A few thoughts on the new Rancid music video (embedded at the bottom of this post):
– It is 2017, I am 30 years old, and I am writing about a new Rancid music video. I’m not sure if teenage-Jorge would be delighted or terrified by this.
– (also, if Teen-Jorge were to catch a glimpse of 2017-Jorge and 2017-Tim Armstrong, he’d rightfully conclude “the future is made of bad beards”)
– Every Rancid music video was already some variation of “punk dudes standing around playing instruments and looking punk”, but it also usually featured a bit of something to spice up the performance shots: artificial black-and-white film wear & tear, shots of band members walking through gritty neighborhood streets, Lars Frederiksen leaning menacingly on some wall, cameos by Kelly Osbourne and members of Good Charlotte. This one though? This one is straight-up just four dudes standing around playing instruments that aren’t plugged in, shot on a $500 DSLR.
– The fact that they finally gave in and added subtitles for Tim’s unintelligible vocals gave me a hearty lol.
– I haven’t listened to a new Rancid album in many years, so bear with me if this is old news, but this is really… bad. Really, really bad. The number one thing that ever made these guys worth listening to– their gift for huge, cathartic, absurdly catchy and melodic Joe Strummer/stadium-chant “gang-vocal” choruses, which they churned out consistently from 1993 up to 2003-ish — is just completely gone. Nothing. This is a nothing song. It sounds like someone put an old Dropkick Murphys track through an industrial flattener.
– There’s a great moment in Pearl Jam’s Single Video Theory where guitarist Mike McCready expresses some anxiety about one day running dry of that “creative spark”. Given the trajectory of Pearl Jam’s recent career, I’m inclined to believe he was on to something. Maybe that musical alchemy really is a finite thing, and when you play with the same dudes for 20 years you eventually run out of ways to make it new and interesting and good. When I think of my favorite long-running acts that are still making music I consider vital and exciting, I tend to think of solo acts. Maybe bands just shouldn’t play together for that long. After a while you’re not just beating a dead horse, you’re dragging its fetid, bloated carcass uphill, and making everyone around you smell it.
I remember when I turned 15, someone told me “you’re at the exact midpoint of your youth”. That stuck with me, somehow, and I’ve thought about it a few times in the last few years as I approached this birthday. I also thought about the Blur song “End of the Century”, and the whole “never trust someone over 30” punk ethos thing. They both seem kind of silly now. Perspective or cognitive reframing as self-preservation? I’m not sure. Probably a bit from column A and a whole buttload from column B.
Though as I get older, these birthdays seem increasingly like arbitrary yardsticks, I do feel like there’s a certain solemnity in crossing over from one decade to the next. All the usual questions are dredged up– are you where you want to be? (not exactly, but, things are good!), are you ready to settle down? (settle down from WHAT), do you want to start a family? (uhmm). But truthfully, more than any anxiety about aging, what I am somewhat shocked by is just how fast everything seems to be going by. Having lived the last ten years, I can say with some certainty that ten years isn’t actually that long, and applying that line of thinking to whatever time I have left starts to feel a bit disquieting. But it’s fine. Things are fine. I’m feeling good about what’s to come. Things are happening.
The main thing that I’m thankful for after all these years is the sheer quality of people I’ve somehow managed to accumulate as friends, and lucked into having as family. They were the ones who made the ensuing celebrations special, and the ones who carried me through 2016, probably the single hardest year of my life (I’ll detail the reasons at some point). I consider it a point of pride. These are some good folks.
I keep saying this, but I’ve got dozens of half-finished blog posts lining my Drafts folder, and I want to get back to writing more frequently on this site. I intend to do that. In the meantime, if you want to read my terrible dumb words on a weekly basis, I’m still rambling about songs over at Trunkworthy, and I’ve also started collaborating with my friend Evy over at The Bubble, an Argentine news and culture site; together we run The Setlist, a weekly round-up of the best live music in Buenos Aires. We’ve also been given the go-ahead to expand the column in fun and exciting ways, featuring video content and writing profiles on bands and independent labels and such. I also write the occasional film or TV piece for various sites, but those are the two go-to venues to catch my writing every week.
Finally, considering I’ve been kind of obsessive with the whole Spotify playlist thing, I’ve put one together consisting of 30 songs that have had some kind of special significance for me throughout the last 30 years. A kind of audio collage of people, memories and situations. As much as the extent of their personal relevance is not evident to anyone but myself, it’s also a really good list of songs [likely the only time you’ll hear a Björk song segue into an Offspring song and then into Roberta Flack], so I’m sharing it with you all.
