NEW MUSIC FOR OLDS #33

We’re all still beautiful and we’re never gonna die!

Jun 14, 2023

Hello there, friend. Welcome to New Music For Olds #33.

For those new around here, I usually start things out with some vague joke and a seemingly random photo that references something to come later in the newsletter.

You know, like this one!

I bet you’re curious how that relates to today’s newsletter. Oh, you’re not? Well tough shit, bigot!

On the docket:

A potential show-opener
Aristocratic vampires
Phallic descriptors
Orchestral budget maneuvers in the dark
And, a visit to Age of Mix CDs

Maestro…?

GOOD STUFF

This week’s batch of tunes is an anomaly: the first GOOD STUFF where all three artists are at least 50 years old. Hooray! We did it! Fifty is the new thirty (is the new coping mechanism)! We’re all still beautiful and we’re never gonna die!

Way back in NMFO #1, I clarified that the word “new” doesn’t necessarily mean “young”. Heck, I featured a new Brian Eno song a few months back and my dude is halfway through his eighth decade. But I’d estimate that 2/3 of the artists I’ve written about here are under the age of 35 because, well, those are the folks who make most of the music. ‘Tis what it is.

But this week, I bring you three very good new songs by longtime brand name (or brand name adjacent) artists. What is this, MOJO Magazine? Don’t worry, I’m not going to start waxing rhapsodically about some 1973 Emerson, Lake and Palmer or writing headlines like “PETER FRAMPTON: Now More Than Ever!”.

(But for the record, I do love MOJO Magazine.)

Why not refresh yourself on the Glossary of Terms?

Ben Folds, “But Wait, There’s More”

Listen on Apple Music // Listen on Amazon Music

Album: What Matters Most
Nutshell: Broadway inspired (or inspiring?) pop
Voltage: 5
Thoughts: I’ve maintained a 30 year on again/off again relationship with Ben Folds. I don’t love everything he’s done, but I always marvel at his precision and craftsmanship. He’s also lowkey influential—the writers of Dear Evan Hansen owe Folds a royalty. Listening to What Matters Most, you wonder why he’s never written for Broadway. Apparently, It’s been an ongoing discussion. “But Wait, There’s More” addresses our current social malaise that feels direct but subtle (another tune from the album, “Christine from the Seventh Grade” is more blunt.) But I mostly like it mostly because it sounds like the demo for a big ensemble opening number. Ben Folds, future Tony winner. Bank on it.
Pairing Suggestion: Flipping through Playbill, learning about Bebe Neuwirth’s favorite tapas spots

Why does our most flamboyant artistic discipline give out what look like quarterly sales awards?

Queens of the Stone Age, “Emotion SIckness”

Listen on Apple Music // Listen on Amazon Music

Album: In Times New Roman
Nutshell: Alt Rock
Voltage: 7
Thoughts: The 2002 album Songs for the Deaf is an all-timer, but every QOTSA album since has inspired in me varying degrees of “meh”. I remember digging 2017’s Villains, but now, with the proverbial gun to my head, I’m unable to recall a single melody. So should take my current love of “Emotion Sickness” with a grain of salt? It’s not as if it presents a radical change in the band’s sound. But I don’t know, man… The chorus has been running through my head for weeks and there have got to be, what, seven or eight distinct guitar tracks? And I love how Josh Homme slides in and out of his falsetto, like an aristocratic vampire doing an Elvis impression. So yeah, I think I’m substantially higher than “meh” on this one.
Pairing Suggestion: Swaying to and fro with a cigarette in one hand and a brandy snifter in the other

MAN ON MAN, “Take it From Me”

Listen on Apple Music // Listen on Amazon Music

Album: Provincetown
Nutshell: Alt rock
Voltage: 7
Thoughts: It was not my deliberate intention to feature this rather vivid Gay History lesson during Pride Month, but here we are! MAN ON MAN, is a collaboration between Faith No More keyboardist Roddy Bottum and his partner longtime partner Joey Holman. It’s a simple tune with a cool keyboard hook and a singsongy melody. I love some raunchy gay sex in my rock music. It feels transgressive and mysteriously liberating, given that I have less than zero interest in someone with a “beer can dick in his corduroys”. I dunno, maybe what we’re liberated from is overthinking this shit.
Pairing Suggestion: Cleaning glitter out of your buttcrack

Take it from me, a former Masshole: Provincetown rules

The all-important poll:

And your all-importanter comments:

SOME BULLSHIT

I’ve never seen Ben Folds live, so I was unaware that he frequently hires local orchestras to play with him. I have to assume this is ungodly expensive. Sure, the name Ben Folds is a respected piano rock brand, but just how much “Brick” money does this guy have lying around?

