement and pre-election, Post Office debacle. Nonetheless, the song impeccably defines this bizarre moment in history, providing confidence there will be a final reckoning.  

Front Country brings humility as well as authenticity to every note and lyric. Setting the stage for the entire track, Melody Walker is poised and calm while instituting her musical authority. “The Reckoning” is exactly what we need to hear. “We can’t go back. You know the only way is through. It’s a call to all the work we have to do.” They nail it. We can’t reverse the mistakes made or pretend they don’t exist. There’s a hell of a lot of work to be done. (175K+ COVID deaths, Black and Brown citizens terrorized and voters disenfranchised. None of that is acceptable. I’ll admit, it is daunting, but I’m not one to give up, especially with the stakes being so high.) In a fury Walker continues, “When the truth is there, got to shout it out to make it ring again.” Truth is a basic premise taught at the earliest of age. It’s in all religious texts, democratic philosophies and the underpinning of healthy relationships, but regretfully it has been pushed aside, negatively impacting our well-being. Our core is rotting, illustrated in the breakdown of everything we hold dear.

We are unwell, but don’t worry. Adam Roszkiewicz and Jacob Groopman join Walker in the chorus with unforgettable, surging harmonies, reassuring us there will be a positive future. “And, if you are ready for the reckoning then sing it out loud. It’s not the first time that we have been here, but we will figure it out. Sometimes the sickness is a gift, so we can take the medicine, be ready for the reckoning.” The string solo, implemented before the song’s closing is overwhelmingly powerful and well placed. The last line of the chorus is reiterated as the trio reverberates ardently, “Maybe the sickness is a gift, so we can take the medicine, be ready for the reckoning.” Front Country reveals we are ready for “The Reckoning,” ultimately leading to our very necessary redemption.

The Georgia Thunderbolts just released their debut, self-titled record. It’s pure rock and roll, mirroring sounds of bands such as Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Allman Brothers, Creedence Clearwater Revival, and ZZ Top. Rock and roll plays an important function within society, influencing attitudes and developments. It’s also an art form that celebrates as well as encourages self-expression, diversity and individuality. We are at a tipping point, illustrated strongly by speakers at both the Democratic and Republican National Conventions. Through rock and roll, The Georgia Thunderbolts represent where we, as a society, need to be aiming.

“Looking For An Old Friend” has an impressive start. The quick, tempoed guitars pull you in, the heavy drums indicate this song isn’t messing about and the hearty, male vocals are reminiscent of a classic rock sound with modern touches. I bet, well-respected GOPs can relate to the chorus. “Looking for an old friend that I have lost. Starting to see that I have been gone for so long. Seeing things that fooled me bad. Because I got too far from the tracks.” I am definitely “Looking For An Old Friend.” I’m yearning for somebody who can lead efficiently while bringing stability and avoiding divisiveness. I would take back George W. Bush. Even though he made mistakes and I’m not referring to ‘potato-gate,’ he brought the country together after 9/11.

The Georgia Thunderbolts’ second song, “So You Wanna Change The World,” is rock meets twangy country. The lyrics trigger visions of the national protests that are generating transformation. “We are living in a changing world. You know it’s gonna. If you want change the world, I hope you’re gonna.” The spoken words, “Go ahead now!” introduces the electrifying solo which has a semi-metal feel with screaming, squealing guitars. The band brings a diverse range to each track. The core is rock and roll, but the headbanging elements also present in “Lend a Hand” and “Spirit Of A Workin’ Man” makes their music exhilarating and definitely less traditional. The last track keeps its promises. The rawness, confidence, instrumental distortions and individuality push the boundaries. It “Set Me Free.”

Rock and roll describe what the genre accomplishes. It ‘rocks’ or disturbs our world in the best way. It keeps ‘rolling’ or progressing us forward. The Georgia Thunderbolts are here at the opportune time as we need rock and roll more than ever. They epitomize the genre by returning to as well as exemplifying the ideals we should be aspiring to achieve.

Magnolia Boulevard’s debut album, “New Illusion” is contagious with its bluesy, soulful flavor and grooves that jam effortlessly. I listened to the Kentucky quintet’s last track, “Sister” first. Maggie Noelle, lead vocalist, wrote the song in honor of her best friend. It’s the record’s standout. The gentle picking guitar and rumbling bass, that is almost meditative, initiates its heartfelt sentiments. The tribute is captivating both in its lyrics and accompanying instrumentals. “My sister, my sister she walks her own way.” I am extremely fortunate to have so many strong ‘sisters.’ These are the women who pick you up when you’re paralyzed from heartbreak or hold your hands when you are too frightened to walk alone. They are role models, so when it’s your turn, you can be their pillar. “My sister, young woman, she painted her trail. My sister, my sister, she walked through hell. She painted her colors and made her own way. My sister, my sister it’s good seeing you today.” The song is magic just like the special bond between amazing, female friends. (‘Sisters,’ I love you.)

“Ride” is the EP’s first tune. Immediately, Susan Tedeschi and the Trucks Band is triggered. At the end of the first line of the chorus, “You tell me that you’ve had your better days,” southern style sounds bookend the lyrics. “Lovin’ Me” and “Smooth Sailin’” change course in a really exciting manner. Both songs demonstrate the band’s ability to superbly flex their style and are reminiscent of legendary Chaka Khan who has had an expansive range starting in the early 1970’s. Throughout the record Noelle, guitarist Gregg Erwin, drummer Todd Copeland, keyboardist Ryan Allen and bassist John Roberts bring deep ballads, up-tempo but still lonesome, passionate instrumentals. The strong riffs and rich, striking keyboards had me craving more of their complex and warm sound. Although the album is short in length the group’s power is undeniable. I want to travel further down Magnolia Boulevard. I can’t wait for them to continue paving their road, exploring all the twists and turns they have to offer.

I am deeply disturbed. More accurately I might be clinically depressed after four, very long nights of the Republican National Convention. (Yes, I am quite aware it was over a week ago, but the trauma of the horrendous rhetoric is still very much alive in my psyche, especially with less than two months until the election.) The Duane Bartels Band challenge my mood with their hauntingly New Orleans, bluesy and somewhat swingy, new single “Messin’.”

Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, The Brian Setzer Orchestra and Parliament-Funkadelic are channeled in the group’s new single while bringing their own modern touches. The dancing horns join the accented drums before kicking in again with fierce screams. Attention fully awakened the entire band jumps in with animated collaboration. Both the vibrant vocals, “Quit messin’ me around,” and booming instrumentals reinforce my frustrated and extremely worried stance. At a minute and thirty-four seconds the tune turns psychedelic, expanding the group’s repertoire. The bass, keys, vocals, guitar, drums, harmonica, sax and trumpet are all given their moment to shine. Particularly, the vocals reverberate and howl, the keys strike hard but sweetly, the horns shriek and the beats lie heavily.

The tune concludes as powerfully as it began generating dynamic energy, reminding me I’m an action oriented, doer who isn’t going to sink into despondency. That’s just not me. Instead of falling into the abyss of despair I’m acknowledging, “You’re bringing me down.” I’m also adopting The Duane Bartels Band’s words, boldly proclaiming, “Quit messin’ me around.” I’m hoping others will follow suit. Let’s not accept the grandiose, falsehoods and incompetence that threatens our society. In November we can restore America’s promise.  We will illustrate we are sick and tired of the nonsense, clearly articulating, “Quit messin’ me around.”

I am far from an “Ordinary Soul.” Life experiences have tainted me, quirky, dark humored, jaded and at times sassy verging on salty. (I’m proud of these characteristics. Who wants to be run of the mill?) After listening to Stephen “Mojo” Mougin’s 12-track album I can confidentiality state there is nothing ‘ordinary’ about his music. Its ‘soul’ is Americana at its finest with solid storytelling, clear vocals and instrumentals that range from rousing to consoling.

The leading tune, “New Beginnings” is hopeful, not only in title and lyrics but also its quick, upbeat tenor. Mojo’s words resonate, especially now, as we all negotiate these particularly challenging times of a raging virus, climate disasters, social unrest and failed leadership. “I see a path before me, so I’ll take another step. Life’s a journey to the great unknown. I’m changing out of desperation, leaving my regrets. Not waiting ‘round to see my name in stone. And find a little meaning on my own.” The distinct country waltz of “Color Me Lonely” is enticing from the first note. Envisioning a dusty, dance hall I am suddenly swept onto the floor by a suitor. Unfortunately, he isn’t the one I’m craving. I regretfully watch as the cowboy I once had is waltzing closely with another gal. “Color Me Lonely” is a familiar state of being for most everybody, at least at some point. “Pale as a faded old picture. Blue as a night without end. Taking the magic, leaving the misery. I know you don’t love me. Now that it’s over, color me lonely again.” Mojo carries the song with his robust vocals, joined by sweet background singers at the opportune moments. The heartfelt, gentle guitar is the star of the musical interlude. “Play Me A Sad Song Again” is exactly what I needed. It’s uplifting and completely accurate. It’s a love song, but the lyrics can be applied to the overall insanity which is quite typical in this often messed up world. (Luckily, I’m able to find humor in having dodged being associated with a fraudulent insurance claim. Life’s absurdities.) “There's something about a sad song that always makes me smile. Forgetting the world for a while. And sometimes the beauty is written in pain. So, play me a sad song again.” The underlying mandolin and I’m guessing a violin provide a dichotomy. They are sorrowful and at the same time amusing.    

I took Mojo’s title literally at first. I focused on how neither one of us were average. It’s still true, but I was being cocky. Then it dawned on me. Mojo created an album that describes ‘ordinary’ ordeals that are part of life’s ginormous rollercoaster. The ‘soul’ or way his music is performed demonstrates as well as symbolizes complexity even when on the surface it may seem simple. The title, “Ordinary Soul,” is not only appropriate but profound as the entire record provides a deep sense of understanding and ease surrounding these common place experiences. It’s magnificent.

I have been closely tracking COVID deaths. (My morbid confession.) On average, 1,000 deaths are realized daily. By January, if we don’t assume basic public health approaches, new models predict 3,000 daily deaths. I’m not a numbers gal. (I barely passed algebra 2 and was thrown into delinquent geometry where I have fond memories of the goth guy who taught me how to apply lipstick flawlessly.) Although told ad nauseam numbers are clear-cut, I despise mathematics, finding the subject difficult to comprehend. The COVID calculations and outcomes, however, are simple to grasp, equating absolute horror if we continue to follow this destructive path. The lack of urgency, ingenuity and adaptability are responsible for the pandemic’s fatality failures. Adopting qualities so eloquently presented in Will Bernard’s invigorating record, “Freelance Subversives” can change our trajectory for the better.