I remember sitting on the steps outside the Capri movie theater in Barranquilla Colombia at the age of five, bawling my eyes out because the screening of Batman Returns that I was so excited for had completely sold out. My Grandpa sat along with me. When most adults would’ve tried to talk me out of my despondency, growing increasingly exasperated as they explained how it was silly to cry because there was going to be a screening just a few minutes later, my Grandpa understood the extent of the heartbreak. He knew what it meant, and that it was important for me to feel it at that moment. When we finally made it into the theater (thanks to a friendly theater manager who witnessed the sad scene), the feeling was rapturous. The movie itself was almost secondary to the sheer act of being there, of bearing witness to this superhero with whom I felt a profound personal connection. In my five-year-old mind, it was a bit like going to church.
This marked the start of an intersection of interests that would remain with me throughout the rest of my childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. My interest in Batman bloomed into a full-blown fascination for everything related to comic books, and my interest in superhero movies became a lifelong devotion to the art of film. Even all these years after I stopped reading comic books, comic book movies have thus become an integral part of my movie fandom, taking up about as much of my attention as Award-season prestige juggernauts and brainy arthouse festival fare. It feels weird to compare those categories, but I’ve gotten good at meeting movies on their own terms, and recognizing that I don’t seek the same things from each film genre, same as how I don’t seek the same thing from different music genres; they each a different each, although ultimately I seek an emotional response from anything I watch.
I realized that I don’t really write about this aspect of my movie fandom very often. Mostly that’s because I feel like I have very little to say about the topic that hasn’t been covered to death on all manner of Internet “geek” blogs. But I have had a lot of folks ask me about where I stand on the Marvel vs. DC thing, so I’m going to try to lay it all out as plainly as possible.
Through the years I’ve seen various iterations of the comic book movie; from soulless pablum designed solely for cross-marketing opportunities to genuinely affecting stories featuring characters who happen to be wearing tights. With over a dozen movies in its roster since 2008, and having established by far the most successful cinematic “shared universe” since John Hughes, Marvel Studios is the current reigning champ of the comic book movie. And what they do, they do well; they know the characters inside and out, they know what their audience wants, and they know how to meet the nerds halfway in terms of creative concessions and not surrendering completely to comic-book silliness. The serialized shared-universe approach can come in detriment to an overall sense of catharsis and thematic exploration, but Marvel doesn’t seem to be particularly interested in those things; it wants to replicate the feel of a comic book — which are serialized and steeped in continuity by definition — on the big screen. It can be messy, and it can make the whole endeavor feel ultimately senseless (especially when each movie seems so goddamn concerned with setting up the next one– I see you, Age of Ultron), but it seems to be completely in line with their stated goal and the template they are working with. It may not be to everyone’s liking, and some cinema purists may scoff at what they’re attempting to do. These movies do lack depth, they are often very messy structure-wise, and they do often devolve into iconography porn. But what they do, they do well.
My main source of frustration with Marvel movies has to do with the uniformly boring aesthetic choices in their films. Through bad color grading and prosaic cinematography choices, most of everything looks TV-flat, boxy and dull. The fact that they hire so many TV directors has a lot to do with this, as they direct in service of the writing; it’s a “cinematic universe” that’s sorely lacking in any sort of truly cinematic visual. And this works directly against their attempt to create big-screen versions of comic books; comics are a visual medium, often an incredibly exciting and creative visual medium, and shooting these stories with all the panache and visual excitement of a Party of Five dinner scene feels like an enormous missed opportunity.
On the other hand, there’s DC, everybody’s favorite punching bag. I was always much more of a DC fan than a Marvel fan when I was an avid comic book reader. My early connection to Batman led to Superman which led to other members of the Justice League. I even got way hooked on VHS copies of that Flash TV show from the 90s.
