Razzle Dazzle Music & Movies

R▲ZZ D▲ZZ WEEKLY

R▲ZZ D▲ZZ WEEKLY is a blog series focusing on music and movies, accompanied by a playlist featuring songs I’ve been keeping in heavy rotation

  • David Lynch and Cinematic Perversion

    David Lynch and Cinematic Perversion

    I had every intention of writing about Nosferatu this week. It’s a brilliant film, exquisitely crafted and executed on all levels. It’s horror in the classical sense, bearing an unparalleled richness I’ve not experienced within the confines of the genre in quite some time. Earlier this week I bookmarked an article by Douglas Greenwood titled “It’s Pervert Winter,” referencing the film, but reading it now, in the wake of yesterday’s sad news, it’s difficult for me not to do so through the lens of David Lynch’s passing. The piece focuses on media described as “[doubling] down on mystery, and harbouring a willingness to stay weird and misunderstood.” That is, if anything, one definition of “Lynchian.”

    This got me thinking more about the word “perversion” within the context of media and how that concept truly reveals itself through David Lynch’s work; perversion: “the alteration of something from its original course, meaning, or state to a distortion or corruption of what was first intended.” Certainly a caustic film like Blue Velvet resides in the realm of the perverse, but the idea of altering meaning through the corruption of concepts is what’s now guiding this connection to Lynch for me.

    Much of David Lynch’s work reveals itself with an eye for a classic Hollywood aesthetic, overlaying a more sinister human experience beneath the topsoil of nostalgic charms. That feels true to me when considering 2001’s Mulholland Drive, but isn’t far off from why something like Twin Peaks continues to appeal to me. There’s an aw-shucks-ness to the familiarity that bleeds through the show (or at least its original run), with Lynch leaning into the familiarity of the setting while simultaneously revealing dark forces at play beneath it. Even when all is well in Twin Peaks, something is always just… off. Also, it’s hammy, but not hammed up for reaction. There’s an ever-present distortion of reality, amplifying tropes such that they become both a mockery of reality and a perfect reflection of it at the same time.

    For ages I’ve held an emotional tie to a book called The Trouser Press Guide to ’90s Rock. It was one of the things that helped introduce me to a lot of great music in my youth, but I’ve never spent much time with it beyond skimming names here and there to find new (old) music. The whole thing is available online, but I’ve got the Bible-sized book at my desk here, and one of my resolutions this year was to start listening and reading my way through it (I’m updating Spotify and YouTube playlists with music that I’m enjoying along the way, in case anyone’s curious in following along with me). I’ve got a long way to go before I get out of the “A”s, but an early rabbit hole I found myself in came from learning about the music of one-time Bad Seeds bassist Barry Adamson. The name wasn’t familiar to me but when I began digging into his work, but his sound certainly was. Adamson scored several pieces for use in Lynch’s 1997 film Lost Highway, but what’s more is that you can hear a clear through-line between his work and that of Lynch’s beyond that. The Trouser Press listing for Adamson likens his music to “crime jazz,” which conjures the perfect feeling for what the sounds beneath Lynch’s neo-noirs tend to inspire. They are the perfect couple.

    This morning I was listening through Adamson’s 1996 album, Oedipus Schmoedipus, which bounces between the bubbly and terrifying. I recommend anyone interested to start out with “The Vibes Ain’t Nothing But The Vibes” or “Something Wicked This Way Comes,” which each lend the day a fitting musical bedrock to consider Lynch’s influence. In a 2016 Q&A with Dave Simpson of The Guardian, Adamson referenced a phone call he received from Lynch, which I implore you to read as if abruptly blurted out by the man himself, in all his nasally glory. “Barry. This is David Lynch. I’ve been listening to your music for 10 hours straight. I would like you to work on my new movie. I will send you a scene. Show it to no one.” Other than being a perfect example of Lynch’s offbeat manner of communicating, it also portrays an important aspect of why his work remains so endearing: its earnestness. Adamson’s music, which also sways into the realm of “sinewy dance” and “smoky bossa nova,” holds space for the subversive, but doesn’t stray into parody. This is tonally consistent with Lynch’s films, which never portray their exaggerated characters are as either caricature or subversion. They’re neither. They’re a perversion.

    While the Lost Highway soundtrack was probably the first avenue into Lynch’s work for me in my youth (thanks the radio play Nine Inch Nails’ “The Perfect Drug” and Smashing Pumpkins’ “Eye” received) the first film I saw of his was probably Mulholland Drive. In college at the time, I surely picked it up from somewhere like a Wal-Mart, which is telling of the film’s break-out success, despite its obtuse narrative and elusive storytelling. In the spirit of self-education I later watched Eraserhead and The Elephant Man, though both also failed to connect with me. They were all weird, sure, but I’m not sure I had a sense for what I was supposed to like about them beyond that measure. Many years later when I returned to Mulholland Drive, well into my 30s, I recall only just starting to feel like I could begin to appreciate it. In a 2019 Letterboxd entry I wrestled with how “aspirational” my motivation was for watching the film, which I suppose is something I still reckon with now.

    “It’s weird we associate the entertainment
    That people gravitate toward with how big their brain is
    Where’s the line between seeking understanding
    And performing an exercise in personal branding?”
    -NAHreally “Smarter Than I Am”

    Without realizing it, even just being generally informed about the work of David Lynch has become something of a short-hand for a bucket of traits that I tend to appreciate about people. Like, if you’ve seen any of his movies or can reference Twin Peaks, that’s a fundamental tell about what kind of person you must be (cool, hip, interesting, sexy, intelligent, fill in the blank?). But so much of that is probably based in my own “aspirational” appreciation of his work, rooted in a personal sense of imposter syndrome. Imposter syndrome is an outward projection of an inward feeling, right? Like, if someone is familiar with David Lynch’s work, surely that’s telling of the type of person they are, through to their core. So what do I have to do to make sure they think the same thing about me, so I’m not found out to be the unsophisticated fake I truly am? If I watch close enough, or read enough about the work, surely I’ll understand it, and if I understand it, surely that will be telling of the type of person who I want others to think I am. No doubt, there was a bit of that going on subconsciously when I picked up that first copy of Mulholland Drive. The funny thing is, this over-intellectualization is counterintuitive and largely antithetical to the intention behind the works. The older you get, the more you realize, I suppose.

    Maybe its a result of time helping soften the rigid corners of self-judgement, but I feel like I’m becoming more comfortable with finding satisfaction in the things I can’t pretend to understand. About a year and a half ago I watched Lost Highway for the first time in a long time. I watched it with someone I was seeing, and surely I thought she was cooler for being interested in the movie. Likewise, I hoped she thought the same of me. But what was different about that viewing was how much I just enjoyed the experience of watching it, regardless of the surrounding context or any interpretation of what watching it might say about me. Its darkness wasn’t something to be understood on an intellectual level, but merely felt, and to this day a shadow of appreciation encapsulates my memory of that experience. More and more, a fear of not having all the answers is morphing into a comfortable reconciliation with the unknown. Now thinking about it in these terms, any prospect that ambiguity might continue to supplant a perfectionistic drive for answers brings with it a point of hope. I don’t tend to think of “hope” when reflecting on David Lynch’s work, but maybe that’s worth some reconsideration.