Jazzy funk is characterized by improvisation, explosive rhythms and polyphonic ensembles. Unlike numbers, there is nothing straightforward or humdrum about the genre, impeccably embodied by Bernard. His music is creative, instrumentally complex and thoroughly exhilarating. He is also a gifted guitarist who pushes boundaries, teasing and enticing the listener yet still innately knows how to share the stage. His synergy with the band as well as special guests is undeniable. From track to track each instrument takes a different, unpredictable tone, shifting and morphing like big, puffy clouds on a clear, blue sky day. Intricate layers are inserted highlighting the spirited horns, sultry organ, vibrant keyboards, directed drums and boomy bass. The title song has a groovy disco, trance vibe that could be the soundtrack for a day biking around ‘the playa.’ I could easily be lured to the floor, boogying to “Lifer.” Jazz legends like Charlie Hunter, Herbie Hancock, Booker T. Jones and of course, the Muppet’s Dr. Teeth and Electric Mayhem are channeled in “Skill Set.”

Bernard’s album demonstrates agility, determination, ability to pivot and extreme warmth. If all the characteristics showcased in Bernard’s music were applied to our current tragedy, (we are nearing 200,000 avoidable COVID deaths, a milestone initially forecasted for November), the missteps could be rapidly remedied. It’s time to personify the “Freelance Subversives” role. Clearly what has transpired is not working. Bernard’s album illustrates the need for unconventional renegades. Let’s independently undermine the system.

I watch a lot of cable news. Way too much to be exact. ‘Bananas,’ ‘crazy pants,’ and ‘psycho’ are some of the descriptors used by broadcasters who can no longer conceal their bafflement or disgust when describing the current administration’s behaviors. America is completely out of control. It’s ‘Twilight Zone’ insanity. We cannot simply comment on the recklessness, contributing further to the lunacy. Our only option is to resist. David Shaw, lead vocalist of The Revivalists has debuted “Shaken” and “Promised Land” prior to his 2021 album release. The timing of these two songs couldn’t be more apt. Shaw’s tracks are raw, directed and empowering, instilling the power to fight on.

The “Shaken” video portrays Shaw’s younger self bullied and abused. Even if you haven’t been tormented by school yard peers the scenes are relatable. Fidgeting in fright, facing the threat, feelings of defeat, the cruelty repeated, exploding in fury, surmounting the pain and, if lucky, ultimately triumphing. “I’m still standing here, shaken, shaken.” The boisterous chorus is formidable in its meaning. The magnitude of the hurt will always run deep, leaving an impact. Even if there is a slight quivering, we tap our wells of inner strength. There is no giving up. (I’ve been there. My boyfriend tried to destroy me. That was his last earthly ‘gift.’ I didn’t accept it. I choose to resume living fully and with meaning, seeing the beauty in me.) The song is presented in an extremely upbeat, easily danceable fashion making the compelling message even more effective. I couldn’t help but smile watching Shaw throw himself about, his curly locks bouncing joyfully.

“Promised Land” is primal, with an underlying intentness and clear resolve. Shaw reinvents the blues, inserting a modern, tribal and somewhat gritty twist. The drums are punchy, even angry. The sliding guitar softly squeals before becoming at times both breathy as well as appropriately eerie in its oscillation. Shaw’s lyrics focused on the social injustices are hard-hitting and disturbingly relevant. His voice is commanding yet still tender, exposing the uneven dynamics that require immediate attention.

The loss of John Lewis and Ruth Bader Ginsburg are tragic. Their voices, (“Get in good trouble, necessary trouble and help redeem the soul of America.” – Lewis and “I dissent.” – RBG) equated righteousness and propelled ideologies that positively altered our collective consciousness. Music, when done well, can have the same affects. Shaw’s singles succeed in creating confidence, momentum, exposure and necessary mobilization around change. My only complaint is having to wait until 2021 to not only enjoy but benefit from Shaw’s album which illustrated by these two tracks is guaranteed to be outstanding.

My body always takes the brunt of my feelings. (The aftermath of a significant loss caused my right eye to twitch uncontrollably. In meetings I was convinced colleagues were distracted by my Quasimodo-ish appearance. I also experienced immense hearing sensitivity. The water hitting the shower pan or hum of the refrigerator drilled painfully into my head.) I often forget I suffer from this strange sensitivity, until countless visits to specialists determine I am not plagued by something terrible, rather it’s merely a stress reaction. Trevor Hall’s new album, “In And Through The Body” helped me realize, before heading down the doctor maze, my newest ailments are just the peculiar way I manifest the chaos around me. Unorthodox approaches are required to heal this bothersome condition. Fortunately, in Hall, I discovered a musical shaman.

The minute, twenty-six second opener, “Blue Sky Mind” initiated the healing ritual. Hall’s prayer-like lyrics are soothing, promising possibilities. “How you gonna get free this time? Falling into a blue-sky mind. Came to me in that song my friend. I just want to go back again. Hey. Mother standing around next to me. Showing me what I need to see. Hey. Rain is falling into my mouth. Flowers blooming all up and down. I’ve found. In and through the body…” His voice is ghostly and meditative, complimented by the repetitive reverberations that mirror a soulful, gospel choir. “Without Expectation” showcases style diversity, mixing folk, bluegrass instrumentals, spoken word and expressive vocal prowess. In the background the earthiness is strengthened by the deeply grounding, murmuring of what could be a cooing mourning dove. The mystical foundations of “Her,” “Never Gonna Break Your Heart,” or “My God” display natural elements contributing further to the curative properties of the tracks. The drumbeats in “Her” are like a light, unexpected but refreshing summer shower. Bees buzzing gleefully echo in the strings of “Never Gonna Break Your Heart.” A vibrant autumn wind howls through the keys in “My God.” In true medicine man fashion, Hall activates his surroundings, the album a lightning rod for growth, understanding, resolution and revitalization. Hall has a uniquely special tone yet there are glimpses of Peter Gabriel, Matisyahu, Ben Harper and Nahko And Medicine For The People. “My Own” is an excellent example of Hall pulling from all these talented influences, combining various genres from rock, reggae, hip hop, and folk.

I’m the epitome of health, but under extreme stress I fall apart. Internalizing the trauma, the bodily sensations overwhelm my being. I need to take to heart the message in “The Old Story” where Hall whispers with sweet, reassuring breaths, “Oh, no, no, no. You just got to let that old story go.” It’s not just that song. In each track, of this exquisitely, complex record, Hall has created medicine for my tormented soul.

“Beside You” is Dustbowl Revival’s enduring, emotionally stirring new single focused on love. The track is deeply influenced by the great Bill Withers, an amazing human I had the pleasure of knowing briefly. There are also obvious similarities between Van Morrison’s relaxed hallmark tone, Bob Dylan’s lyric poetry and even the sentiments presented in Sonny & Cher’s iconic duet, “I Got You Babe.” The slow instrumental rumble prefaces the fact that relationships are freaking hard. When rocky, emphasized in the drums’ intensity and surprising yet appropriate boom, the underlying pain shatters every part of your being, causing doubts about how, and if, you will ever love your partner again. The lead vocals join in honeyed harmony as the strings, horns and drums simultaneously reach their crescendo, underscoring there will always be tough patches. They test love’s resolve. Even though it’s rough, contributing to further misgivings, the beauty lies in the person who holds steady. No matter how difficult you and the entire situation may be, they do not waiver. They promise to be, “Right beside you babe. Whenever you need me. Right behind you babe. Whenever you need me. Whatever you need. Whatever you need.” That is the definition of sustaining love. Someone who still values and is there for you even at your darkest, meanest or grossest. A love that shouts loudly, “You can lean on me. You can use me up. You can use me up. You can use me up.” With their delicate yet passionate croons the band closes dynamically, providing reassurance these special souls, even when challenged, exist. They remain “Beside You.” I’ve been blessed by a few.

“What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.” Borrowing the monumental last lines of a Charles Bukowski poem, Sam Pace’s new single underscores the way you behave during challenging times defines your true character. It’s that simple. Yet sadly, decent decorum has been completely disregarded contributing to appalling, irresponsible, disheartening conduct, negatively impacting society. Thankfully, all hope is not lost. Pace’s new track, “What Matters Most,” propagates a critical message.

Charged from its onset, Pace’s commanding tone initiates the rousing song, chanting, “What matters most.” He is accentuated by the Gilded Grit’s baritone voices echoing key parts of the chorus. The instrumentals have a buzzy build up before becoming purely electrifying. The drumbeats are lively, loud and constant. Fullness is denoted in their power as well as precision. The distorted guitars are funky, clearly inspired by the 70’s but also have an 80’s, hair band feel, mirroring groups such as Whitesnake, Twisted Sister, Metallica and Guns N’ Roses.

Pace and his band collaboratively conclude by stressing, “Well. Well, well, well, well. That you walk through, walk through, talk, talk through ya. What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.” It's soulful, almost preaching like elements are appropriately calling for an evaluation of our core. Can you stand behind your behavior? Does your demeanor represent who you want to be? Are you the best version of yourself? In this intensely polarized environment, I wager many of us answered no. It’s time to practice as well as apply “What Matters Most.”

Becky Buller’s new album, “Distance and Time” scheduled to be released late October, captures my melancholy feelings surrounding the months of autumn. The season represents immense change, light versus darkness and according to Chinese tradition, sadness as well as courage. It’s not an easy time of year for me, but “Distance and Time” makes the pain a little less overwhelming.

The chorus of “Don’t Look Back” is an excellent reminder. “Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. The road you’re traveling is a one-way track. Got to look to the future cause you can’t change the past. Make the most of what you’re living and don’t look back.” Seven years ago, my entire existence was altered. I struggled with the ‘should of,’ ‘could of,’ ‘would have’s,’ re-emphasized in Buller’s instrumental interlude, until finally realizing I had to move forward. I needed to come to terms that “We Let Each Other Go.” (Although his ‘letting go’ was much more extreme than any normal break-up.) The tenderness in Buller’s voice and her long, sustained notes illustrate the complicated emotions when grabbling with a failed partnership. Her fiddle gently tugging at my still broken heart. “We let each other go. Let each other live and love again. How I don’t know. We let each other go.” Our relationship started off strong, like they usually do. Unfortunately, his darkness, in the form of despair, overtook the goodness. “All I needed was distance and time. Further I can get away, more I can see we choose what was right.” The nod to the album’s title hangs heavy on my mind. I didn’t select the outcome, but it is accurate. Nevertheless, I can’t forget the grief that plagued me. I was left behind trying to make sense of something incomprehensible. All while it seemed “Life Gets Up and Gets Gone.” Buller fuels the overpowering sadness I couldn’t escape during that period with her high-pitched, fast paced, skillful playing. “Life gets up and gets gone. Racing on and over me.” I wondered how I would ever reclaim joy, returning to some resemblance of normalcy.