For many years, they completely dominated the comic-book movie genre. Nolan’s Batman series, for all its unevenness, set the benchmark for what a comic book movie could be– visceral, thrilling and “smart”. But their latest forays haven’t exactly endeared them to the public. And I must admit that they are a punching bag for good reason: they have made some truly horrendous choices in their movies so far. I think DC’s main fault has been their inconsistency and general flakiness in sticking to their convictions; the universe, as initially announced, was to be the flipside to Marvel’s genericness. Auteur films made by visionary filmmakers who would apply their own ideas to the franchises they were to helm. And, love him or hate him, Zack Snyder’s two DC entries were exactly that: 100% his vision. And what a vision it is! Contrasted with Marvel’s aversion to any kind of directorial flair, Snyder’s DC entries are an embarrassment of riches from a filmmaking standpoint. His painterly style really captured the highly operatic, gods-and-legends feel of the characters on the screen. Batman V Superman, in particular, is an absolutely gorgeous movie to look at, with a huge amount of powerful moments that resonate on a visual level. But it is also an impenetrable mess; it features unclear character motivations, a wonky dramatic structure that feels haphazardly slapped together, and some truly baffling writing. More than anything else in the “comic book movie” genre, it feels like an enormous missed opportunity. This film could’ve been great.
As everybody knows by now, audience and critical reactions were not kind; most alarmingly, the film fell short of financial expectations, causing DC/Warners to radically re-think their approach. David Ayer’s Suicide Squad was botched in a big bad way during post-production, by hastily scrambling together some re-shoots that amped up the quips and “fun” tone of the film. Most catastrophically, WB hired a trailer house to help edit the final film– again, an agency that makes movie trailers— resulting in one of the most comically unwatchable films in modern memory. I get the feeling that if Warners would’ve given Ayer enough time to flesh out the story and write a better script, and actually stuck to their guns with the tone and ideas they were going for before the tepid reaction to Batman V Superman soured things, this could’ve been a good movie. It could’ve been so good.
And yet. The worst thing about these movies– both Marvel and DC– isn’t subpar visuals or story problems. The worst thing about these movies is that they barely register on an emotional level. None of these movies feel like the gut-punch I want to feel when I see a great film. Some of the shots in Batman V Superman come close to true cinematic beauty, but they ultimately ring hollow. Meanwhile, Fox’s underdog Logan– a movie I had absolutely no interest in watching, about a character I never really cared about, by a studio whose comic book offerings oscillate between complete garbage and sheer mediocrity– is one of the most profoundly affecting pieces of cinema I’ve seen all year. It eschews the “superhero movie” tropes to instead tell a small story about refugees, legacy, and the indignities of old age. It’s not without its problems (again, there’s a serious lack of visual panache) but it is a gorgeous story that resonates profoundly. Particularly near the end. It was the first superhero film in a long, long time that reminded me of the profound power of the medium.
Can DC or Marvel come close to that? I don’t know. I doubt very much that Marvel wants to change anything, considering how wildly successful their formula has proven to be. Snyder’s Justice League might be what breaks their losing streak– the film is already looking like it’ll surpass its predecessor financially, at least– but will a filmmaker like Snyder be able to find a compromise between operatic visuals and effective, engaging storytelling? This has been a constant problem with him. The rest of the DC slate is starting to feel very Marvel-y; the reshuffling of their slate has resulted in the hiring of Matt Reeves– the most boring blockbuster director working today– for the solo Batman movie, and Joss Whedon for a Batgirl film. But this is all starting to feel a bit stale. A bit formulaic. A bit like a weightless nothing. Empty calories.
I love these characters. I want these films to be good. I want the filmmakers to care about making good movies. And I want them to show me something real. Admist the talking raccoons and flying Gods and superpowered aliens, I want to find a little nugget of beauty that reminds me that our own nonsense, fragile, non-superpowered existence means something. I want to feel like that little kid felt when he was finally let into the movie theater after crying outside with his grandpa. Is that too much to ask of a superhero movie? I don’t think it’s too much to ask of a piece of art to move me, to show me something real, regardless of the very obvious artifice it operates with. I think it says something about the kind of mediocrity we’ve been acclimatized to that this is some kind of controversial stance. Logan, in its own imperfect way, is a reminder that it can be done. I hope the right people learn the right lessons from it.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the annual Jorge Farah Awards (colloquially referred to as the Golden Jorges). An ill-informed and insulated look back at the year’s highs and lows. Here are this year’s winners!