    Last year was the first time I watched Inland Empire. In an obituary published yesterday, J. Hoberman wrote of the film that it “all but refuses to be a movie.” Critical as that sounds, it’s still a charitable in my estimation. The three hour stream of consciousness styled production is challenging all the way through, which felt driven less by purpose than a desire to identify the limits of what might be tolerated by his audience. To use the Andy Warhol quote, “Art is what you can get away with,” and that comes to mind here not only with Inland, but as a sentiment which broadly underscores the brilliance of David Lynch. Ahead of an era where production companies are becoming increasingly invested in creating “content” for a casual viewing audience, Lynch worked to steer them away from such a development. But when he did so, he refused to beat anyone over the head with his intention, welcoming misinterpretation of his work from his audience and critics alike. In an Instagram post, longtime collaborator Kyle MacLachlan wrote that Lynch “was not interested in answers because he understood that questions are the drive that make us who we are.” David Lynch enriched the medium by rendering our vocabulary to explain his work obsolete, and to the very end he got away with it.

    Listen to R▲ZZ D▲ZZ WEEKLY on Spotify or YouTube

    1. Noveliss & Hir-O “Hyper Combo”
    2. NAHreally & The Expert “Smarter Than I Am”
    3. Gifo “Bobby”
      • “Bobby” is from Gifo’s May 2024 Shine EP.
    4. Phiik & Lungs feat. Cise Greeny “PSG Grip”
    5. Onra “Until The End”
      • “Until The End” is from Onra‘s May 2024 release titled Nosthaisia.
    6. Doechii “Drop Out”
      • “Drop Out” is from Doechii’s November 2020 Oh the Places You’ll Go EP.
    7. SZA feat. Kendrick Lamar “30 for 30”
      • “30 for 30” is from the December 2024 extended release of her 2022 album, SOS, titled SOS Deluxe: Lana.
    8. Mannequin Pussy “I Don’t Know You”
    9. Weep Wave “Rebirth Mantra”
      • “Rebirth Mantra” is from Weep Wave’s April 2024 album titled Speck.
    10. Rome Oliver “My Life”
      • “My Life” is from Rome Oliver’s March 2024 Before the Rain EP.
    11. Jung Youth “Moments” (produced by Billy Van)
    12. blackchai & August Fanon feat. 98PREEM “SPARKING! ZERO”
    13. Legible “WHAT IT DO??!”
      • “WHAT IT DO??!” is from Legible’s October 2024 EP titled Visible Rising 2.
    14. Kendrick Lamar “Heart Pt. 6”
      • “Heart Pt. 6” is from Kendrick Lamar’s November 2024 album, GNX.
    15. Slow 404 “b a t t l e !”
      • “b a t t l e !” is from Slow 404’s August 2024 release titled O S T.
    16. Aphex Twin “Nightmail [London 14.09.2019]”
    17. XMajin “TRACK 5”
      • “TRACK 5” is from XMajin’s January 2025 album titled LOST AND FOUND.
    18. The Weather Station “Window”
      • “Window” is from the Weather Station’s January 2025 album, Humanhood.
    19. Lambrini Girls “Cuntology 101”
    20. Dead Pioneers “Bad Indian”
  • Remember You Are One

    Remember You Are One

    David Cronenberg’s eXistenZ stands as my earliest memory of a distinct brand of cinema: body horror. I don’t even know if it’s right to classify eXistenZ as “body horror,” as much as just “Cronenbergian.” Like, certainly, injecting a weird little gaming device into an oozing, infected physical port installed and located on a human’s body isn’t not-not body horror, but to me that’s just Cronenberg being Cronenberg. If I’m looking at something like Wikipedia’s definition of the phrase though, which refers to it as “a subgenre of horror fiction that intentionally showcases grotesque or psychologically disturbing violations of the human body or of another creature,” the description certainly aligns with parts of eXistenZ; parts of eXistenZ and much of The Substance.

    The Substance is a body horror film through and through, but not merely in its use of absurd, maximalist on-screen mutation and disfiguration, but also in the “grotesque” manner which it characterizes the ideas of a “better” self, beauty, and self-actualization. In those ways, however, it might be as much an existential horror film as it is a body horror one.

    The performances throughout are brilliant, but what continues to rattle my saber after watching it isn’t the disturbing nature of any of the on-screen images, as much as the messaging behind them. The film focuses on toxic beauty standards and aging, but also the proliferation of a certain brand of unquenchable insufficiency. In the case of the film, this feeling characterizes the state of Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore), who – through aging out of her peak years as a fitness model – is introduced to a means by which she might course correct; a means to a “better self” – The Substance.

    Elisabeth is provided a vial containing a liquid of mysterious origin which is claimed to cure her of her predicament. In reality, it doesn’t revitalize her skin, cure wrinkles, or erase age spots, however. Instead it uses her body to generate a new self, a younger self, her ideal self – Sue (Margaret Qualley). I suppose if you haven’t seen this and are following along here, whatever I’m writing probably doesn’t quite add up… more specifically, The Substance separates Elisabeth into two people, distinct consciousnesses who are to share the act of actually being conscious. They are to each exist, seven days on, seven days off. When Elisabeth is awake, she is in charge. When Sue is awake, she is in charge. They should not be awake at the same time, however, and must never forget they are not two separate people, but are one. Always remember, you are one.

    In time, Sue’s dominant abuse of her time creeps the two halves out of compliance with The Substance’s guidelines, resulting in rising levels of conflict between the two halves: One which feels the other is holding them back and one which feels they aren’t being respected as part of the whole. I was listening to a podcast recently which referenced this split as an analogy for addiction, particularly mentioning a scene in which Elisabeth binges on food, which then impacts Sue’s body the next day in a rather body horror-y way. This visually depicts the consequences of one state of mind influencing another, but I don’t think the scene reflects addiction, necessarily, as much as themes of self-rejection. Sabotage is often borne of guilt and shame and jealousy, and when caught in a trap of such feelings, sometimes the best way to escape is to do damage to the source. Feeling better isn’t the point so much as feeling different is. Any consequences are for future me to deal with.

    This got me thinking more about how we’re nurtured to manufacture such a level of crisis in our own lives, a perpetual cycle of insufficiency. Think about how many people approach New Year’s traditions, for example, segmenting themselves off by way of calendar turnover; shunning the old in favor of the new. Come January 1, our Sues are permitted control, weaponizing resentment against the old self for all such sins which stand misaligned with this new vision for a “better” self. I know in my past this has shown up as a new gym regiment or diet – all actions, intentions, and motivations installed to rid oneself of one’s lesser self, in some way. A byproduct of the split between the old and the new is typically guilt, anger, and shame though, if the actions of these two selves fail to work harmoniously in support of this new way of living. It’s funny that the same desperation which inspires the moonshot attempt at turning over a new page is rarely implemented with regard to nurturing a sense of self-compassion, grace, and understanding. What a difference we might see if such traits were valued more highly than a firm ass or bulging biceps?

    In Elisabeth and Sue’s case, this escalates into a wild scene of self-violence, culminating in a deformed and grotesque final state being unveiled to an audience of disgusted onlookers. This, to me, was (director/writer/producer) Coralie Fargeat bringing about Frankenstein in the most Cronenbergian of ways, begging a question of whether the hyper-gore witnessed on screen was any more or less disturbing than the emotional chaos which fueled it. What bothers me isn’t on the screen but within myself. When Sue is revealed, she is presented in a comically hyper-sexualized manner, representing a reprehensible level of empty vanity, but it’s not like I was thinking to myself “No, please stop. Don’t show any more of this garbage!” A part of me remains hooked by the surface level appeal of it all. While I can intellectually demonize Sue, on some level I’ve also bought into Sue’s value and the rejection of Elisabeth. A part of me says she is better while another part is disgusted by the admission. The same sort of conflict appears in my own life, as I grapple with my own aging. Some days I reject what I see in the mirror while others I don’t. If my memory is correct, eXistenZ focused on the expansion of the self into the digital space, a separation between the life and the lifeform. The Substance, however, asks what to do when both halves of the self are fundamentally incompatible, and what’s to make of the paradox of living through such a scenario. That’s the true horror of it all.

