New Music: 2018 already feels like a let down and I will give you two reasons: Migos And Justin Timberlake. Two major releases that should have single handedly made January bearable but didn’t at all. Justin’s Chris Stapleton jones was just too calculated, the entire Americana man of the woods look what happened when I vibed with Chris Stapleton was way too tick tock (also, a bad pop move). It felt like a major thought process that blew up in his face. I am not down with the vitriolic insults from the mainstream press, it feels like the age of Trump has beaten to death the age of singular opinion and that there is a common mindset of agreed upon discrimination. As for Migos, Culture II is album as mix tape and it goes on and on and on. Their ego tripped them up, the best moments are fine, the rest the worst curse on earth: a bore.
Old Music: I have just reached an album I’ve been waiting to review since I started my Frank Sinatra retrospective: In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning, in 1987 I didn’t know it, but I was interviewing Chris Difford and he recommended it (he recommended Shostakovich as well -now that’s a good interview) and I immediately bought it back in the days when ten bucks meant something, and it was worth missing lunch for a couple of days. Otherwise, a dog from McCartney and a bluesy one from The Impressions is in the works.
Concerts: Can’t say I was too crazy about Stew And the Negro Problem last night, though I did get heckled by Spike Lee for the second time n my life. The first time was in line for refreshments at a Prince gig at Jones Beach.
The Stock Market: I get the feeling that what the pros do is buy and sell in micro seconds going up and down which is why the small guys can’t quite handle it.
The Super Bowl: Say what you will, and I hate pretty boy Brady as much as the next New Yorker, his performance on Sunday was one for the ages. He deserved to win and he absolutely deserves to return to the Pats.
POTUS: Trump is to Kennedy what Stormy Daniels is to Marilyn Monroe.
Military Parade: Let’s hope somebody puts this tin pot fascist thang down like a bat with rabies. Why does all this guys idea sound fascist? And when did disagreeing with the President become treason?
Quincy Jones: Proof that when you get to a certain age you are free to say anything you like.
More Potus: Every President since Washington owe a debt of gratitude to Trump, he makes the worst of them look great.
playlist after playlist pushing the same handful on songs
sweet soul music
“All Night Parking” is so great it causes us to overestimate the album
This ain’t rap music, this straight literature
“an anthem for all the ones that have experienced getting manipulated,”
An abysmal top ten as we reach for the end of the year
a smooth and cagey sound
Azealia Banks has two nights at The Novo
lost all working class crdentials