TOP TEN FAVORITE MOVIES OF THE YEAR:
2. Nocturnal Animals
3. Hidden Figures
4. Hail, Caesar!
5. The Conjuring 2
6. Karaoke Crazies
7. The Neon Demon
8. The People Garden
9. The Witch
10. The Nice Guys
MOST VISCERAL AND GUTWRENCHING MOVIEWATCHING EXPERIENCE OF THE YEAR (OF A MOVIE THAT CAME OUT JUST BEFORE 2016): The Demons
MOST FRUSTRATING SUPERHERO MOVIE THAT LOOKED AMAZING AND I WANTED VERY BADLY TO LOVE BUT WAS BOTCHED IN A SPECTACULAR FASHION OF THE YEAR:
Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice
MOST SURPRISINGLY DELIGHTFUL LIVE-ACTION ADAPTATION OF A BELOVED ANIMATION CLASSIC OF THE YEAR:
The Jungle Book
TOP TEN FAVORITE ALBUMS OF THE YEAR:
1. Nels Cline – Lovers
2. Mitski – Puberty 2
3. Vijay Iyer and Leo Wadada Smith – A Cosmic Rhythm with Each Stroke
4. Rihanna – ANTI
5. Violenta Josefina – El Ejercito del Aire
6. Bon Iver – 22, A Million
7. Julianna Barwick – Will
8. Lisa Hannigan – At Swim
9. Tegan and Sara – Love You to Death
10. Camp Cope – Camp Cope
BEST LIVE ALBUM OF THE YEAR:
Kate Bush – Before the Dawn
MOST INITIALLY IMPRESSIVE BUT EVENTUALLY UNDERWHELMING ALBUM OF THE YEAR:
Radiohead – A Moon Shaped Pool
(RUNNER-UP: Kanye West – The Life of Pablo)
FAVORITE ALBUM TO BE RELEASED ON NEW YEAR’S EVE IN A CONSCIOUS EFFORT TO FUCK UP MY OFFICIAL TOP TEN LIST BUT IS TOO GOOD NOT TO MENTION OF THE YEAR: Sean Eldon – You Didn’t
MOST OBSESSIVELY LISTENED-TO POP ALBUM FROM BEFORE 2016 THAT SERVED AS A SORT-OF HEALING BALM FOR THIS STUPID GARBAGE YEAR:
Carly Rae Jepsen – Emotion
TOP FIVE FAVORITE SEASONS OF TELEVISION OF THE YEAR:
1. Better Call Saul season 2
2. Veep season 5
3. Lady Dynamite season 1
4. Mr. Robot season 2
5. Bojack Horseman season 3
FAVORITE SEASON OF TELEVISION THAT PURPORTED TO BE A VERY DEEP AND INSIGHTFUL SOCIAL CRITIQUE BUT AMOUNTED TO LITTLE MORE THAN THOSE “YOUNG PEOPLE WITH FACES BURIED IN THER PHONES” MEMES YOUR OBLIVIOUS AUNT SHARES ON FACEBOOK, AND YET STILL MANAGED TO DELIVER ONE EPISODE OF TRANSCENDENTAL BEAUTY (SAN JUNIPERO):
Black Mirror, season 3.
MOST FEVERISHLY REWATCHED SHOW FROM BEFORE 2016 TO REMIND ME OF WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE ALIVE:
MOST THOROUGHLY DEBUNKED BELIEF OF THE YEAR:
That humans are generally good and kind and capable of empathy
FAVORITE MONTH OF THE YEAR:
(RUNNER-UP: December, which was pretty alright)
FAVORITE LIGHTWEIGHT CULTURAL DEBATE OF THE YEAR:
Does Ken Bone’s Vaguely Creepy Reddit Comment History Make Him a Fundamentally Bad Dude?
LEAST FAVORITE LIGHTWEIGHT CULTURAL DEBATE OF THE YEAR:
Does Bob Dylan Deserve the Nobel Prize for Literature? (he does, but it’s weird)
FAVORITE FAILED BLOG RELAUNCH OF THE YEAR: This one!
FAVORITE ELVIS COSTELLO BLOG OF THE YEAR:
The one I write with Kevin Davis. Every week on Trunkworthy!