    The past couple weeks I’ve been returning to bits and pieces of the new compilation Aphex Twin released called Music From the Merch Desk (2016-2023). Largely as Aphex Twin, though also from a smattering of aliases ranging from AFX to Polygon Window, Richard D. James has become of my favorite artists, and certainly one of my most listened to, so a new bucket of music like this is a welcomed gift. Aside from bouncing around within this new 38-track collection, however, I found myself inspired me to trace when and where I was first introduced to his music. It has to have been one of the Chris Cunningham-directed music videos, be it for “Come to Daddy” or “Windowlicker.” It’s weird to think about a teenage me latching onto these videos, not merely for their subversive visuals but for their otherworldly sounds. Weirder yet, how that person became this person.

    A while back I remember seeing a video from writer Jason Pargin spelling out a reason fans (and creators) of horror are drawn to it, particularly the most extreme of its sub-genres. The concept of escapism in this arena, he says, serves as a means of wish fulfillment. He doesn’t mean that people who watch or create horror want to commit crimes or see horrific images in real life, but that we wish the nature of terror wasn’t as banal as it is, fueled by people who look and act so normal that they can get away with it for decades. We want our horror to be the sort of monsters and demons, not of what it is in reality. The Substance is as heavy as it is for me because of how the nature of horror is expressed through self-rejection; it’s too close to reality to feel like fantasy. Aphex Twin’s music, on the other hand, doesn’t take on a feeling of horror (though those two videos mentioned fit the bill), but it does serve as escapism. There’s nothing natural about it and its artificiality is what might be what finds me regularly returning to it. Some days the last thing I want is more reality.

    Listen to R▲ZZ D▲ZZ WEEKLY on Spotify or YouTube

    1. Charles Bradley feat. Menahan Street Band “The World (Is Going Up in Flames)”
      • “The World (Is Going Up in Flames)” is from Charles Bradley’s 2011 album, No Time for Dreaming.
    2. Nilüfer Yanya “Like I Say (I runaway)”
    3. Super Duper feat. Sanders Bohlke “Lightning”
      • “Lightning” is from Super Duper’s July 2023 album, The Way Back.
    4. Noveliss & Hir-O “Eye of Thundera”
    5. Joell Ortiz & L’Orange feat. KXNG Crooked “Housing Authority”
      • “Housing Authority” is from Joell Ortiz & L’Orange’s collaborative album Signature, released in August 2023.
    6. Doechii “WAIT”
    7. Future & Metro Boomin feat. The Weeknd “We Still Don’t Trust You”
    8. Madvillain feat. Quasimoto “Shadows of Tomorrow”
      • “Shadows of Tomorrow” is from Madvillain’s March 2004 album, Madvillainy.
    9. Shikimo “Light Wave (Slowed + Reverb)”
      • “Light Wave (Slowed + Reverb)” is from Shikimo’s Slowed + Reverb, Vol. 1 EP, released in January 2024.
    10. Aphex Twin “21TXT1+4 ds8 flngchrods[sketch0.1b] [London 03.06.17]”
  • Just Fucking Try

    Just Fucking Try

    I’ve been on a Nardwuar kick of late and after watching his recent Andre 3000 and Chappell Roan interviews, ended up digging back into a few memories from his past work. In particular, I revisited a 2011 TEDx talk he gave, which found him adding some context to his role as interviewer and TV personality. The part that stood out to me was about an awkward run-in with a Canadian politician and a remark made to him from security at the event, “… And immediately I thought of the Latin term — and I’m not sure if I pronounced this right or not — ‘voluntary non fit injuria’. Which basically means if you go to a punk rock gig where people are slam dancing, you might get hit.” In context, he was talking about the risks inherent to his style of journalism, which he’s come to accept as a fundamental aspect of stepping into such an arena. It got me thinking a little more about all the areas of life I unwittingly overlook the consequences of my own actions, but also some of the little victories that are easy to overlook. If you’re not much for large crowds, even mustering the nerve to go to the punk rock show and stand among a room full of strangers can be a hell of a victory.

    The role Nardwuar maintains isn’t one he developed overnight, nor is it something I’m sure he was immediately comfortable with, himself, but it’s one that absolutely works. Thinking back to all the ways in which he took a beating along the way (for every Snoop Dogg there was a Henry Rollins) and how all those awkward embarrassing moments might have otherwise added up, it’s kind of a wonder he survived the decades it took him to become an overnight success. In many ways though, those challenging moments are critical to the broader acceptance of his creative vision; the failures along the way are what helped Nardwuar as much as anything. 

    Recently in conversation with The Creative Independent’s J. Bennett, Kim Deal (you know, of the Pixies & the Breeders – that Kim Deal) talked about her perception of “failure” as a driving theme on her new album, Nobody Loves You More. “To me,” she said, “failure reads as: At least you fucking tried it, even if you got fucking beat up because you were in the fight to try something. There’s something really sweet and endearing about somebody who got their ass kicked.” Surely there’s a relationship between success and any outgrowth of “personal character” which might result from one’s failures, but that sort of “success” is the sort usually best understood long after the fact. “I can look at all the little failures of my life,” Deal continued, “but that’s not what I think about. I read it as, ‘Oh, you look so cool all beat up.’”

    A couple months ago I was wondering aloud about the process laid out by the band Japandroids with their final album. I haven’t gone back to see if this changed, but at that time they were really just done with it all: The album was recorded, released, and relinquished – set free to signal the band’s conclusion. And once that was done they were done. This got me thinking, “When creating a work, does the creator then owe it to that piece – even if only as a sign of respect – to market it to one’s fullest capabilities? Like, as a creator, in promoting a work you’re honoring that effort and that creation by putting it in front of as big an audience as you can, maybe?” 

    “Without promotion, something terrible happens… Nothing.”
    -P. T. Barnum

    Above any of those other Nardwuar interviews mentioned earlier, I’d recommend watching this video with Doechii. (I also suggest her Tiny Desk and Late Show performances.) I’m late to the Doechii bandwagon, but am I ever into her album Alligator Bites Never Heal now that I’ve heard it. The release showcases a wild range of sounds and styles, but the track that’s been on repeat for me is “NISSAN ALTIMA.” Not only does the Childish Major beat provide a foundation for Doechii’s precision laden flow, but its pace accentuates her rapid-fire delivery revolving around sexually explicit lyrics aimed squarely at leveling out objectification by creating a counterbalance to the historically patriarchal genre’s long history of misogyny. With the release, the MC and singer has proclaimed herself on a quest to become The Best, and it’s tracks like this one that would put her in that sort of conversation, in my opinion. That said, that sort of thing almost feels counterintuitive to her abilities. Like, why even put yourself into a conversation that includes others when on any given day you’re actually one of the few people in contention to be labelled the best at what you do?