“We are stardust, we are golden and we got to get ourselves back to the garden.” Buller initiates Joni Mitchell’s song, “Woodstock” famously performed by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young with resolute picking. There is no nonsense in her bluesy, invigorating version. Buller also brings flickers of Mitchell while adding her own radiant, rhythmic vocal patterns that run uninhibited up and down the scale. The tune’s lyrics compares the festival with the Garden of Eden, a place of innocence, peace and ultimate contentment. For me the song has always been incredibly uplifting. It symbolizes absolute delight and freedom, reflecting the emotions music as well as concerts have always inspired. A show was also what provided me the courage to reenter the world because, “we got to get ourselves back to the garden.”

“I stuck my head out. I caught the raindrops. I drank the water. I felt my veins block. I am nearly sanctified. I’m nearly broken. I’m down the river. I’m near the open. I’m down the river to where I’m going.” Through “More Heart Less Attack” I forgave myself. I realized change is inevitable. I recognized both the good and bad. I cried more than I thought was possible. Eventually with newfound courage, I accepted the reality. Buller’s extraordinary album exposed with “Distance and Time;” I not only reinvented myself, but I really like who I have become.

“Kindred Spirits” is Larkin Poe’s newest record consisting of eleven tribute tracks. A well-crafted cover album is difficult to pull off. These are imposing songs. Enthusiasts have strong emotional ties to the originals and their creators are legends. To succeed the reproductions must be unique and spellbinding. The sister duo already proving their prowess, this being their fifth studio record, clearly are not just a cover band. In fact, the translations further demonstrate Rebecca and Megan Lovell’s thoughtfulness as well as inventiveness unpacking and presenting the essence of a diverse range of tunes from the Elvis Presley’s classic “(You’re The) Devil in Disguise” to Post Malone’s “Take What You Want.” Larkin Poe has thrived in creating music that is not only comforting in its familiarity but enticing in its pioneering nature.

“Fly Away” with its accompanying music video captures my current mood. Overwhelmed with anxiety surrounding the looming election, “I wish that I could fly. Into the sky. So very high. Just like a dragonfly. I'd fly above the trees. Over the seas. In all degrees. To anywhere I please. I want to get away. I want to fly away. Yeah, yeah, yeah.” The video images of roaming creatures, tall trees, speeding trains, airplanes, the sun and moon tempt my imagination, while the steel guitar’s distinct, sad shrills strengthens my determination “to get away.” America is really struggling. It’s not as if we haven’t experienced challenging periods before. Neil Young highlights in “Rockin’ In The Free World” the 1980’s plights of homelessness, drug addiction and although not included in Larkin Poe’s version, the severe economic calamities illustrated in the third verse. The tenor is much more subdued in the sister’s rendition. The sorrow held steady in their voices correlating almost too well with our current climate. Why didn’t we listen? “There's a warnin' sign on the road ahead.” Phil Collin’s “In The Air Tonight” is particularly fitting. Again, the pair’s harmonies impeccably play off each other. Their richness in tone feeds the anger I feel towards the laptop lies, pandemic propaganda, tax evasion tales, diversity deceits and foreign relation falsehoods.

A cover song should alter the original, generating something novel while keeping its integrity. Often, they fail miserably. Not in Larkin Poe’s case. The record exceeds expectations. The Lovell’s style of well-placed, lyrical emphasis, soaring vocals and instrumentals defying the norm anchors as well as enhances each of the renowned tracks, creating a new sense of wonderment. The election process, particularly instilling a new president, is somewhat like debuting a cover tune. I am optimistic January will bring a fresh, honest, versatile and solid ‘cover.’ One that mimics but improves upon previous leaders who positively impacted our nation. We are down to single digits. Vote!

We live in an “Impossible World” filled with flawed structures, disregarded principles, senseless pain, and too many broken hearts. Front Country always gets to the core of difficult issues revealing the honest truths. They do this with clear intentions and absolute exquisiteness in every note.

James Truslow Adams, wrote “The American Dream is that dream of a land in which life should be better and richer and fuller for everyone, with opportunity for each according to ability or achievement.” The heart-racing strings and pounding drums in “Amerikan Dream” heightens the dichotomy our famous slogan promises while the fueled lyrics and incorrect spelling exposes the sad reality that the ‘dream’ isn’t accessible to everyone. Melody Walker’s powerhouse vocals hammer this throughout, but the initial lines are particularly compelling. “Running on credit, but the shipping is free. You’re free to believe in the American dream. Working in a warehouse with no A.C. You’re free to believe in the American dream. Dying on demand now. Living in a screen. You’re free to believe in the American dream. They say it ain’t a prison, ‘cause you can always leave. You’re free to believe in the American dream.” Disco as well as 1980’s influences in the form of synthesizers and similar sounds to the dynamic divas, Tina Turner and Chaka Khan make “Broken Record” a radical but interesting departure from Front Country’s bluegrass roots. Although seemingly carefree in tone the tune’s message and accompanying video doesn’t lack in substance. 2020 has not shied away from highlighting concerns surrounding the disenfranchised, particularly racial as well as gender disparities. Front Country stress these issues require repeating because, “If I sound like a broken record, you ain’t heard me yet.” The instrumentals vibrations and Walker’s measured vocals in “Make It Now” accentuate the longing and necessity to rise above the hardships, instituting change quickly. “Can we make it now? Can we make it now? Well, maybe there’s another way to a brighter day, but I can’t see how. Unless we make it now. No, I can’t see how, unless we make it now. Unless we make it now. Come on make it now.” The final track, “The Reckoning” was previously highlighted on Grateful Web. The song fittingly concludes Front Country’s socially charged LP.

There are so many album standouts, but “How Can You Sing” is my favorite. I keep returning to this earnest, chilling song that focuses on vulnerability and self-reflection. I’m drawn in due to my touchy-feely, social worker background that thrives on this type of subject manner. Tying the record together, the message is the most important. “How can you sing if you can’t cry? It’s like claiming to see while closing your eyes. How can you feel anything if you hold it inside? How can you sing if you never learn to cry?” If we don’t recognize as well as enhance these critical qualities, we won’t succeed or create change in this “Impossible World.” Front Country doesn’t just illuminate problems. Their music makes the unmanageable bearable while challenging us to be better humans.

I’m not a fan of Thanksgiving. I like being with family, the time off from work and of course all the decadent trimmings, but sadly it now signifies personal tragedy. Even the weeks heading towards Turkey Day causes debilitating anxiety. (Try not to die on a major holiday. It makes the healing process more arduous.) This year, due to the pandemic, my emotional state is much worse. I will be home instead of trying to enjoy a little vacation get-a-way to distract from the nightmare that transpired. Avoiding the day and skipping straight to Christmas never seemed like a possibility. Thank goodness for Michael Falzarano, guitarist, singer and songwriter, best known for his years with Hot Tuna as well as New Riders of the Purple Sage and his new album, “A Kaleidoscope Christmas.” It allowed me to ignore the negativity that surrounds the end of November and focus on the winter celebrations which brings round the clock, festive, Hallmark Channel programming, chocolate treats, Starbucks cups that somehow make the coffee taste better, presents but most importantly Falzarano’s jubilant and creative Christmas music.

I’ve always adored Christmas songs. I especially like when renowned artists develop holiday albums. It demonstrates they aren’t pretentious, but rather have a playful perspective appealing to a cross section of generations. Falzarano’s twelve tunes build upon the genres of blues, country rock, boogie woogie and improvisation jams making the music familiar but still uniquely his. “Jingle Bells Jam” is a classic but the organ and guitar solos provide a splendid spin. The organ is reminiscent of The Doors “Light My Fire” and The Animals “House of the Rising Sun” while sounds of Muddy Waters and Chuck Berry are alive in the guitar solo. Stoners can replace “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas" with Falzarano’s “4:20, 12/24.” The lyrics are fantastic and can be used as the excuse to get out of your awkward friend’s grueling party. “Well it’s Christmas Eve and I smoked more weed than I should have. I’m so stoned I can’t find the door. So, I guess I’ll just sit here on the sofa, kick back, smoke a little more.” The modern, honky-tonk feel of “It’s A God Almighty World” conjures images of a Texan, hole-in-the wall with very little to appreciate aesthetically except for the taxidermy beasts and overly sexualized posters of bikini clad women. During the Christmas season Falzarano’s holiday tune will play as patrons unspool their troubled minds with cheap beers, pursue one-night romances and dance drunkenly, their feet noticeably sticking to the wood plank floor. Music often focuses on lost or distanced love. Although Christmas is supposed to be, “The Most Wonderful Time of Year,” some of the most beloved standards center on this not so happy theme. “Christmas Blues” in its sincerity and musical prowess can join a list of holiday favorites like “Blue Christmas” or “Bells Will Be Ringing.” The eleventh track, “Boogie Woogie Christmas” is fun from its onset. The instrumentals are swingy with the echoing chorus reminding me of the bands that played every Tuesday night at The Derby. I would spend over an hour crisscrossing the city after a long day working, momentarily watching in glee as the floor filled up before being taken by the hand, escorted to a spot for lively lifts, flirtatious flips and tantalizing twirls.

Michael Falzarano’s “A Kaleidoscope Christmas” was a gift, catapulting me into the season two weeks earlier than normal. It wasn’t the present I asked for or even thought I wanted. Sometimes the best gifts just fall into your lap. Merry, early Christmas!

Life has changed dramatically since the start of the pandemic. No traveling, concerts, movies, drinks at bars, gym sessions or even weekly, mundane marketing trips. I now daydream about these previously unappreciated activities. Cat Ridgeway’s album, “Nice To Meet You” is how I will approach the world and each wonderful and sometimes even boring endeavor once it’s safe to resume some normality.