MOST DEVASTATING CELEBRITY DEATH OF THE YEAR:
Alan Rickman. (Prince and Bowie and the rest were sad, but Rickman wrecked me)
SADDEST CELEBRITY DEATH THAT IS INFURIATINGLY ABSENT FROM MOST YEAR-END ROUNDUPS:
FAVORITE CELEBRITY OF THE YEAR:
Amy Adams, fifth year running
LEAST-FAVORITE INTERNET REACTION TO SOMETHING:
The hoopla surrounding the Ghostbusters reboot
MOST ANNOYING INTERNET PRESENCE OF THE YEAR:
(RUNNER-UP: Milo Yiannopoulos)
MOST STUNNING DISPLAY OF MY OWN INCOMPETENCE OF THE YEAR: The time I tried to make eggs benedict
FAVORITE VIRAL CHALLENGE OF THE YEAR:
The “Keep Your Chin Up and Try to Maintain a Sunny Disposition Even Though the World is Literally Crumbling Into a Hellish Funeral Pyre All Around You” Challenge
(RUNNER-UP: The Mannequin Challenge)
BONUS! A Spotify playlist of my 40 favorite songs of 2016 (that can be found on Spotify, anyway):
Congratulations to all the winners! 2016, you were a year-long garbage fire. I’m happy to see you go. 2017, you don’t have much to live up to. Do your worst.
There’s this book called The Life Changing Method of Tidying Up, written by Japanese professional organizer Marie Kondo. You might have seen lines from it repurposed as cutesy Instagram or Pinterest memes, or, if you’re like me, you might have heard it mentioned on a podcast. It is all about the freedom brought about by decluttering your life, which begins in a practical sense with objects (clothes, books, knicknacks) but can also apply more broadly to any aspect of your life.
What it all boils down to is the idea of joy, and questioning yourself in a truly open and honest way about whether the things you’re holding on to are a net positive in your life. The most famous portion of the book is the one about how, when one is clearing out one’s closet, one is supposed to touch each garment and ask oneself whether this bad holiday sweater or this old Ramones t-shirt a source of joy; if the answer is “no” or even hesitation, it should be thrown out or donated. It’s a bit… cutthroat, but it is also remarkably freeing. It’s good to have a straightforward way of determining what should stay and what should go, and it affords you the opportunity to rebuild and reorganize.
The fact is we don’t often hang on to the objects themselves, but the feelings and memories associated with them. This is more or less the impulse that makes people into the kind of hoarders you watch in trashy reality shows to feel like you’re more in control of your own life. What you’re really doing is piling up skeletons in an increasingly unwieldy closet. Your life becomes a mausoleum.
Earlier this year I applied Marie Kondo’s approach to another hugely important aspect of my life: my digital music library. At the start of the year I experienced a computer crash, which afforded me the opportunity to rebuild my collection and get rid of a lot of stuff that’s doing nothing but gather cobwebs in some dusty forgotten folder on an external hard drive. I went through the whole list, artist-by-artist, album-by-album, asking myself whether each item brought me joy, putting the ones that do into iTunes. After a few hours I found I’d easily deleted a couple thousand songs. It wasn’t even a painstaking process; I found that if you’re really honest with yourself, it’s simple. Even enjoyable.
By the end of the process, I had gotten rid of:
About a dozen EPs of terrible indie bands who contacted me on Twitter asking for reviews.
Approximately 40 live Pearl Jam albums, containing nearly identical versions of the same songs.
Along those lines: one and a half Eddie Vedder solo albums.
Half of Grouper’s The Man Who Died in His Boat. The bad half.
The six or seven Red Hot Chilli Peppers songs I was still holding on to for some goddamn reason.
Everything from the year 2005 that contains a glockenspiel.
Most everything that I downloaded because it was on the Metacritic top albums list of 2008.
Roughly half of The Roots’s discography.
Entire albums by Pennywise and Millencollin that I was only keeping out of nostalgia but are actually REALLY BAD.
That online-only Smashing Pumpkins album. In fact, a whole bunch of random Smashing Pumpkins stuff.
Most of the avant-garde stuff that purports to be real cool and cerebral but actually sounds like a person mumbling semi-rhythmically while someone takes a hacksaw to a washing machine.
So like, those early Animal Collective albums.
EVERYTHING BY THROBBING GRISTLE.
The Neil Young Greatest Hits album I’ve been trying to make myself like for about 5 years now. It’s just not going to happen.
Most of the Odd Future stuff that seemed really great in 2012. (not Frank Ocean though. I like Frank Ocean a lot.)
A bunch of Pavement outtakes that just sound like a bunch of stoned 20 year olds fucking around in a studio.
Five spoken-word albums by Jello Biafra.
A lot of disposable Japanese hardcore except for G.I.S.M’s “Endless Blockades for the Pussyfooter”.