    Success isn’t really a binary thing, right? Rarely does it always mean the same thing for the same person all the time in every context, and I think this is particularly true when considering success surrounding a creative pursuit. As Kim Deal continued in that conversation, she talked about the intention of and inspiration behind the cover art for her album, which reveals itself to bear a sense of reconciliation with failure. By her explanation, it represents “a doomed voyage,” picturing the musician cast adrift, accompanied by a flamingo, an amp, her guitar, and a vision; even if she never reaches her desired destination, at least she fucking tried. 

    Listen to R▲ZZ D▲ZZ WEEKLY on Spotify or YouTube

    1. Couplet “Tabby Cat”
      • “Tabby Cat” is from Couplet’s December 2024 EP2 release. (via Stereogum)
    2. Aphex Twin feat. Luke Vibert “Spiral Staircase (AFX Remix) [London 03.06.17]”
    3. Six One Tribe “Martians”
    4. Justice & Tame Impala “Neverender”
      • “Neverender” is from Justice’s Hyperdrama album, released in April 2024.
    5. Joell Ortiz & L’Orange “OG”
      • “OG” is from Joell Ortiz & L’Orange’s collaborative album Signature, released in August 2023.
    6. Griselda “Dr. Bird’s”
      • “Dr. Bird’s” is from the November 2019 album WWCD.
    7. Teller Bank$ feat. Ponderosa Moe “Repeat Freestyle”
      • “Repeat Freestyle” is from Teller Bank$’s December 2024 Loose Leaves release.
    8. Doechii “NISSAN ALTIMA”
    9. Phiik & Lungs “Uber Dents”
    10. Yard Act “We Make Hits”
    11. Fazerdaze “So Easy”
    12. Aphex Twin “afxfm e [Barcelona 16.06.2023]”
    13. Jim Swim feat. Dan Padley “Same Old Same Old”
    14. Michael Kiwanuka “Small Changes”
    15. Slow 404 “Supermassive”
      • “Supermassive” is from the May 2024 SoundFonts EP by Slow 404.
    16. Mannequin Pussy “I Got Heaven”
      • “I Got Heaven” is the lead track from Mannequin Pussy’s March 2024 album, I Got Heaven. (via Bandsplain)
    17. Slut Intent “Peppa Pig”
    18. Marini & The Steps “Kuingin Dekatmu”
    19. Kim Deal “Crystal Breath”
    20. Extravision “Temporary Fountain”
  • The Tyranny of Familiarity

    The Tyranny of Familiarity

    When I was growing up I adored year-end recaps, countdowns, and the like. I held publishers of best of lists in rarified air – these were timeless artifacts, I thought, that would serve as gateways to the past, sometimes to be cherished as much as the subjects themselves, assembled only by those most qualified to create such things. From time to time a foreign list would cross my path bearing dispatches from alternate realities. I transcribed them by hand and tried to commit them to memory. Year-end lists were an event, but so were the recommended discographies I’d find browsing listening guides and omnibus publications at the book store. I soaked in as much of it as I could along the way. All of these outlets provided what I was missing: Information about what might exist, out there, somewhere beyond what I was aware of.

    I couldn’t tell you if it was a matter of resistance or ignorance (both?), but this is the first year I’ve taken to lapping up music criticism in podcast form. In symphony with doing so, I’m finding something of a renewed sense of adventure to exploring year-end and best of lists. And the more I’ve been browsing through this stuff, the more I go to thinking about it – what might be so different about this year? How did things change from when I was young, and when? When did I lose that hunger for exploring the unknown?

    As I inched my way out of my teenage years, the impact of the scribes I once held in such high regard softened, soon to be replaced by online publications and blogs. The democratization of publishing opened the door for all to share ideas with whoever was willing to read to them. Everyone who wanted to now had a say in the arena; myself included. Funny enough, I suspect the moment my impression of best of lists began to change was probably when I first published my own through my school’s newspaper. I started blogging around that time, too, and within a few years was putting out all sorts of lists, hoping to curry favor as much with search engines as any potential reader. I wrote plenty along the way, sometimes seeking an odd brand of nuance in the format by compiling such absurd lists as “The Top 10 Musical Performances on Late Night TV of 2007.” I suppose that as I grew tired of participating in the year-end tradition, so too did I seem to tire of paying much attention to others’ lists as well.

    In attempting to ride along in the passenger seat while others shared their own favorites from the year, I began projecting outward some of the issues that bothered me about my own process. The sausage of best of lists is typically an amalgamation of incomplete components. How many new albums does even the most culturally travelled, broadly exposed music critic listen to with dedicated focus in a given year? How many times must one listen to them before running these pieces of music through an ever-changing litmus test of personal taste to declare their relative superiority or inferiority to one another? How many works can anyone speak about with expert-level insight in any given year? And what’s to be made of the result? What gives them – me – any of us “he right to call something “the best”?! This is the kind of shit that goes on in between my ears sometimes.

    Screenshots from Spotify’s “2024 Wrapped”

    An understandable extension of this is one that’s come through the broad adoption of listening primarily by way of app. With the medium comes access to data, and from data certain narratives can be drawn. A few years back Spotify started its year-end Wrapped recaps, highlighting individual listening patterns by way of data funnel. “While it’s not a competition,” one screen on this year’s installment reads, “There is a leaderboard.” This sort of thing emphasizes a part of the streaming economy that many rightly take offense to: honoring metrics (metrics, I’ll add, which are entirely opaque) as a prime indicator of merit. The more dazzling the statistic, the greater its implication. While the point might be to highlight listening behavior, in practice Wrapped has become something of a surrogate best of list for most, emphasizing play count as an indicator of endorsement. The result is something of a fragmented collage, referencing bits and pieces of moments that tend to paint an incomplete picture. Or at least that’s true for me.

    Take, for example, my “top artists” this year. Rancid is fourth on my Wrapped list, which most certainly stems from having them on in the background while working around the house one day, inspired to check out some of their later-stage recordings after hearing a Bandsplain episode about the band. There is a specific period of time where I was a huge Rancid fan. I got to see them on the Warped Tour when I was in high school and they contributed greatly to the soundtrack of my youth. But would I say Rancid was my fourth most “top artist” of 2024? No shade, but absolutely not. And in truth, I don’t even think Rancid is actually even my fourth most played band of the year.

    This past summer I cancelled my premium subscription to Spotify. I was a paying subscriber since sometime in 2013, but hit a wall with some of the company’s rhetoric and decided to try something else. I’m in no position to claim ethical righteousness or anything like that, as I merely jumped rails over to YouTube (but if you’re at all curious about what it’s been like – the user experience of YouTube Music is a complete mess and I cannot stress enough that if ad-free video content wasn’t part of YouTube Premium’s overall package, there’s no way I would still be a subscriber to its music product). Not surprisingly, YouTube Music also has its own year-end-round-up-thing, and not surprisingly it’s equally as silly as Spotify’s. Over on that side of the divide, Type O Negative and Nick Cave were, by YouTube’s calculation, my most played artists of 2024 (or at least since I left Spotify). Those probably make a little more sense, to be honest.

    Play count is one thing, but one aspect these summaries can never capture is the impact of a work. For example, one album completely absent from either wrap-up is the Cure’s Songs of a Lost World, which I’d unquestionably rank among my favorite albums of the year. It isn’t something I can see myself returning to casually, nor is it something I’ve listened to in whole more than a few times through, but when I did it impacted me as much as any other piece of music might have in 2024. It’s an unsettling realization, all of this. I keep plenty of music on repeat throughout the year, but more and more I’m finding that what I tend to return to most often typically fails to be what moves, inspires, or challenges me most.