“Giving You Up” is initiated by country-rock guitars that brilliantly as well as effortlessly switch to an arresting soulful sound. The R&B horns and Ridgeway’s powerful, clear, no-nonsense vocals provide a punch forcing me out of my pandemic paralysis. “I like the way you charge the air. But I am not giving you up, anytime time soon. Cause I know if I did then I wouldn’t have anybody too. No, I’m not giving you up, anytime soon. No. I don’t want to have to try.” Although the tune is obviously focused around love of a partnership, I’m taking a different view. I’m not “Giving You Up” economy seat on a fourteen-hour flight, traffic jams to the Hollywood Bowl, an overpriced movie on a sleepy Sunday afternoon, terrible dates at local hot spots, moaning about the plank directive followed by eighty excruciating squats or wandering aimlessly through the grocery store, forgetting the toilet paper but purchasing the latest ‘People’ magazine and vegan, mint chocolate bar while grazing on delicious deli samples. “Sweet Like Candy” is Motown reinvented. Ridgeway’s voice has depth and body like predecessors Diana Ross, Syreeta Wright and Tammie Terrell. The carefree tune makes me want to pop a piece of Bubble Yum, watch muted episodes of “Soul Train” while dancing to Ridgeway in patterned bell bottoms, wedges and a gold sequin crop top. (Just a caveat, I will have to unmute briefly to hear Don Cornelius’ smooth, seductive tagline used to close the show, "and you can bet your last money, it's all gonna be a stone gas, honey! … as always in parting, we wish you love, peace and soul!" It’s quite fitting to listen to his closing since Ridgeway is a modern soul queen.) The last track, “I Don’t” is classic pop. The reverberating “Whoa Oh’s” and love frustrated lyrics are Taylor Swift-ish. “Cause I don’t like this. This is between bullshit. No, I don’t want this. Anymore.” Ridgeway is a real talent demonstrating her abilities to master a range of styles. Each tune is layered, creating a multi-faceted, vibrant album.

Pre-pandemic too many of us skipped over the “Nice To Meet You” formalities. We weren’t particularly gracious or appreciative. Once I escape from COVID jail, I’ll be doing things a lot differently. Cat Ridgeway’s record delightfully encapsulates the wonder, energy and authenticity I will apply to every aspect of my splashy and far too overdo, societal reentry.

Lilly Winwood’s claim to fame isn’t simply her iconic father Steve Winwood. The video release of “Few More Records” provides a delectable taste of Winwood’s definitive country style highlighting her rich vocals and ability to carefully craft thoughtful lyrics. The full-bodied, metallic twang of the guitars resonates forcefully, welcoming Winwood’s bright, steady voice. The upbeat tone and contrasting visuals of Winwood wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, sitting alone versus dancing uninhibitedly with her frustrations in a flirty pink, floral dress reinforces the song’s message. Winwood wrote the tune while on the road, feeling burnt out, desiring to return home. Instead of letting her emotions take over, she focused on the work that needed to be done, accepting the situation. At almost two minutes, the instrumentals kick up their intensity playing a key role in the video’s symbolism. The spirited guitars and raucously, energetic piano influences Winwood’s melancholy self to adopt her optimistic version that can boogie regardless of the negativity. Ever so slightly, the pensive Winwood sways and taps her foot, embracing, “But I still got a few more records to sell.” (I’m following her lead. I can’t give up now.)  

Winwood’s debut album, “Time Well Spent” is scheduled for release early 2021. It consists of eleven, vibrant tracks, including “Few More Records” which can be enjoyed now. “California” and “You’ll Know Where To Find Me” with their gentle and comforting timbre are other standouts although the entire record embodies its title. Each tune is “Time Well Spent.”

I adore people like Lilli Lewis. Besides being an extraordinarily talented artist who creates outstanding music, she is a mover and shaker positively influencing the community through her grassroots, social change efforts. Lewis’ single “My American Heart,” off her upcoming album, “Americana” demonstrates a caliber of genius. Lewis’ voice is breathtaking. She launches the song gently, sweetly and then soars effortlessly, displaying operatic qualities. (This makes sense since she was trained as an opera singer.) When Lewis hits the high notes, she personifies a contemporary Jessye Norman if folk rock had been her genre. The first lines introducing the perfectly placed, dramatic, rich expressiveness denoted in opera envelop my being. “My American heart. Knows you are more than just an able body. Hopes if your able body ever falters. Your wellness won't have much in the way.” All the instrumentals provide the appropriate support to Lewis, with the acoustic guitar and fiddle grounding the tune creating an ideal folkie, warm flavor.

It’s not at all surprising “My American Heart” has been hurting. Failed leadership, astronomical COVID deaths, inequity, losses surrounding normality are just some of the challenges underscored in 2020. Lewis’ lyrics are moving, bringing attention to our current climate. Particularly, the single illustrates Lewis’ commitment to making sense of the issues while simultaneously working towards the greater good. “We're in a difficult conversation. One that might go on for years. But in this difficult conversation. I want you to know I can see you, know I can hear you. Know I still pray for you. With my American heart.”

Lewis’ drive to make a positive impact seems to be a motivating factor in her music career. She collaborated with Corey J The Rapper and Kirk Joseph’s Backyard Groove to create the “MASK UP!” video that promotes wearing face coverings for the betterment of public health. The alliance showcases her varied repertoire. Through rap Lewis brings a critical message to the youth of New Orleans. (I know Lewis will be busy promoting her album, but in 2021 we need her to take on another vital gig. A pro-vaccine PSA must be next considering the success of “MASK UP.”) I am confident Lewis’ new record, “Americana” will be marvelous, not just in musicality but in creating deeper awareness of critical issues. Hope could have been lost this year. Lewis and dynamic people like her reignite my faith in humanity.

America is unrecognizable. 300,000+ citizens have died in a pandemic that could have been better managed. The government is sitting on a stimulus package that would ignite the economy and save livelihoods. People are refusing to take personal responsibility. Lies and misdirected efforts have derailed our focus. This is not the country I know. It’s humiliating and inexcusable, destroying our ideals as well as forcing us apart. Courtney Marie Andrews’ cover of Simon & Garfunkel’s “America,” performed in collaboration with Liz Cooper and Molly Sarlé reinforce that we must return to the America that once existed; a country of infinite possibilities, participation and positivity.

The soothing acoustic guitars and sweet, idyllic humming lays the song’s foundation. In Andrews’ first note I’m engrossed in her leading vocals that combine stirring exuberance with delicacy. She is complimented superbly by Cooper and Sarlé whose voices emanate the right amount of vulnerability. On the surface, the track is obviously about young love. (Paul Simon was inspired to write it after taking a road trip with then-girlfriend Kathy Chitty.) As the verses progress the lyrics shift. The strength in tonality doesn’t change, but there is a duality in the tune’s meaning. It’s more than just a couple’s journey sharing cigarettes and laughing as they make up stories. Its mood becomes serious, showcasing the raw feeling of detachment. “Kathy, I'm lost, I said, though I knew she was sleeping.”

It’s undoubtedly been a rough ten months. Although I have fallen into a routine and am extremely fortunate for all I have, I often feel discouraged, disengaged, even helpless with the plight before us. It’s bewildering and hence the words resonate. “I'm empty and aching and I don't know why. Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike. They've all come to look for America. All come to look for America. All come to look for America.” In the final lines, as the trio joins in harmony, they reinforce a key message, illustrating the importance of togetherness even when feeling so alone. Although still somewhat lost in the chaos, restless with malaise and filled with uncertainty Andrews’ rendition illuminates Americans, (even me too) have unbreakable spirits and drive. The humming resumes, filling my disconnected void with encouraged vibrations. We have been “empty and aching” but it’s time to rediscover “America,” pushing forward to a better future. Here’s to 2021!

Leslie Mendelson’s studio performance of "Happy New Year" celebrates this important benchmark while providing the optimism we desperately need after a whirlwind of a year. There is both simplicity and complicatedness in Mendelson’s tune. The piano which is the only supporting instrument is straightforward and gentle, creating an underlying, welcoming calmness whereas the intricately resides in her voice and lyrics. She expresses melancholy in each of her notes, even though the song’s words are uplifting. It’s as if she is consciously releasing the tensions and trials of 2020 which are enhanced by her poetic lines that weave the moving narrative. “The start of something new. God knows we need it. All that we’ve been through. It couldn’t come soon enough. All’s well that ends well. Washed away with the parade.” There’s also innocence, humility and pureness peppered with intense depth and passion that incites excitement of what can be. “Happy new year. I wish you the best of it. More than you’ll ever know. Love and good cheer. Here’s to the rest of it. May we be never alone. Oh, happy new year. I wish you the best of it. Silver bells carry us home. Love and good cheer. Here to the rest of it. May we be never alone. While we’re here, happy new year.”

Swiss psychologist and psychiatrist, Carl Jung stated, “I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.” I put a lot of weight on the new year after losing my partner; desperately hoping it would make my life magically better. Seven years ago, battered, and traumatized, I wanted an immediate fix. I was so disillusioned, even heartbroken when the new year turned out to be just an arbitrary date, not an instant solution for my life to suddenly shift. At the time, I was unable to see all the potential that lay before me nor did I have the sophistication to comprehend Jung’s wise words. Now, with experience I know circumstances improve, with hope always around the corner. I also learned we all have the power to release the anguish and pain from the past ushering in a brighter future. Life will not turn around at the stroke of midnight, but a new year is truly enchanting holding many amazing possibilities. Mendelson aids us in embracing it by wishing everyone a very “Happy New Year.”

This past week was astonishing, and frankly I still may be in a state of paralysis. Disturbing images of January 6th will be etched into my memory similar to the IRA bombings in the 90's; Londoners covered in blood and marked with silvers of glass. The unbelievable scenes of jumbo jets plowing into iconic, NYC buildings on 9/11 as office workers jumped from 60+ story windows and most personally the haunting visuals of a discarded shoe, open curtains, pool of vomit resulting from the repercussions of suicide. These experiences witnessed or lived cause horror and fear which can easily spiral out of control if not managed correctly. I took a breath, immersing myself in Tommy Emmanuel's acoustic, instrumental singles which will be released digitally via his “Imagine” EP on January 15. It was almost as if the universe knew I needed Emmanuel’s gentle, peace inciting music. His songs enabled me to coral my anxiety, briefly escaping the all-encompassing terror instigated by democracy’s erosion. That calming reaction, generated entirely from Emmanuel’s works, is truly powerful and was gratefully received. 