Everything produced by Danger Mouse.
Everything labeled “Extended Mix”.
Everything by U2 that isn’t Achtung Baby or “In a Little While”.
All the Ramones demos that sound almost exactly the same as the final album tracks.
Most of my friends’ demos. Does this mean yours too? I will never tell you. (Probably.)
Most of my own demos, including several half-baked attempts at covering Outkast’s “Hey Ya”.
Feels pretty good.
As for my physical music collection, it’s sitting pretty in my shelf. I’ve got a lot of old albums sitting around that I’m happy to use as a form of decoration. Maybe I should try the Marie Kondo thing on those, but seeing as how I don’t interact with my physical music library nearly as much as I do my digital library, it seems like a non-issue.
Shit. Am I making excuses for my hoarding? It might be time for a purge.
What does it mean to be an expat? Like, I know what it means in the traditional sense of the word– you’re a stranger in a foreign land, taking residence in unfamiliar soil– I get that. I am that. But what happens when you stay past the honeymoon period— when the thrill of the tourist gives way to the soft focus of mundanity and you suddenly find you’ve planted yourself so thoroughly in this new life that you’re effectively a stranger to your roots? It’s an odd feeling, man, not quite belonging to either place, stuck as a forever-in-betweener, so enamored with your new digs that you’re content to feel a bit like an exiled phantasm that keeps gliding back and forth between planes of existence. And when you manage to bump into someone in a similar situation, you immediately gravitate towards that person– “ah! Another willful deportee! Let’s be friends!”. That’s the best explanation I have for why still, after over a decade of living in Argentina, my social circle here consists of about 30% foreigners.
Billy Roche is one of those people. We met each other a couple years ago and immediately hit it off, bonding over our shared love of music and the extremely odd experience of setting up camp in Buenos Aires for such a ridiculously long amount of time (he’s actually been here about 3 years longer than me, which I think technically falls under the legal definition of mental insanity). For the longest time we’ve been talking about getting together and recording a conversation, and we finally got to do so last week. I had to do my best to overcome my hangups about trying to play radio host next to someone who’s actually been one (radio DJ is one of the several hats Billy has worn in his life), but he made it really easy to feel at ease. I guess that’s part of what a radio broadcaster does– maybe one day I’ll get to make other people feel at ease instead of anxious and exasperated.
In this podcast we play some tunes Billy selected, and we discuss subjects such as growing up in a multicultural environment, what makes a great bassline, and why reggae’s recently-acquired reputation as music for drunken frat-bros is kind of missing the point of what was originally meant to be vibrant, subversive, politically-minded protest music.
James Brown- “The Payback” Bob Marley- “Lively Up Yourself” Aretha Franklin- “Rocksteady” Jeff Buckley- “Last Goodbye” Everlast- “Children’s Story” Rage Against the Machine- “Killing in the Name Of”
Someone’s papering all of Buenos Aires with Jim Carrey stickers. It started with this one, on a lamp-post right around the corner of where I live. I was taking an afternoon stroll through the neighborhood when I was confronted with Jim Carrey’s dead-eyed visage. Oh that’s cool!, I thought. How whimsical. Soon enough I started seeing more of these terrifying photos pop up all over the city; on bus stops, mailboxes, street corners. There’s no accompanying text. No explanation. Just Jim Carrey’s toothy grin, and those eyes. Oh God, those eyes.
I’m dusting off the cobwebs of my blogcasting shoes to bring you the inaugural 2016 edition of this bloated, misshapen approximation of a podcast. Yes, it took five months for this to happen. It’s embarrassing. But things are looking up. A new post schedule is coming soon– one that will be sustainable and fun and won’t result in my crashing and burning in a big bad way– and so this is a kind of celebration.
On a completely unrelated note, I should probably also mention that a sort of extension of this blog has been up and running for several months over here, where I tackle a new Elvis Costello song every week with my friend and collaborator Kevin Davis. I’d been meaning to tell you, I just… I just didn’t know how.
The tunes have been selected and arranged for maximum listenability, with no particular criteria beyond “these are some songs I’ve been into lately”. I keep my talking to a minimum, but I do chime in every few songs to remind you that I exist. The announce at the start, middle and end is the great Jake Glazier, the official voice of the internet. Click the embedded player below to be taken on a journey, of sight and sound, of exasperated sighs and impatient groans. Do it.