    YouTube Music 2024 Review
    Screenshots from YouTube Music’s “2024 Recap”

    The other day I saw an enthusiastic post about an album I’d never heard of, listened to it, and was sort of baffled by the internal response which followed. It was a creative and clearly skillful work, but not something that falls remotely in line with what I tend to listen to. My tolerance for remaining attentive to it, however, just wasn’t there. Or at least it wasn’t there in the way I think it used to be. I feel like I used to be more open to work that doesn’t immediately agree with my pre-existing preferences. A big part of my reaction showed up in the form of self-judgement for how pedestrian my sense of exploration has become. Here are others, I thought, existing in a world full of meaning and wonder that I don’t quite understand, while my own year-end listening receipts depict someone plagued by the tyranny of familiarity.

    This week’s playlist update features a mix of songs which were all featured predominantly near the top of my most-played round-ups for the year. You won’t find any Rancid, but – for good or bad – you will hear plenty of representation from genres that have historically been in heavy rotation for me for the better part of my life. There’s nothing wrong with that, at all, but if this recent practice has awakened anything in particular within me, I think it’s a desire to reach further beyond what I’m used to in the coming year. A new goal has presented itself, which is to listen to more music I don’t understand and wouldn’t otherwise listen to if I weren’t making myself do it. I’m going to take a few weeks away from this space to close out 2024, but look forward to seeing how the mission statement continues to expand whenever things get going again.

    Listen to R▲ZZ D▲ZZ WEEKLY on Spotify or YouTube

    1. Simple Minds “Theme For Great Cities”
    2. Fred again.. feat. Baby Keem “leavemealone”
    3. Mason & Princess Superstar “Perfect (Exceeder) (1991 Remix)
    4. Yeat & Lil Wayne “Lyfestylë”
    5. Glass Beams “Mahal”
    6. L’Orange & Namir Blade “Nihilism”
    7. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds “Frogs”
    8. deadmau5 feat. Skylar Grey “My Heart Has Teeth”
    9. Four Tet “Daydream Repeat”
    10. Chase & Status feat. Clementine Douglas “Say The Word”
    11. UNKLE “If We Don’t Make It (DJ Nature Remix)”
    12. Lil Simz “SOS”
    13. Kendrick Lamar “Not Like Us”
    14. Hail Mary Mallon “Dollywood”
    15. Hot Chocolate “Every 1’s a Winner”
  • All They Had to Give

    All They Had to Give

    File this one under: Things that an editor would probably encourage me to workshop a bit more before printing. What would a good blog post be without at least a little navel-gazing though? For the better part of a year I’ve been ruminating on something I wrote about “local” music because it didn’t quite feel right once I put it out there. I think I meant it the way I wrote it, but sometimes the things you mean in the moment don’t turn out to be honest representations of a message you’re trying to communicate. In these kind of situations, the spirit of the words might come across, but the message itself comes out a little sideways. At least that was the case with me when I wrote, “The health and vibrancy of a city or state’s music scene is directly influenced by those it relies upon to champion and support it. To not care for local creative work is to communicate that it’s better off existing elsewhere.”

    One of a couple issues I have with this is: what exactly is the word “care” supposed to mean there?

    I’m not sure I even really had a sense at the time I wrote it. To rely on the spirit of the message, I think what I was hoping to do was signal the value in celebrating local artists, but… actually, there I go again. “Signal the value in celebrating local artists”? This is getting a little dicey. Let me try to get to my point from a different angle.

    I saw a social media post yesterday; a version of which I’ve seen no fewer than dozens of times over the years. You might recognize it. It goes, “Following someone = $0. Liking a post = 1 second. Replying to a post = 10 seconds. Supporting doesn’t have to cost anything.” Yes, there is no financial cost to commenting on someone’s social media post, though I might add a “Yeah, but…” So here it is: “Yeah, but even a small army of individuals dedicated to following, liking, and replying isn’t going to pay someone’s bills.” I’m not dismissing the value that can come from the compounded impact of small public gestures, but in terms of creative work being shared online: if the end of the transaction between someone creating work and someone consuming and enjoying that work is a only ever a follow, like, or comment, that’s creating an imbalance. This is one of the reasons curmudgeon musicians aren’t wrong when they gripe on about how the digital economy has stripped artists of their means to earn an income: Because posts like this, no matter their earnestness, fail to value the cost of creative work. They don’t “care” in the “right” way.

    When I was growing up, my dad helped run a non-profit, working with transitioning homeless youth off the street. I gained plenty of life lessons with all the different worlds I was exposed to through that project, but one stands out now that has nothing to do with the work itself. For whatever reason, I was in the office one night and mail was being opened. I think it was around the holidays and I remember watching as letters were being sliced open, including some with checks from donors. I couldn’t tell you what exactly led up to the moment, but I remember seeing one that was for a modest amount of money. My memory says it was $2, which even back then wasn’t a hell of a lot. Ever the smart-ass, I made a comment like “That’s it?!” I couldn’t tell you who it was, maybe it was my dad or maybe someone else who was working there, but they looked at me and said, “Maybe that’s all they had to give.”

    “Care” doesn’t mean the same thing to different people, nor does it mean the same thing to the same person at all times. There have been times of my life when I’ve paid to see local musicians play live, and bought merch, dinner, parking, and tipped the waitstaff, while there have also been times where all I had in me was a passing like on Instagram. One of the things I want to make space for, as this store idea continues to develop, is a sense of care for local music in a way that genuinely makes a difference. I know I want to add actual value to local artists beyond any token gesture of adding songs to playlists very few people will ever see, let alone hear, and I want it to be something more than a bin in the back of the store with a stack of forgotten albums. But what form that needs to take isn’t quite clear to me yet. I have a few other gripes with the particular piece of writing that inspired this thought, but what I’m grateful for is that it helped me ask questions about what level of support I’m capable of delivering when it comes to something I purport to care about. How can I show up in a meaningful way?

    This week’s playlist is littered with “local” music. “Local” to me, probably doesn’t quite mean quite what it means to you, however. Over the past two years I ran through a self-imposed crash course in the Iowa music scene (and I have the playlists to prove it), and this week’s mix includes recent tracks from a small selection who stood out to me along the way. A wide spectrum of tastes are represented here, ranging from rap and hip-hop with B.Well to Big Teo The Trap Man and NickWit2Ks to Bo Ramsey‘s grizzled twang to Early Girl‘s spicy garage fuzz to the electronic post-punk of Mr. Softheart. For over a quarter of my life though, I lived down in Tennessee, and for this week’s update I figured I’d share some (relatively) recent releases from “local” Nashville artists, as well, including music from Starlito, Gee Slab, Super Duper, and JOTA ESE. (For anyone looking to explore those further I, once again, have some playlists to help you on your way.) The mix also includes a swell of psych in the form of “The Glory I” by Moline’s Condor and Jaybird, taken from the band’s 2020 album The Glory. If the latter toots your horn and you’d like to get your hands on a copy of The Glory for yourself, I have a few copies of it up over on Discogs.