Emmanuel is a respected artist originally from Australia. His record includes John Lennon’s famous track, “Imagine” and two of Emmanuel’s originals, “Since We Met” and “I’ve Always Thought of You.” He released his rendition of Lennon’s iconic tune centered around harmony where humanity isn’t confined by division on October 9, 2020 coinciding with what would have been the musician and activist’s 80th birthday. (Coincidentally also my dead ex’s.) The video illustrates Emmanuel’s intensity and passion for Lennon’s spectacular song. Also, on display is the deep emotion and sincerity he puts into his craft. Emmanuel is connected to his guitar. Although a little battered from continued play his love and command of the instrument is apparent. The track is executed with such effortlessness, yet Emmanuel’s expertise is undeniable. Without the lyrics I drift into a contemplative, tranquil state which is desperately needed. I am soothed by Emmanuel’s re-arrangements that dance up and down the fretboards. “Since We Met” was released January 8th. The video was recorded last March in the back of Emmanuel’s tour bus. His song introduction, providing a brief history of its origin is compelling with Emmanuel’s glee shining through. There is sweetness and raw authenticity in the track. It radiates serenity and true romance. Again, I am ushered away into a reverie. “I’ve Always Thought of You” will be shared to correspond with the mid-month release though it was included in his 1999 record, “Only.”

I don’t think the chaos that ensued last week is over. Although I wish this wasn’t my perspective or our impending reality, Emmanuel’s album is being circulated at the opportune time. We all need music that provides an emblem of hope, a sense of stability and demonstrates utter creative genius to prove that the once unthinkable betrayals threatening to topple our core values can be overcome. Take the time to just “Imagine.”

The country’s energy immediately shifted last week and not because Mercury is in retrograde. (That’s not occurring until January 30th.) If you’re perplexed and silently questioning my changed outlook, I’m profoundly aware we are unfortunately, still amid an extremely challenging reality. Nevertheless, confidence, optimism and even a sense of normality was restored with the new administration. “Something Good” finally happened.

Born in Nigeria and now living in Manchester, Adeola “Ade” Fabola expressive single consisting of heartfelt, pure emotions can be applied to America’s current state although he wrote the song after England’s first national lockdown. The gentle, reassuring and complex guitar picking drew me in. I am instantly relaxed. Stuck inside on a cold, dreary, rainy LA day, feeling a bit alone I take in Ade’s lyrics unconsciously nodding my head in agreement. The meditative, repetitive tones wash over me as Ade’s earthy voice provides grounding as well as deeply needed encouragement. “When you’re beaten black and blue. When you question what is true. When it feels like all is lost. It’s okay to say, to say, to say…I could do with something good…”

The tune is uplifting while also being moody and reflective. The contradiction makes it even more interesting. It’s similar to Pharrell Williams’ “Happy” that received so much fame in 2013. Not in tone as Williams’ tune is extraordinarily upbeat. Its likeness is how “Happy” became an anthem. Ade’s single can play that same role, providing a unique and beautifully crafted mantra of hope when struggling to remember “Something Good” always transpire.  

Writing has always been a hobby. I created sonnets to unleash my teenage angst. I did my undergraduate thesis, basically a short story, about interning at an anti-gun violence nonprofit where I focused on the flavorful like shooting an AK-47, melting guns to transform them into art and working with ex-convicts in the Tenderloin. In my late thirties I launched into book reviews taking on the obscure to the popular, posting them on a funky Google blog earning a few bucks a month from clicks. Currently, I’m in the process of writing a memoir. It’s both draining and cathartic, making a return to a book review great fun as well as a welcome change of pace with Evan I. Schwartz’s release of “Revolver.”

Schwartz’s novel is primarily a tribute to music with a coming-of-age saga set in the late 70’s, early 80’s as its undertone. “Revolver’s” history is spot on in almost all aspects which makes sense as Schwartz has written five successful nonfiction books concentrating on a range of complex topics from media to technology. In Schwartz’s switch to fiction it is understandable that there would be a degree of poetic license. However, as a fervent Deadhead experiencing my life altering, first show at fifteen, I must clarify how the Grateful Dead acquired their name. In one of the chapters, Charlie explains to his father “the band’s name isn’t about being dead at all.” This is correct. Yet, he further elaborates, “It’s about having no fear of death. No worries. Enjoy life to such an extent that in the end you will be left with gratitude.” This isn’t quite right. The iconic band selected their name from the dictionary. The term is extraordinarily interesting, originating from folk legends in which a wanderer comes to a corpse’s rescue by graciously paying for its burial since the soul left his earthly life full of debts. As the nomad continues his journey, he is magically aided in an impossible task by the spirit of the dead person he lay to rest. The meaning is critically important for the Deadhead, hippie culture. It’s about generously giving to humanity and always doing what’s right. Fiction can vary from the truth as it makes storytelling much more appealing. Schwarz diversion from the facts works in every facet of the story except in this case which was somewhat there but needed just a tad more context.

To be totally transparent, there are issues. I struggled obviously with the depiction of the Grateful Dead’s meaning, but also the slow pace, long-windedness and who exactly is the intended audience, teens, or adults the protagonists ages now. It may seem as if I’m giving Schwartz a hard time. It’s quite the opposite in fact. I recognize sharing a creative endeavor publicly takes a lot of courage and is a great achievement. (Listen, I haven’t had my book published.) Even though there were challenges I found “Revolver’s” narrative to be original as well as quite clever and the publishing house’s philosophy of providing free books beautiful. Additionally, Schwartz highlights interesting historical tidbits for which I was unaware, stirs musical memories as well as imparts important lessons.

I had no idea Beatles’ records were burned and bans were called by fanatical Christians and members of the Ku Klux Klan. I loved the description of the decadent formaggio plate from Café La Fortuna where John Lennon frequented. In the pages where virginity is lost music is the backdrop. I’ve always known compositions and sex are the perfect partnership. Ben Harper played as my college neighbor and I sweetly explored each other once he woke up his flat mate to ask for condoms as all his had expired. Van Morrison streamed softly as a one-night fling and I were totally in tune. Charlie Hunter’s jazzy beats were the soundtrack for mind-blowing experimentation that was not just agile but completely improvisation just like the genre. Music ties into every big and small occurrence in my life, and not just sexually. A song can instantly make me smile or break into inconsolable tears thinking of the wonderful or truly miserable experiences they represent.

Finally, the novel contains lovely lessons. The reader is reminded never to take music for granted as its power is limitless. It immortalizes legends while encouraging the on-going appreciation of phenomenal groups from a wide array of genres. Most poignantly the book encourages generosity and innovative thinking. These two themes are illustrated within all the characters but also the Concord Free Press’ philosophy that “will give away 2,500 copies” and the reader is “asked only to donate to a cause they believe in or help someone else in need – then pass their book on so others can give.” We are plagued with some much suffering right now be it loss of life, jobs, and even access to food. I applaud Schwartz and Concord Free Press for offering another desperately needed avenue for giving and/or doing good. Enjoy “Revolver” and when you’re finished embrace the wonderful opportunity to be a change agent.

Valentine’s Day is lame. After this statement I am sure you instantly labeled me a disgruntled, single woman who has lost all hope in love. This is an incorrect assessment as actually I am a true romantic who loves fervently, yet I can wholeheartedly understand the initial reaction and placing me in the cold-hearted category. Regardless, hear me out as I have a multitude of sensible reasons for disliking V-Day. The first issue is the pressure to show love with overly priced red roses or tacky jewelry just because a national day, primarily benefiting large corporations, has been declared. (Honestly, I rather be surprised with sunflowers on a random Wednesday in May which demonstrate authentic admiration versus my sweets acting only because they were bombarded by Hallmark commercials.) A month before the holiday the market is a horrifying, overly done mess. Heart shaped balloons, ginormous, scratchy stuffed animals, and boxes of those awful tasteless, chalk like candies with stupid sayings attack your being immediately upon entry. Yet, my biggest gripe is its origins do not represent the best of love. In ancient Rome men tried to attract women by literally hitting them with animal hides they had recently sacrificed which as a bonus also supposedly aided with fertility. (As a side note…engaging in normal conversation would have been a more appealing as well as successful approach.) There was a matchmaking lottery where of course the men drew names of women who would be their forever partner. (This in fact probably sucked for both sexes as no one had a choice on their life match.) My favorite factoid is the holiday’s name sakes, three in total, were all violently executed. (Nothing says ‘Happy Love Day’ like a beheading, right?) In honor of this silly holiday a song questioning devotion seems fitting.

Connor Roff’s music video “Wishing Well” depicts an LGBTQ+ relationship. It is wonderful to see representations of true life within art, especially since inclusivity needs to be valued more intently. Yet, the orientation of the partnership really doesn’t matter as Roff has skillfully created a tune that is completely relatable since all relationships have the same frustrating challenges. That is an exceptional accomplishment and it’s not just the content that is pleasing. The vocals are alluring while also being haunting in their seriousness. There are echoes of Sam Smith, Ed Sheeran, Charlie Puth and James Arthur. The bluey rock guitar is soothing with the right mix of thickness and jangle. The video is masterfully edited with interesting abstract animation that has the perfect symbolism focused on how a relationship can leave you spinning, retreating, flying high in bouts of turbulence, blinded, drowning, or even swallowed up, especially if the dynamic is unbalanced. The other thematic element is the importance of introspection where Roff discovers his self-worth proclaiming, “I thought you were my wishing well. Maybe you still are. Cover up those scars. What happened to my wishing well?”

Love is complicated enough without the pressures of Valentine’s Day. My advice is do not get wrapped up in all the ridiculousness. Eat chocolate, write your sweetheart something beautiful, make love and know this is just one day out of the 365 that you can show affection and care. (See, I’m not that jaded after all.)

I’m in a funk. Most of the reasons have to do with COVID. This last week, we hit the astronomical milestone of 500,000 deaths. That number is tragic but what’s even more deplorable and weighs on me heavily is those losses could’ve been significantly reduced if during the previous year we had responsible, empathetic leadership. It feels like everyone around me is getting vaccinated, while I’m left behind. (This sparks junior high memories of pining impatiently for my first kiss or being picked last for dodgeball. Completely digressing; a ball being flung at an awkward, thirteen-year-old girl’s head is wrong on so many levels. What a ridiculous game to encourage with hormone exploding teens.) Anyways, I know it will be my turn soon enough but it’s hard to witness a somewhat return to normalcy by friends and family while I still must isolate to ensure my well-being. Yet, the dichotomy is I’m a bit freaked out about society re-entry. I’ve settled into this very bizarre way of functioning. (Could this be how prisoners feel after years of incarceration?) Finally, I’m lacking motivation around writing which makes me crazy. Overall, I’m feeling emotionally spent, a bit anxious with a hearty splash of blah. It’s not a good combination.