Whatever. Not my concern. I bring this up because I recently discovered that Folds has this long-running game(?) called “Rock This Bitch”, in which he composes and arranges a piece of orchestral music on the spot. There are a few dozen versions on YouTube (search “ben folds rock this b”), and they’re all entertaining and skim-able.

Here’s a good one:

P.S. Sorry, I’m still obsessing over this Ben Folds’ touring outlay. Are you aware this dude has been married five times?? And still he’s shelling out for Grand Rapids-based bassoon players? Someone make the math make sense!

As you may have noticed, I love making playlists. Did you know I include one in each of the off-week newsletters sent to Paid Subscribers? It’s true! Recent playlists have included semi-obscure tunes featured in 80s teen comedies, songs that feel like Spring and a collection of gloriously farty keyboard sounds.

What’s that, you say? You’d like to join the elite ranks of Paid Subcribership? I WILL ALLOW IT.

Anyhoo, I was recently sifting through Tower of Hubris, my blog from the early Aughts. I used to post content at a rate that boggles my Twitter-addled mind. Were we ever so productive??

I stumbled upon a 2003 essay I wrote about mix tapes and I was taken aback by how much I’ve changed…but also how much I’m still that same damn person. We spend a lot of time thinking about our adolescence, but how often do you reflect back on the person you were when you were thirty, when you’d laid the foundation for your adult self, but the cement had yet to harden? Where is that switcheroo movie?

More than anything, it felt a bit sad to acknowledge how much of my self-worth was (is?) based on notions of trivia and curation, two fields rendered mostly irrelevant by the All-Powerful Algorithm. I mean, whatever—the die is cast. But if I could go back in time, I might tell the young-ish version of myself “Buddy, find a more sustainable way to impress people.”

Also, I wince at my 2003 attitudes towards women. It’s not like I was Andrew fucking Tate, but in this essay I see a lot of that “Great Man” delusion, wherein women are empty vessels just waiting to filled with knowledge. That “I can show you the world” nonsense. Being horny is a helluva drug.

I’m going to paste it below, for shits and gigs. I cleaned up a few typos and linked to the songs, but I’ve otherwise resisted the urge to rewrite personal history. Take from it what you will. Or skip it and go about your day! I ain’t yer boss.

MESSAGE OF LOVE: The Subtle Alchemy of Mix Taping (Spring 2003)

So I've been dating a woman for a couple of months1, and I think it may be time for me to take it to the "next level". I want to give her a little gift -- something poignant, but not over-the-top. Something that says "I understand you better than any man has ever understood you -- but not in a creepy way." Unfortunately, my lack of marketable skills has left me with very little in the way of funds. So you all know what that means! Hot chick? Poignant yet non-skeevy keepsake? No money? Say it with me, kids: MIX TAPE!

What the hell does it say about me that I'm 29 years old and still making mix tapes? Sure, they're technically CDs now, but for all intents and purposes, they're still the same 'mix tapes' I've been making for my sweethearts, requited and otherwise, since Grade Seven. My insatiable passion for transferring pop songs onto cassettes and compact discs is a manifestation of the low-budget, junior high egotism that defines my very existence. Because in the end, a mix tape is always much more about the giver than the receiver. It's meant to scream, "Hey, check me out! Look at all of the cool music I own! Aren't you impressed? You'll now want to befriend / have sex with me, right?! Please, tell me I'm valid!" My curse is that I'm fully aware of how ridiculous this mindset is, and yet I cannot turn away from my calling.