    Listen to R▲ZZ D▲ZZ WEEKLY on Spotify or YouTube

    1. Gee Slab feat. AndreWolfe & Namir Blade “TALK TO ME NICE”
    2. Denzel Curry feat. TiaCorine & A$AP Ferg “HOT ONE”
    3. Starlito feat. Tha Landlord, Don Trip & Propain “Ultimate Team/Road to Glory”
    4. B.Well “Darling”
    5. Underworld “Techno Shinansen”
    6. Super Duper feat. Daniella Mason “Silver Lining”
    7. Salt Fox “STARS”
    8. Big Teo The Trap Man & NickWit2Ks “Sacrifices”
    9. Bo Ramsey “Down To Bastrop”
    10. Mr. Softheart “It Happened Like This”
    11. Early Girl “STR8”
    12. Condor & Jaybird “The Glory I”
    13. RIFF & The HEIST “Lost Souls”
    14. JOTA ESE “Your Love Makes Me A Wiener”
    15. Flying Lotus “Ingo Swann”
  • I Found You

    I Found You

    I’d have to place the moment somewhere around 14 months ago — it was a casual social media or podcast reference recommending Fred again..’s Tiny Desk Concert. I knew of Fred. I knew of Tiny Desk’s general vibe. But what came of the pairing was something I hadn’t anticipated. The entirety of the near-half hour set is impeccable in its gentle brilliance and delivery, and I can’t recommend it enough, but The Moment for me came 28 seconds in.

    The first song of the Tiny Desk set is one called “Kyle (i found you),” which is complemented by a visual accompaniment on a screen in the background, behind Fred, syncing visuals of a poet — a poet named Kyle — sampled and mixed to accentuate a rumbling of tender piano. It’s beautiful. It absolutely is. But that’s not the “holy shit” thing about it for me. I’m revisiting it again now, as I write this, and again I’m overwhelmed by it. I used to know Kyle. Our paths crossed for a while when I lived up in Minneapolis. I was in bad shape at that stage of life though. I made a lot of mistakes in those years and burned many bridges on my way out when I left town, but in the few exchanges I had with Kyle in the years that followed he never seemed to hold anything against me. I always appreciated that. And when I saw that moment on the Tiny Desk video, a strong feeling of pride came rushing to and through me. I’d lost track of his work somewhere over the past few years, but man, was this ever one hell of a way to be reminded of someone from your past.

    In the most recent update to his Red Hand Files series, Nick Cave recalled recent experiences on the road with his band, writing, “The world had grown thoroughly disenchanted, and its feverish obsession with politics and its leaders had thrown up so many palisades that had prevented us from experiencing the presence of anything remotely like the spirit, the sacred, or the transcendent – that holy place where joy resides. I felt proud to have been touring with The Bad Seeds and offering, in the form of a rock ‘n ’roll show, an antidote to this despair, one that transported people to a place beyond the dreadful drama of the political moment.” For me, Fred again..’s music is an antidote to despair, and to see him re-contextualize a familiar voice in a way that delivers a worthy message to a whole new audience awakened within me a feeling of revived spirit.

    About two months ago Fred again.. played the Target Center in Minneapolis. The Target Center, for those who don’t know, is the big arena that overlooks and dwarfs First Avenue. First Avenue, for those who don’t know, is a special place. And for that show, in the big sports arena, across from the city’s spiritual center, Fred gave the stage to Kyle. As a fan, I can’t express how proud of him. I wasn’t there, but even watching a clip of it on YouTube inspires within me a much needed break from the collective despair Cave mentioned.

    “And they never name the villain / Like a single burning bush is a sign, but not a million?”
    -Guante & Big Cats “Whatever You Do, Don​’​t Put the Words ‘Climate Crisis’ in the Title”

    Kyle performs and makes music under the name of Guante. He and his longtime collaborator Big Cats released a new album titled All Dressed Up, No Funeral this past summer, but they’re only just now celebrating it with a proper release show. Theirs was the last show I saw in Minneapolis before I left the city, and I wish I could be there as they once again take the stage together. The new album is solid, led by a strong opener, “Whatever You Do, Don​’​t Put the Words ‘Climate Crisis’ in the Title,” but for more context I also added my favorite track of theirs to this week’s mix (the YouTube version, at least, as it’s not on Spotify). I also suggest you check out his website, as you might appreciate some of his other work (hell, you might have already come across it, and didn’t even know it!).

    As best I can recall, the first time I saw Guante perform was at a pro-union street festival in the summer of 2009 called One Day in July. While I moved on to another event after his set that day, in doing so I missed out on seeing another of Minneapolis’ finest perform as Brother Ali headlined the event. I started feeling an itch of Twin Cities nostalgia last week after spending some time with a Nardwuar interview with Ali, but I’ve since dug myself deeper into that feeling by immersing myself in some of his most recent work. Beyond his collaboration with producer unJUST, which was featured on last week’s update, this week’s mix bears a track from Ali’s forthcoming full-length release, set to drop in February. Included here is my favorite from a handful of tracks released as a primer for what’s to come, titled “Head Heart Hands.” Additionally, another track of his is included, titled “Uncle Sam Goddamn” from his 2007 album, The Undisputed Truth. While Ali has, himself, moved on — having relocated to Turkey nearly a decade ago — he kept the Twin Cities connection going by linking up with longtime Atmosphere producer Ant for the upcoming project. For those interested in hearing more from the latter, Ant just released an album of his own in the form of Collection of Sounds: Volume 1, which dropped in September via Rhymesayers.

    “Welcome to the United Snakes / Land of the thief, home of the slave / Grand imperial guard where the dollar is sacred and power is God”
    -Brother Ali “Uncle Sam Goddamn”

    A recurring theme in my life while growing up was that of owning a lot of music, but rarely listening to much of it. What I mean is, I’d buy an album to listen to a track or two, while saving my full-album binges for artists I cherished. This week I revisited one such album, which I certainly owned in the past, though had failed to ever fully listen to — that being Orbital‘s In Sides (available on Amazon).

    Aphex Twin recently released a pair of remixes to his mind-bending single, “Blackbox Life Recorder 21f” (I can’t recommend the music video for this song enough, in case you haven’t seen it), but they both drifted by me without consequence. What they did do was inspire an appetite for some ’90s electronic music; cue In Sides. It’s not so much that I have a memory of buying the album, but rather that it just appeared in my life. Its cover is sticky in the way hazy dreams are sometimes hard to shake — I vividly recall the feeling and general makeup of it, though its exact details evade me. I most definitely picked up In Sides somewhere around the time the English duo found success with “The Saint” (it’s kind of wild to think about how espionage-chic was a thing for a minute; like, the Propellerheads did well by leveraging a retro aesthetic and James Bond vibes; crazy, huh?), but that’s largely where I stopped with my exploration of it.

    In now listening to In Sides, it creates a much more clear picture of the duo’s sound during that period than “The Saint” would otherwise paint. The album’s proper single, “The Box,” is strong (as is its video, which is ripe with ’90s electronica visuals and also somehow eluded me ’til now) and it has a glitchy track, in the form of “Petrol,” which helped satisfy my thirst for ’90s Aphex Twin. “Adnan” is the pick I went with for this week’s mix though, as I appreciate how it progressively builds across its nearly nine minute run-time; orchestrating a layered bed of sound in the process that left me frustrated I hadn’t given it the time of day all those years ago.