At the height of my emotional distress, I listened to “Duality,” Jake Rudin’s project NTHNL’s track from his new album “Tranquility Studies (Vol. 1).” The five-minute instrumental tune is characterized as ambient with meditative, hypnotic qualities. Ambient music originates from a mix of diverse genres such as avant-garde, folk, jazz, world sounds and even classical. Hence, the track’s title is perfect, illustrating complimenting yet somewhat contrasting musical varieties in its strong jazz feel yet still trancey in its peacefulness. “The release functions both as music and as a type of therapy for accessing specific states of mind.” It promises to be “apt if you would like to purge yourself of a certain feeling or mindset.” I didn’t read the publicity materials before experiencing the song. (I often don’t in order to develop my own, unbiased take.). The arrangement starts off organically. Instantly I breathe a bit deeper. Really kicking in, I feel freer in its wildness while the natural sounds provide a soothing element. I’m still not entirely myself, but Rudin’s music delivered on its promise, shaking me a bit out of the doldrums. What’s even better is the track did it without being that weird New-Agey stuff that often dominates the genre. Take in some of Rudin’s good vibrations!  

“And I don’t get anxious about my pancreas. To be honest, I’m not even sure what that thing does. I’m just so grateful that it’s in me.” Working at the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network (PanCAN) this line immediately stuck out. I was streaming Ryan Montbleau’s new record but was distracted making a cup of tea. Hearing my non-profit’s namesake as the kettle began to spit and shout, I realized I had to dive further into “Ankles,” or my work would never forgive me. The song seemed silly from the first lines, “I am thankful for my ankle. And I never think about them, but they balance me wherever I go. Unless I’m sitting down and then I think about them even less you know.” Once I started to pay attention, I recognized the profoundness of its meaning. The tune is also addicting. I absolutely adore Montbleau’ calming vocals and the earthy tones of the instrument arrangements that all mix together perfectly to create the bedrock of folk music.

“Wood, Fire, Water, and Air” is Montbleau’s new multi-part album. “As the songs took shape, it became clear to Montbleau that there were discrete themes at work within the larger collection, both sonically and emotionally. Rather than release the entire 15-track record all at once, he decided he would unveil the album more deliberately over the course of four separate EPs, each inspired by an element of the natural world.” There are only three songs on the “Wood” release. Since I was already in the middle of “Ankles” I stayed with it and put the tune on continuous replay. It instantly reminds me of Mama Cass’ “Make Your Own Kind Of Music,” especially its chorus. The two songs even have similar meanings reflecting on how to live life. I was also drawn in to how Montebleau’s voice is a wonderful mixture of Cat Stevens’ in “Father and Son,” Van Morrison’s many classic hits, a touch of Bob Dylan as well as Chris Stapleton. Jumping around, I next listened to “Perfect.” I want a guy to find me perfect with all my imperfections and goodness there are plenty. Frankly, I’m a bit of a shit show. (On the positive side, I’m not boring.) Montebleau lovingly declares, “I think you’re perfect. And I know you’re not perfect. And that’s what’s perfect about you.” The words are so sweet but what’s even more endearing is the song’s protagonist is a mess too. “Oh, I’m a sight to see. And I got to work on my core. And I sort of dribble when I pee. And apparently, I snore. But I’m perfect. And I know I’m not perfect. And that’s what’s perfect about me.” He admits it wasn’t always apparent, but with the aid of therapy came to an epiphany. “If things don’t have to be perfect, it’s a lot easier for them to be right.” We all deserve someone who embraces these beautifully, accurate mentalities. (I have a big crush on Montbleau. It’s too bad he’s coupled up.) The last track “Outside Looking In” is another heavy reflection on how to live. The other two tracks are cheekier where the last is a tad more serious, except for the chorus. “Danger, danger, call the fire ranger...”

The elements are truly a wonderful way to showcase Montbleau’s immense talent. So far, “Wood” hits the mark with polished, well-made, authentic tracks that are solid, rich, heavy, grounded, and completely natural. I can’t wait for the rest of the “Fire, Water and Air” releases. It feels much like the anticipation, yearning for the start of a new season of “The Handmaid’s Tale” or “Stranger Things” especially when the next installment, “Fire” promises to consist of tunes with blazing fervor. Let the fireworks begin!

I was fortunate to be invited to virtually partake in National Geographic's premier of “Genius: Aretha,” the third series in its anthology franchise. (Albert Einstein and Pablo Picasso were the focus of the first two seasons.) For me personally, Aretha Franklin is almost as influential as the Grateful Dead and interestingly, I find that there are quite a few correlations between the iconic musicians. In and after high school a dear friend and I would drive across town to the hustle and bustle of Hollywood to dance the night away at Club 70’s. On the way home, still exploding with excitement, we would sing our hearts out to “Chain of Fools,” “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman,” and of course “Respect.” That memory, like Dead shows, automatically produces a smile. As I got older, Franklin’s melodies were the backdrop while getting decked out for dates. It didn’t matter whether the outcome of the engagement was good or bad as I could always count on Franklin to soothe my soul. The Dead also have this pacifying effect. Franklin’s ability to master any genre from gospel, blues, jazz, even pop and hippy rock, allowed me to explore new artists expanding my musical repertoire. The Dead accomplished this too while also expertly taking on varying sounds. Consider their disco period. I also credit and am grateful to Franklin for developing my discerning ear. Most importantly, Franklin’s dedication to philanthropy focused on social justice has paved the way for my work mostly around gerontology, death and dying as well as devastating diseases. I found Franklin’s activism truly inspiring just like members of the Dead who also devoted themselves to a range of important, charitable causes.

Before launching into the sneak peek of the first episode viewers were treated to brief dialogues and stellar performances including Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright, showrunner and producer Suzan-Lori Parks, trumpeter Marquis Hillon as well as the Detroit Youth All-Star Choir. Following the program Cynthia Erivo, who stars as the Queen of Soul, sang a moving set of Franklin’s staples from the Greek Theatre in Los Angeles. Erivo’s voice is enchanting. She brings electrifying energy to each showstopper. The performances, not just by Erivo but the entire cast will be the highlight of the series which can also tout having industry heavyweights Ron Howard and Brian Grazer as executive producers. “Genius: Aretha” will premiere Sunday, March 21 on National Geographic with the rest of the episodes airing the following three days. All eight shows will be available on Hulu on Thursday, March 25 to correspond with Franklin’s birthday. (She would have been seventy-nine. Sadly, Franklin died of a neuroendocrine tumor, a rare type of pancreatic cancer.)

For me, the series based on Franklin and her enduring impact both musically and socially couldn’t be more opportune. I’m furious witnessing the atrocious, racist acts of the GOP to stifle Black American voters. I’m horrified by the humanitarian crisis at the border and am stupidly struggling to get my groove back now that I have been partially vaccinated and can regain a bit more normality. Franklin has always empowered, encouraged, and energized me. I’ll be using the series as a springboard to reclaim my fighting spirit which as of late feels a bit beaten down but desperately needs to be reactivated. When not watching the series, Aretha is going to be on constant replay as, “You’re All I Need to Get By.”

Writing is how I make sense of everything. This relatively simple act of expression is extraordinarily cathartic. Trauma and pain are immediately liberated. The truly bizarre and fabulous can shine while simultaneously providing a healthy, sometimes even hysterical release. Mary Gauthier writes in her memoir, Saved By A Song: The Art and Healing Power of Songwriting, “Storytellers have power; they are not voiceless victims. In a song we are given the authority to be the writer of the story instead of the paper it is written on. We become the narrator instead of the narrated, turning our story into something that might be useful to others. The empathy the song generates connects the songwriter to their own pain in a new way, a way that is reparative, rewiring broken circuits. Also, and this is very important, the storyteller can shape the ending, moving the story forward in a brave new way.” Gauthier’s passage speaks to me profoundly. I’m far from where I need to be in writing my own story, but what I have created thus far has given me solace. Gauthier has motivated me to finish my memoir, to share my raw, sometimes repulsive reality. Hopefully, my book, like Gauthier’s will make a difference to someone struggling, hurting, or just needing to know they aren’t alone. Gauthier is not only a talented, award-winning singer/songwriter but also bravely illustrates in her new book the artistry and redemptive power of creativity.

Gauthier guides the reader through her difficult journey of sobriety and self-acceptance which ultimately leads her to giving back in a multitude of wonderful ways. Gauthier has done incredibly moving work with SongwritingWith:Soldiers, a non-profit dedicated to “using songwriting as a catalyst for positive change.” Veterans develop unique ways to share their story to “rebuild trust, release pain, and forge new bonds.” (I’m thrilled to have learned of another tremendous organization to begin supporting.)  

Obviously, Gauthier’s biography plays a huge role in helping readers understand and channel tragedy. It also explains the draw to the creative process. A lovely passage which captured me with its immensely accurate analogy states, “Artists are like firemen; when the rest of the world is running away from the explosion, they run to it and report back. Artists feel the heat, touch the burn, write the things they have to write, the particular story they are on fire for, the one that breaks their own heart, the one that only they can tell. The ask is this: no matter how many songs you’ve written – each time, the struggle is to get back to that singular place where it is just you and the fire alone in the room.” This paragraph is spot on, describing brilliantly the feelings experienced by anyone who writes regardless of the product be it a song, poem, story, etc. Writing sometimes feels crazy, especially when you willingly showcase all your vulnerabilities and idiosyncrasies. Gauthier shares writing “helps me to navigate the powerful emotional weather systems of life. When the storms come, as they always do, they provide genuine songwriting motivation. After the wind dies down and the water recedes, I’m driven to try and make sense of what happened, try to make meaning out of what at first glance appears to be chaos. I write songs because I am called to.” Gauthier helped me to realize, I’m really not that nutty after all. It may sound egotistical but writing also calls to me. If you’re needing a glimmer of hope, a reminder creativity is powerful or that it’s pretty darn healthy to write away tribulations, pick-up Gauthier’s Saved By A Song which will be available July 6, 2021.