If I were to put the same amount of energy toward my professional career as I do burning CDs, I'd be an internationally recognized "playa". In fact, I like to imagine myself the Tiger Woods of Mix Taping -- head and shoulders above the rest of the field, yet striving constantly to find ways to improve my game. Fer chrissake, Maxell could sign me to an endorsement deal! I can almost see it:

Hi, I'm Christian Finnegan. Whether it's for the ex-girlfriend you're trying to get reconcile with or some cutie who lives in the dorm room across the hall, nothing implies "I care" like a quality CD-R. That's why I use the Maxell Pro-XII. With its unique dye-recording layer, the Maxell Pro-XII ensures superior read-back for the ultimate in archival life and performance. And with an unbelievable 80 minute digital audio capacity, that's a lot of performing. Maxell Recordable Compact Discs: get in the mix!

So how exactly does one create a super keen, sure-to-get-your-foot-in-the-romantic-door mix tape? Well, like The Force, it defies simple explanation. Basically, you're attempting to take the listener on an emotional journey -- there needs to a beginning, an end, a subtle theme, a lesson learned. Every component plays a part, from lyrical sentiment to song length to track order. Lordy, the hours I've spent laboring over track order! It usually plays out something like this:

Okay, I'll start things off with something buoyant and austere, like Spoon's "Everything Hits at Once", to which she will involuntarily bob her head by the middle of verse two. From there, it's on to "Feedback Queen" by Lotion. Five listens from now, she'll be dancing around her living room to this song in a manner that is simultaneously awkward and unspeakably beautiful, but for now she's just digging it silently, wondering how it is she's never heard of this band. "Christian is so cool," she'll say to herself, "And, now that I think about it...attractive".

But she has no idea that I'm also extremely deep and capable of despair--at least, not until song #3. Man, by the time she gets to minute five of Cat Power's "Colors and the Kids", she will be sobbing into a throw pillow! "Christian has touched my very soul," she will cry to the heavens, "I must feel his tender kiss upon my face and neck! I absolutely must!"

Whoa, wait a minute. What am I thinking? Am I some kind of moron? "Feedback Queen" directly into "Colors and the Kids"? That's crazy talk! The shift in emotion is waaaay too abrupt. I need to slip in a transitional track--something uptempo, but with a hint of poignant melancholy. Hmmm... I've got it! "Achin to Be", by The Replacements! It's the perfect mix of happy and sad! Plus, when she reads the back of the dazzling, ironic clip art-laden CD case I've designed, she'll think "Oh, The Replacements! I've heard them referenced by people whose opinions I respect and I've always wondered what they sounded like--and now Christian Finnegan is giving me that chance!"

And then, as she scans down to the bottom of the track list…

"Oh my god, Aretha Franklin's “Ain't No Way”? My parents used to sing that when I was a little girl! What a breadth of knowledge! How could he have known? Is it fate? Could this be...love?"

Etcetera and so forth. What's tragic is that when you give a woman a mix tape, she's never quite as thrilled to receive it as you want her to be. She'll give it a perfunctory scan and "thanks", while you desperately resist the urge to babble about the special significance of each particular song. Does she not understand the precious gift you've bestowed upon her?

A couple of weeks will go by and you won't hear anything from her. Or, maybe you will. In fact, maybe it's the best gift she's ever been given and she's called specifically to tell you how incredibly appreciative she is. But it won't matter. Sure, she "really likes" a few of the songs, but has her life been truly altered by what you've shared? Has her world begun anew, the sun and moon and stars replaced by dreams of you and you alone? No? Well, I guess you'll just have to try harder next time.

It was probably that damn Shaggs song you tacked onto the end—you should have known she wouldn’t find it funny.

Basically, I won't be satisfied until one of my mix tapes convinces someone to kill herself. Not out of violence or malice, mind you. It's just that, thanks to my brilliant and heartfelt compilation of pop songs, she will have been awakened to the relentless and unyielding beauty of the universe. This glimpse of paradise will be so overwhelming that she will cast herself into the swirling sea rather than return to the sad drudgery of life BMT (Before Mix Tape). I dare to dream.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.

Relevant thoughts/reflections?

New Music for Olds

Discussion about this post