    Listen to R▲ZZ D▲ZZ WEEKLY on Spotify or YouTube

    1. Guante “The Hero” (produced by Big Cats)
    2. Brother Ali “Uncle Sam Goddamn”
    3. Kendrick Lamar “reincarnated”
    4. Blockhead “Orgy At The Port Authority”
    5. Naughts “Obnoxious”
    6. Orbital “Adnans”
    7. Ab-Soul “All That”
    8. Big Cats & Guante “Whatever You Do, Don’t Put the Words ‘Climate Crisis’ in the Title”
    9. Brother Ali & Ant “Head Heart Hands”
    10. Amyl and The Sniffers “Chewing Gum”
  • Ground Control

    Ground Control

    “That’s the thing about him, he really can perform at a high level. So when he did that stuff that he did – and he did do it, I was there, too, when he was on stage and his mic wasn’t connected and there’s lyrics coming out […] it’s not that he’s lazy and it’s not that he can’t perform, it’s really that he wants it to be about the music to where anybody could be DOOM, as long as the music is DOOM.” This comment from an old Nardwuar interview with Brother Ali is something I think of regularly when listening to MF DOOM (which is, itself, something I do regularly), though out of context it might not make much sense. In the interview, Ali talks about his interactions with the MC, granting him a generous amount artistic grace regarding his long-held tradition of pulling stunts like using a stand-in on stage. I could only ever gawk at that sort of thing at one point in time, but the older I get, the harder it is for me to draw any conclusive boundaries around what it means to be an “authentic” artist. Even if as little artifice as possible ends up in the final product of an artistic work, how much of any creation is only ever a performance of an idea? And can any performance then be authentic? And who am I to judge any of this anyway?

    This week Rhymesayers dropped an updated version of MF DOOM’s album MM..FOOD, commemorating the 20th anniversary of its release. Listening to it has me thinking about and reflecting on a lot of things, including that Ali interview, what it means to be a “performer,” and how perceived “authenticity” influences my appreciation for a work. The other day I was listening to something that mentioned Dwight Yoakam’s new album, which apparently features a Post Malone collaboration. I know next to nothing about Post Malone, but I still don’t like him. I’m willing to be swayed from that position, but the point of bringing him up here is to share how much I’ve been turned off of him by my own interpretation of his transition from rapper to country star. To me, an ill-informed outsider, he seems to have capitalized on cultural trends both coming and going. But, to challenge myself, even if he is cosplaying every step along the way, what distinguishes the product of his creativity as any less “authentic” than anyone else doing nearly the same damn thing?

    Adult Swim was my gateway to DOOM’s music and DANGER DOOM was the starting point for me becoming a fan of the MC. As much as that album still stands on its own legs musically, it was absolutely benefited by DOOM’s persona when it was released. And for as much as I’d like to say I’m a fan of the broader work of Daniel Dumile, the man behind the mask, I’m really not. I’m fine with KMD, but their music was never really for me. Instead, I have to be real that I’m probably more a fan of the persona than I ever was the person. I’m a fan of the concept. I’m a fan of the execution. Dumile wasn’t dull to this and was vocal that DOOM’s fanbase didn’t care about him so much as they cared about the mask he wore. That said, when he passed a few years ago I was really shook. It felt like something more than a man had died.

    “Rap snitches, tellin’ all their business / Sit in the court and be their own star witness / ‘Do you see the perpetrator?’ Yeah, I’m right here / Fuck around, get the whole label sent up for years”
    -MF DOOM “Rapp Snitch Knishes”

    While FOOD isn’t my favorite DOOM release, its Mr. Fantastik collab titled “Rapp Snitch Knishes” remains one of my most played DOOM tracks. The song lyrically roasts cred-thirsty rappers for flaunting crimes in their songs (to their own detriment, no less), but musically it picks up on an unshakable earworm of a sample that speaks to how sharp DOOM was as a producer. It wasn’t until this past week that I looked into where its guitar sample came from, which turns out to be lifted from a musician named David Matthews. More specifically it came from Matthews’ disco-infused cover of David Bowie’s “Space Oddity,” released on an intergalactic concept album called Dune, which also featured an equally bizarre interpretation of the Star Wars theme. Weird as all that might seem, the context surrounding such an obscure track feels right at home with why I’ve come to love DOOM.

    While my only experience working at a record store to this point is brief, it still afforded me ample opportunity to make mistakes. I have this one memory of talking with this cute girl about hip-hop and recommending an album to her. I’m not sure what we were talking about specifically, but it must’ve been boom bap or some backpack rapper stuff, because I suggested she pick up a Homeboy Sandman album. Surely there was a part of me that wanted to impress her, but it didn’t quite go the way I’d planned. I don’t recall which album it was, but she paid for it and took it home with her. Now, I liked a few Homeboy Sandman tracks, but I didn’t love his stuff. Nor did I really even know much of it. I guess I just thought the somewhat-obscure recommendation would garner me bonus points even if it didn’t hit just right. The next time I saw her in the store though, she was like, “Nah, that wasn’t for me,” and went about her business flipping through the racks by herself. That soured my stomach. My failed performance had backfired.

    It’s strange, the memories that stick with us. That’s an interaction I can’t seem to shake. There’s no way to go back in time and be more honest with myself and that girl, but what I can do is be more honest now. This week’s update features music from the upcoming solo release from TV on the Radio’s Tunde Adebimpe, a song from the Cinematic Orchestra’s score to a century-old paradigm changing silent film, and homegrown selections from Iowa’s Husoul and Why Bother? It also includes a Beastie Boys remix from a disc I had up for sale in my online store. (In a stroke of coincidence the CD I had sold several days ago, so technically I’m not here to sell anyone that album. but regardless…) One of the roles I’m inching my way closer toward is that of a salesperson, whether I like it or not. And as that becomes a thing for me, I anticipate it will come with its fair share of performance. Unlike how I played that one interaction with that girl however, I want how I proceed to come from a place of honesty. And honestly, I like all this stuff.

    I shared a little about my goals with this playlist series in last week’s update, and am realizing just how much more work I have to do to get comfortable with where it is I’m heading. About a week ago I listened to the Root Down EP, and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed this particular remix of the song, despite how tired I’ve become of the Beastie Boys over the past several years. I don’t mean that I’ve soured on ’em or anything, just that their music isn’t really where I’m at right now. Well, most of it, but not all of it. Wound throughout their catalog are these odd, funky, jammy instrumentals that have become what I enjoy most of theirs at this stage in my life. This remix sounds largely attuned to that particular vibe, and I thought that if I was going to play the part of salesman this week and share something that I liked from the shop, I’d better be authentic with it. This is a lesson best learned later than never, I suppose.

    Listen to R▲ZZ D▲ZZ WEEKLY on Spotify or YouTube

    1. Tunde Adebimpe “Magnetic”
    2. Why Bother? “Chasing the Skull”
    3. Beastie Boys “Root Down (Free Zone Mix)”
    4. Tyler, the Creator feat. Doechii “Balloon”
    5. Husoul “be there for you.”
    6. MF DOOM feat. Mr. Fantastik “Rapp Snitch Knishes”
    7. Ab-Soul feat. Blxst “The Sky is Limitless”
    8. The Cinematic Orchestra “The Awakening of a Woman (Burnout)”
    9. Conductor Williams feat. Benny the Butcher & Wiz Khalifa “Hold You”
    10. Brother Ali & unJUST “Nom De Plume”
  • Enough of the Unknown

    Enough of the Unknown

    “Once upon a time, a wild god zoomed / All through his memory in which he was entombed”
    -Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds “Wild God”

    In corporate terms, what I’ve started here would be referred to as an “iterative” process, a small business owner seeking to define pathways toward “cross-platform success.” I hate how much this sort of jargon has infected my thinking. The other day at work, something slipped out of my mouth and my supervisor commented on how it’s hard for each of us to shake the verbal tics we picked up while working at start-up companies. It’s true. Call it by any other name, but what I’m doing here is still, at its core, “digital marketing.”