I didn’t grow up in a small town. Los Angeles is quite the opposite in fact. I absolutely adore my city, but it’s hustle and bustle hardened me in many ways, especially thinking back to first meeting my significant love of almost twelve years. In comparison he was softer, innocent, and much more naïve than me due to his upbringing in the rural Midwest. Walmart was the hub of the community. Upon visits multiple excursions each day were made to the superstore since there wasn’t anything else to occupy our time. A few fast-food joints lined the main road. If you didn’t want a burger, you could stop at the gas station store for fried chicken or pizza. Starbucks, my link to normalcy was a forty-five-minute drive down a two-lane highway flanked by cornfields. Being a native Angeleno from the swanky Westside, heading to my Starbucks I pass yoga studios, overly priced, fresh pressed juice stores and women so done up it is surprising they are off to the gym versus a cocktail party. Although jaded by my community, I have always remained down to earth and authentic. Sadly, living in LA my previously sweet boyfriend changed, becoming Caylee Hammack’s “Small Town Hypocrite.”

Hammack’s single is deeply personal, evaluating and even criticizing the choices we make staying with a destructive partner. In each note sang, her fury is alive, and the pain is real with explosive, radiating energy that touched my core. With raw, tender emotion, reminiscent of country’s queen, Dolly Parton, especially the similarities in her comforting, reassuring sound, Hammack repeatedly questions, “Ain’t that some shit?” That line sums it up brilliantly. The hurt is relatable and the situation completely flabbergasting. Hammack also expresses extreme vulnerability in the chorus which for me was another gut punch. “And I’m staring at a picket fence. Wonder where the hell time went. And I should’ve been running, running, running by now. But I just hang around.” Hammack’s song features Chris Stapleton whose signature vocals enhance the track and are symbolic. Stapleton’s voice echoes in the middle and tail end of the tune reminding me of my partner who disappointedly derailed the dream, leaving behind only a broken heart.

My boyfriend lied, cheated, and eventually went bat shit crazy. It’s not all his fault. I take accountability as there are always two sides of a relationship and believe me, I was far from perfect. At the end I lied and cheated too. (Yeah, I have faults, but honestly who freaking doesn’t?) I still chastise myself for staying too long, resorting to bad behaviors, feeling as if I didn’t do enough to protect him and even giving up. However, we can’t focus on the could have, would have, should haves. Hammack’s final prose illustrates that perfectly. “And now I bitch about how things turned and how they should’ve been. The bridges that I burned and the trains I didn’t catch.” That relationship, just like growing up in LA made me who I am. So, ultimately maybe I can use Hammack’s tune to see the silver lining of my “Small Town Hypocrite.”

Beth Whitney’s new record, “Into the Ground” set for release May 28th sparked a wave of intense emotions that clearly have been brewing for quite a while now. I hadn’t realized the extent of my feeling as I’ve been cocooning. Whitney’s music helped me to see I’m distracted by a myriad of issues and hence desperately need grounding. To start off, April through June is always marked by the hubbub of the fiscal year’s end, but I’m also preoccupied by the despicable behaviors of a disgruntled colleague. Therefore, I cried listening to “You Leave a Light On” where Whitney emulates Norah Jones in her powerful, but gentle vocals and purposely placed piano riffs. The tune is fundamentally about love, but metaphorically it gave me hope that the light will be left on and therefore this current rough patch will get better. “You leave the light on. When the river’s been run, and the encore has been sung and the last call is done. You leave the light on. You leave the light on.”

My phone has been flooded with stories of successful suicides, a few attempts and the overwhelming stressors that come with aging parents. Sadly, friends are struggling, and their misery is deep. “Shelter From the Storm,” an iconic Bob Dylan cover which Whitney transforms into her own, reinforced my place within their woes. The lighthearted banjo is a beautiful contrast from the song’s profound meaning. Whitney also accentuates the tune further by adding her own lyrics to the last verse which summarizes why once completing my part of lending a hand, I must take some time to hide away, protecting myself from their pain. “It’s a never-ending battle for a piece that is always torn. Come in, she said, I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

Finally, I’m grappling with getting back to the me before the pandemic. Perhaps that’s not necessary, and this new version will suffice, but I’m not sure yet. Right now, I’m “In Another Life” struggling as depicted in the explanation of the song within the album’s press release, “between looking forward and letting go and looking back and holding on.” Whitney’s guttural, genius tones that are purely organic push me to embrace I’m just a “Wild Horse” with its mix of personas. “My feet are on the ground, but I wouldn’t know it. I wouldn’t know it. Cause I’m stuck in my head for now, up in my shoulders, up where I told ya. When it’s daytime I’m afraid. I’m a lion in a cage. I’m a puppet on an empty stage. When the day is bright and blue, I’m a shadow of the moon. I’m an echo in an empty room.” The confusion is okay as eventually, hopefully, I’ll integrate the timid with the “wild running thing.” Until then Whitney’s entire album has supported me. (It’s that freaking good.) She has literally put me “Into the Ground.”

I’ve been disappointed a lot. I probably received more than my fair share with my dad being a big offender. He not only paved the way in modeling disappointments but has continuously failed me. (Even though my dad is really lame, if I were to rank the worst, the boyfriend who took his life in my bathroom would get the coveted spot as the number one letdown. I guess it’s always great to be a winner at something. However, don’t worry dad, you’re not far behind.) I never write about my father as the damage is done, that chapter has long been closed and frankly, he doesn’t deserve that much weight. Nevertheless, Greg Anton’s new single, “Heaven Only Knows” triggers the realities of all the immense disillusionments, particularly from my father.

“Heaven Only Knows” lyrics were penned by the notorious singer-songwriter and poet, Robert Hunter best known for his work with the Grateful Dead. The band comes together to take the magic of Hunter’s lyrics and enhance them further. The guitar (Futoshi Morioka), keys (Ken Greene), bass (Chris Wilson) and drums (Greg Anton) welcome you into quite a sad song lyrically that in contrast employs an upbeat, high tempo nature perhaps to balance out the seriousness. Suzanne Sterling keeps the energy going bringing traditional country passion to each heartfelt line. Collaboratively the band creates a sweet and earnest composition.

I keep returning to the chorus, “Don't try to teach me. Don't try to reach me. Don't try to make me like you. Heaven only knows, you're the very reason I do like I do.” It’s been more than twenty years now since I gave up on my dad. Instead of being mad at his despicable behaviors, torn apart he’s no longer in my life or as many people do use their dysfunctional parents as an excuse for their mistakes, I choose to neither give him power nor and most importantly repeat his failures. “Heaven Only Knows” reinforces I’ve made the very best decision by walking away.

“Heaven Only Knows” Lyrics

there's a little park on the avenue

where the prams roll past when the sky is blue

where hope and joy seem almost real

before I remember not to feel

sometimes I go there in the pouring rain

driven outdoors by the threat of pain

soft kind of ache at the back of my mind

cold kind of shadow creeping up behind

don't try to teach me

don't try to reach me

don't try to make me like you

heaven only knows

you're the very reason I do like I do

I'm a latch key child with tenement eyes

that look right through all the bullshit lies

nothing to prove and nothing to hide

go where I go for the sake of the ride

that's what it's like to have no dream

it's got its moments, or so it would seem

precious moments when everything fits

when the jury's hung and the judge acquits

don't try to teach me …

love is the answer, love is the key

that's what you say when you're sounding on me

I've heard it before, guess I'll hear it again

maybe I'll believe it, but I won't say when

no I don't hate you, I just look away

ain't worth the air that you breathe to pray

ain't worth the ground where you make your stand

with your little tin drum and your big brass band

how could you teach me anything

'cept how to slap and how to sting

how to fool yourself and everyone who

for some strange reason wants to be like you?

don't try to teach me...

One of the tents disappeared but the heap of trash maintained by aggressive vagrants keeps growing. I avoid that area entirely. It used to be a normal route on my runs, but it’s too frightening now. Every day I watch as the situation becomes grimmer. Friday at 1:45 a.m. I was shaken awake, not by an earthquake which is typical for LA, but loud, obscene music and hollers. I peered out my blinds like Mrs. Kravitz from Bewitched. Discombobulated from the early hour and without my glasses all I could make out were some people gathered around a bike. It also looked like they were constructing a tent directly across from my home. Not wanting to alert my new, but definitely not desired neighbors I navigated without the light gingerly downstairs hoping desperately not to fall in order to retrieve my glasses. Safely back in my bedroom I was relieved to discover that it wasn’t a tent, but a larger trailer attached to the bike. Two men and a woman remained on the side of the road while the terrible music persisted. I watched dumbstruck as the scene became more distressing. The men began to fight. One was pushed violently into the road. Before he could stand the other perpetrator threw a bottle. Being hit he cried out in agony. The woman pleaded for them to stop. At that point I was on the phone calling the police. I heard more bottles crashing, glass exploding and shrieks of terror.

West End Junction released their debut single, “Little Sister Cedar Tree,” on July 2nd. Its ethereal quality would have been a better backdrop to have woken me from my deep slumber than the ruckus coming from the bike’s monstrous stereo system. However, the alternative, mysterious, almost eerie nature of their tune might have made an already upsetting situation feel even darker. That may be why I find it so appealing. It’s so different. I especially adore how the song’s constant, intense almost thriller movie soundtrack generated from the keys, percussion, and guitar combined with passionate vocals makes your soul ache wanting more. Luckily, the single will be followed by Cara and Dan Ristau’s EP Wandering Minds.

West End Junction’s song isn’t about the homeless crisis. “If only I had known you then. Maybe I could have saved you in the end. In that other life I prayed for peace. For breathless innocence struggling in the heat. You can see I am slipping in and out of the fog. The blue sky hiding the darkness in us all.” However, in my bedroom cocoon, gazing through the window in the dead of night I was struck by their lines. Both the deep seeded sorrow nestled within and how “Out here I’m a little bit closer to you.” Honestly, I hated being woken up in that manner, feeling frightened as well as continually watching my beloved city transformed for the worst but “Little Sister Cedar Tree” although not meant to be the message of the release, reminded me of our shared humanity, allowing for more and much needed empathy.

What the Hell Is Wrong With Me. Goodness, pretty much everything! I can easily go down the rabbit hole of self-doubt and degradation. Frankly, I am quite adept at that, and I bet I’m not alone. We all can relate to being our nastiest critic. However, it’s not a good quality nor beneficial to our overall well- being. Sean McConnell’s new video, featuring Fancy Hagood, which is part of his album, “A Horrible Beautiful Dream” musically is an extremely buoyant country tune. Yet, its upbeat, and lighthearted
nature contains a vital and sincere message stated tactfully in the lyrics, “But I’m learning not to be my own worst enemy.” Truly, after the last year and a half filled with so much dysfunction and craziness of course, we are all a bit of a freaking mess in this upside-down world! Why aren’t we more patient and loving with ourselves? Let’s stop constantly questioning, “What The Hell Is Wrong With Me.”

My first concert was Willie Nelson in January of 1984. I was only eight years old. My mum took me as her date since my dad was sick. We trekked across town to the Universal/Gibson Amphitheatre which was later demolished for The Wizarding World of Harry Potter attraction at Universal Studios Hollywood. I remember it being cold and rainy. Regardless of the weather, Angeleno’s were decked out in their country finest. Dark denim, blinged out belts, rhinestone-embellished cowboy hats and Americana regalia filled the theatre. Both the atmosphere as well as the music were transformative even at that very young age. Marc Myers’ book, Rock Concert: An Oral History as Told by the Artists, Backstage Insiders, and Fans Who Were There takes me back to that very first concert and the many, many more I have been so fortunate to enjoy.

Myers is a music writer for the Wall Street Journal. He also wrote Anatomy of a Song. Again, his love and passion for the art is on display in his second book that provides a captivating history of five decades of rock concerts from the perspective of entertainers, promoters, producers, the crowds, etc. He brings to life the very interesting and often untold history of Black musicians and how they truly altered the industry in the late 1940’s. The account of Kay Wheeler, president of the first Elvis Presley fan club is both lovely and comical. She recalls, “One Saturday in late 1955, she (Kay’s aunt) took me and Linda to the station. Bruce Hayes, a DJ came out of the studio, saw us, and offhandedly said, I can’t believe how ridiculous this guy Elvis Presley’s name is. I protested: That’s not true. I have a fan club for him. He’s going to be the biggest thing ever. The truth is the fan club consisted of me, my sisters, and my cousin. As a gag the following weekend, Hayes played an Elvis record and then announced that if listeners wanted to join the Elvis Presley Fan Club, they should write to me, the club’s president. Then he read off my address.” Myers’ odyssey continues detailing Joan Baez’s memories of what it was like to perform at the March on Washington. However, before her account I love how Peter Yarrow from the folk group Peter, Paul and Mary relays how their roles were as activists not solely musicians on that groundbreaking day.

I particularly enjoyed the chapters focused on the late 1960’s and 70’s as that music speaks to me. Additionally, born at the end of 1976, I really feel I missed my era. Goodness, I so wish I attended the magical Monterey Pop Festival to experience legends like Janis, Country Joe & the Fish, Hendrix as well as Otis Redding. However, since the Festival has always been painted in such an ideal, glowing light I had no clue about some of the frustrations felt by artists such as Steve Miller. In his excerpt he voices that when the WHO smashed instruments at the end of their set “It felt like they had pissed on the stage, the audience, the recording equipment, and especially the whole idea of peace, love, and happiness that they tried to embrace later.” Of course, there was the incredible lineup at Woodstock highlighted brilliantly by Meyers. Yet, it’s the 1968 Sky River Rock Festival and Lighter Than Air Fair held on a raspberry farm which sounds both idyllic and perhaps even more my scene with all the hippie food vendors. I really dug all the intimate descriptions ranging from Amalie R. Rothschild, the official and only woman photographer at Fillmore East to the grueling touring schedule depicted by The Grateful Dead’s Bob Weir. The voyage is wrapped up by Myers highlighting stories from the Live Aid concerts in London and Philadelphia. Regardless of your preferred music genre, Myers’ new book is highly entertaining. Rock Concert, which will be released in November, takes readers on a journey similar to a really stellar show. It’s moving, powerful, and will leave a lasting impression.

Grateful Web gave me the opportunity to write. My first review was on the documentary film, Once Were Brothers: Robbie Robertson and The Band in late February of 2020. In March, the pandemic hit and I, along with the rest of the world, was dumbstruck. Completely lost, I found solace in churning out music review after review. During my tenure, I have also shared my perspective on the National Geographic’s premier of “Genius: Aretha” and a few books. Music and reading provide me with immense joy. I imagine there are lot of other Grateful Web fans who love spending time with a good book too. Perhaps, like me, you have your favorite tunes playing in the background while devouring your latest read. Although not music or Dead specific Grateful Web has graciously allowed me to submit book reviews of my latest reads. Let’s see how this goes.

Do you remember the classic children’s book, Goodnight Moon written by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Clement Hurd? With poetic, sweet lines like, “And a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush,” Brown grabs the reader or listener in every page. It is understandable why 77 years after its publication Goodnight Moon would continue to garner attention and such love. After reading Goodbye, Vitamin by Rachel Khong I couldn’t stop thinking about Goodnight Moon. Yes, these books are drastically different, and I realize ‘Goodnight’ is not ‘Goodbye,’ but there are correlations between these two reads. Hear me out.

Goodbye, Vitamin tries desperately to be whimsical, quirky and even poignant but sadly misses the mark unlike its predecessor with a slightly different title. I found Khong’s style of both narrative and diary entries disjointed, lacking cohesion. A premise that should have been interesting, a young woman managing the breakup from her fiancé and moving back in with her parents to care for her father who has an Alzheimer’s diagnosis is sadly boring. After working at the Alzheimer’s Association for 10+ years, I know this story could have had great dimension. Also, I really struggled to connect with the narrator, her family and the peripheral characters as there is absolutely no depth or substance to them. Finally, Khong tries to be funny sharing mundane observances, but the prose falls flat. “Sometimes I like a hangover because it’s something to do. This morning’s is a rodent: pesky but manageable.” It is blah, right? This is why I kept thinking of Goodnight Moon. That story has unforgettable lines. “Goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere.” Or “Goodnight nobody. Goodnight mush.” The lines are enchanting, somewhat ridiculous but also spark the imagination.

Yet, one of Khong’s entries did stand out. “Today we went over to your mother’s friend’s house for dinner. We’d asked you to be polite, so you said, “No more, please, it’s horrible thank you.” Khong, I laughed out loud. You deserve kudos for those sentences and even though I have given Goodbye, Vitamin a terrible review I honor anyone who creates. It is hard to put yourself out into the world. It is even harder to get published. Although I ponder why this novel has received so many accolades and during and after the read I felt disappointed, I still recognize as well as commend your work. Okay, on to my next read and review…

Bob Marley: One Love is not a fantastic flick. There are a lot of issues within the biopic, one of which is that it only focuses on a few key years in this icon’s life. It is a snapshot that could have been so much richer. Not knowing anything about Marley’s life, I conducted my own research. The film would have been stronger if historical background was provided especially on the dueling parties within Jamaica which led to the explosive political climate as well as causing Marley’s exile. It was glossed over but not fully explained. A missed opportunity.

I wanted more on Rastafarianism! What are the tenets of the religion? What drew Marley to the movement? How did it play a role in shaping him? Marley was a revolutionary. Not just in the unifying music he created but how he challenged colonialism, racism, stood up for the economically disadvantaged, pushed love, acceptance and compassion. To do Marly justice all these aspects should have been explored, perhaps even tying them, if appropriate, to Rastafarianism or his political activism. Another missed opportunity.

A big problem is the flashbacks. I’m okay with the ones featuring Rita, Marley’s wife. Those made sense and built that storyline. However, there were repetitive themed ones focused on his father who was a white military captain. These take place in what appears to be a burning sugarcane field. Sometimes his father emerges on a horse. Other times young Marley is alone in the field, surrounded by a raging fire. Towards the end of the film, instead of his white father a Black man materializes on the horse. Not having any background of Marley’s history, these scenes are confusing. Yet again a missed opportunity to explore and expose this obviously important relationship.   

Another criticism and the final missed opportunity is not depicting Marley’s journey as an artist. We get a glimpse of how the band got started but I wanted to understand Marley’s role in the development of reggae. Perhaps I’m asking for too much, especially from a film with so many other problems.

Ultimately the movie is saved by two factors: the acting and the music. From the opening scene, Kingsley Ben-Adir channels Marley’s essence providing a realistic portrayal of the legend. Lashana Lynch who plays Rita embodies strength. She is the tough but loveable matriarch, creating an endearing character. I credit Ziggy Marley, Bob and Rita’s son’s involvement in the film’s creation for ensuring the accurate depictions of his parents. And of course, there is the music! As I said, the flick was a disaster on many levels and didn’t capture the true complexities of Marley’s life. However, for one hour and 47 minutes, I put aside the ‘painful’ issues and escaped into the music. “One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain. So hit me with music, hit me with music.”

“Sounds weird and it’s probably not my thing,” was my initial retort when told one of the narrators in Remarkably Bright Creatures is an octopus. Well, it is a little strange, but I was so wrong about this beautifully crafted novel not being my type of book. Thank goodness I didn’t listen to my inner voice and purchased Shelby Van Pelt’s debut page-turner.

The book is well-paced with a soap opera-ish style of the chapter’s shifting to an array of lively characters, keeping the reader enthralled. Marcellus, the octopus, is obviously the star! How can you not be captivated by an ingenious, naughty octopus who terrorizes his aquarium by night? Tova is a curmudgeon but becomes increasingly endearing as the story unfolds. I see myself in her as she gossips and snacks with her longtime girlfriends that dub themselves the Knit-Wits. Cameron is a disaster, messing up every opportunity. Yet, he is both likeable as well as relatable. Van Pelt creates multifaceted characters who tackle complex issues such as belonging, adapting, and managing fear, loneliness, grief and ultimately death. She imparts these critically important life lessons without boring the reader. In fact, she ensures the story remains whimsical.

This is my new favorite book! I cried when I finished. I will not ruin it for you, but my tears were for a multitude of reasons. Without divulging too much I simply didn’t want it to end and that says a lot! I have given this incredibly sweet read to both men and women, of differing backgrounds as well as ages and everyone loves it. I also said in my last review that music was not necessarily going to be an aspect of these articles. Well, and I acknowledge this is huge generality, but Deadhead stoners are going dig this read. I just can’t see how you couldn’t. It is magical, creative and a little bit out there. Like a good Dead show or track, Remarkably Bright Creatures made me forget the world around me, which right now is certainly a necessity.

Nicole lives in Los Angeles and is currently working on her first memoir. You can find her at facebook.com/nicole.feingold and on Instagram @nicole_lise