    When defining my goal in public it feels so crass. I want people to buy stuff from me so I can support myself. I want to support myself by way of a path I’ve decided to take, rather than one I’ve landed on out of financial necessity. Furthermore, I want people to listen to read or listen to what I have to say. I want to develop an “audience.” Many foolhardy influencers call themselves “curators” when they are nothing of the sort. They are share-ers: They consume and share so that others can consume and share. And I suppose that’s what my hope is here: To share so that others will consume. Everyone everywhere is vying for attention with all things created and shared online. I want some of that attention, too. The hope is a few of the people whose attention I attract become customers. Maybe patrons. Hell, maybe friends. These are, after all, unprecedented times we’re living through.

    “Been up late a couple nights / I’ve been tryna close my eyes
    But I keep staring at my phone / I can never be alone”
    –Alison Wonderland “Down the Line”

    The connection between a playlist and a retail store might, at present time, only be a theoretical one, but I figure that’s quite alright. In 2022 I started what has become an online store. Calling it a “strategy” might be generous, but the thought was that if I could develop online sales to cover expenses for an offline business, then maybe it would be possible to make that work. If I could do that, then maybe a business selling music and movies in a small midwestern city would have potential. I’ve never owned a business. My projections were largely arbitrary. I didn’t know what steps would be necessary or which order they’d need to be taken in. I thought maybe in five years I’d be able to transition away from an office job and do this thing full-time. From there, maybe I could figure out what’s needed to open a physical space. Surely the build would be slow, I imagined, selling disc media in a digital society. But this year it all escalated faster than I imagined it could. Five years has turned into six months. I plan on taking my next big leap in the spring by trying to do whatever “this” is becoming on a full-time basis.

    In preparation for that I want this digital space to support whatever physical space might present itself. I want anything I write or share here to be true of where I’ve come from and how I arrived. More specific to the music shared below, I want this playlist to reflect music I’m listening to, not merely music I’m selling. But I do want it to reflect that, too. I want to share what I think is good so that whoever is willing to listen will start to follow along with me.

    “I don’t ever sleep, nah / I just go on standby”
    –Spark Master Tape “$TNDBY”

    This first playlist covers a lot of territory. It picks up from around the time I put an end to a music blog I had called villin, and features several acts that I found in the months which followed. Little Simz and Glass Beams are included in that category, and to some degree Fred again.. and Chase & Status are, as well. The latter two are artists I’ve listened to off and on in the past, but this year I leaned back in heavily following TikTok recommendations, regularly swiping myself to sleep. The algorithm makes the world go round.

    On a recent episode of Uproxx’s IndieCast podcast, the new Jamie xx album was referred to catering to a basic base of electronic fans, or something like that. I haven’t put much thought into what a basic electronic music fan might be, but I’m fine with that label. I don’t want to listen to experimental music when I’m driving to work or going to the gym. I want to listen to Chase & Status. I want to listen to Alison Wonderland. I want to listen to Jamie xx and Fred again.. This isn’t to say I’m only seeking bass drops or “basic” sounds. Four Tet is a perennial favorite of mine and this spring’s Three is a release has stuck with me this year. I wouldn’t consider that “basic.” Similarly, and despite her breakout year and widespread success, I wouldn’t consider Charlie xcx‘s “365” remix basic. Whatever though. This one’s a strange listen. It stood out to me and stuck with me not merely of its own merits, but because of how much it reminded me of another space and time. More specifically it reminded me of “Jericho” from the Prodigy’s 1992 Experience release. The label makes no difference: What is basic to some is all the same a challenge to others.

    Two more albums released over the past couple months stood out to me as options that I’d love to stock (on the shelves of this imaginary store I’m building toward). Wild God from Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds and Songs of a Lost World by the Cure are both magical records. Each of them create a feeling of conflict for myself as a share-er as there isn’t a particular track or two that stand out to me as “the one” I prefer to share here. The songs are of an album, the album is not of its songs. The same holds true for Kelly Lee Owens‘ ethereal Dreamstate, though each release is brilliant in drastically different ways.

    Unique on this playlist is “Upon Sober Reflection” from Japandroids. This song has stuck with me the past couple weeks for a different reason. Beyond a couple past tracks (“No Known Drink or Drug,” “Fire’s Highway,” “Young Hearts Spark Fire“) I haven’t kept close tabs on the band, but was still surprised to learn that the Canadian duo put this new collection out as a means of bookending their time together. No tour would follow. No press, really. They just put out Fate & Alcohol and called it a day. The writer who I learned of the release from asked himself a question about their process which led me to listening which led me to writing this. A version of his question is akin to something I’ve thought about for myself and writing I’ve done in the past. He asked what the point was of creating this music then moving on, full stop. I’ve considered that before. When creating a work, does the creator then owe it to that piece – even if only as a sign of respect – to market it to one’s fullest capabilities? Like, as a creator, in promoting a work you’re honoring that effort and that creation by putting it in front of as big an audience as you can, maybe? I don’t know. I guess I don’t think that’s true. Spirit exists, divorced of reception. Spirit also exists as a concept severed from any potential audience. In this case, the band created something in a way that was meaningful to them, or they wouldn’t have gone through with it. It’s no one’s business but theirs to define whether an album of music achieved its goal based on how much of the story around the album is explained. It just is. We just are. Temporarily. All of us.

    “At night I lay awake, wondering why / I’m always the one who’s standing by […] / Fucking had enough of the unknown / And I’m making that known today”
    -Japandroids “Upon Sober Reflection”

    The weeks pass. As they go, in the moment, there is at times a hyper-awareness of that moment. It can be unbearable. Why won’t it pass more quickly. Why must tomorrow remain, seemingly, forever out of grasp.

    “Once this ends,” I think to myself, “then things will be different.” As if the passing of time will bring about ideal circumstances where the days will yield optimal satisfaction, where inspiration will bloom and motivation is in high supply. I can’t wait for x to be over so I can begin to enjoy y.

    But looking back, the adage of the journey and the destination seem to hold true. There is no end point. Tomorrow is just the projection of an ideal, a ghostly carrot dangled in front of the the ego’s eye, coaxing it out of the present moment and into a space where gratitude, understanding, and mindfulness are each disregarded. Today is only about survival; a necessary step to reach the goal of tomorrow.

    Listen to R▲ZZ D▲ZZ WEEKLY on Spotify or YouTube

    1. Little Simz “Gorilla”
    2. Spark Master Tape “$tandby”
    3. Lord Apex feat. Freddie Gibbs “Phoenix”
    4. Cookin Soul “Gotham Nights”
    5. Mogwai “God Gets You Back”
    6. The Cure “I Can Never Say Goodbye”
    7. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds “Wild God”
    8. Kelly Lee Owens “Love You Got”
    9. Alison Wonderland “Down The Line”
    10. Glass Beams “Kong”
    11. Jamie xx “Still Summer”
    12. Fred again.. feat. Jozzy & Jim Legxacy “ten”
    13. Jamie xx & the Avalanches “All You Children”
    14. Four Tet “Skater”
    15. Japandroids “Upon Sober Reflection”
    16. Chase & Status feat. Hedex & ArrDee “Liquor & Cigarettes”
    17. Charlie xcx feat. Skygirl “365”
    18. Jungle “Dominoes”
    19. Caribou “Come Find Me”
    20. Fred again.. feat. Obongjayar “adore u”