Way Over My Married to a Jew Skis

Okay, my work schedule is really hard on my family. I miss family dinner every night. I’m proud to cook the dinner in the morning, but by the time I get there the kids are starting bed and I just get to help my five year old to bed and see my three year old from a distance as my wife does the honors for her bedtime. I’ve been trying to deliver great experiences outside of evening hours to compensate for my schedule. That includes getting to my daughter’s kindergarten class on Monday mornings and hanging out for an hour. I don’t do ANYTHING, but the teacher said it is still awesome to have another adult in the class and some of the kids are starting to remember me. ON A LARK I told Ms. C that I could speak about Purim next week. (Purim is a Jewish holiday that is commonly celebrated by Jews but doesn’t have the same mainstream awareness of Hannukkah or Passover). Could I pass a quiz about Purim? Hell no. Does it sound like it’s a relatively easy Holiday to summarize to a group of 5 and 6 year olds? No. There is genocide, there is sexual objectification. Why did I agree to this? I will figure it out, I will make it work. I am committed to us being a Jewish family. Can I bring treat?

UPDATE: Great emails from my Father in Law, supportive words from wife and confirmation that Cecil’s has hamentaschen. I’ve got this.

I Appeared on the Brian Oake Show, What a Treat

I had the joy of connecting with my old colleague Brian Oake. You can listen here! He runs a great podcast with his friend Sean Barnard that I listen to frequently (I strongly recommend eating up any episode he does with 90s radio friends, it is always an absolute education and laugh fest). I was honored to get the chance to talk with Brian, both about the new Heiruspecs record and about our careers in radio and our time together at the Current. I hope you’ll take the time to give it a listen.

Back at White Squirrel

Big Trouble is getting ready to hit that residency again. We’ll be taking the stage of the White Squirrel on Saturday February 25 from 6-8pm. As you may recall, this hang is the perfect opportunity to show your kids that you used to be cool. The music is on the quiet side (it was too loud for one family that came, but I don’t think the kids had heard much loud music at all before that). Mostly it works, it’s a fun time and a fun jam. Big Trouble plays instrumental music, we sound good in the room. And we’re done at 8, so like, very early. You’ll enjoy yourself. And it’s free. Let’s do this.

A flyer my brother made largely with AI which looks great.

It’s a Trip, It’s a Vacation

Some well meaning A-hole early on in your parenting career will hear you refer to some two day trip you recently took with two full bags, a noisemaker, three cameras and enough snacks to feed a stoned freshman from UMD and say “listen, it’s not a vacation, it’s not a trip”. And you’ll laugh, and you’ll finish your Summit EPA and you’ll realize that that well meaning A-hole is both correct and is an A-hole. Taking vacation days for yourself or just for you and your partner isn’t the same as going with your young kids. It would be amazing if a job just said “we’re gonna let you take sick days for this, cause we know it’s a thing you should do, but we know you aren’t getting rejuvenated”. Traveling with kids is a pain in the ass. And I think you’d have to be so wildly rich for it not to be a pain in the ass. On this particular “trip” I’m happy to say that Rachel and I also got a vacation. I have no shame in saying that it was the most fun part of the trip. I felt great about spending time with my kids, it was magical, it was rewarding. But do you know the fun of drinking free drinks at the Fort Lauderdale Embassy Suites while trying to figure how the two couples sitting right next to you are connected to each other while laughing with Rachel Levitt? If you do know that fun. . .holy shit, what are the odds? It was a joy. We ate a restaurant endorses by Guy Fieri and honestly, no apologies, wonderful, delicious and I haven’t really been disappointed by a Diners, Dives and Drive-In recommendation yet. Facts.

I also had the best cocktail of my life, and it’s not even that close. I got the Cucumber Margarita from El Camino Fort Lauderdale. Cucumber is a spectacular part of a cocktail. This one also had some kind of cordial that was spicy, but not too spicy and then they used Mezcal so it was smoky. I’ll be spending my days trying to figure out how to make this bad boy at home. Also, there was no distraction. We weren’t there for the food. We weren’t even there for the drinks. We were there to see the score of the All-Star game (Giannis beat Lebron). And the bartender was a sweetheart, we all had a good time, and that makes a drink taste so much better. So, the little Rachel and I solo vacation was the highlight but if you get to a truly warm place during a Minnesota winter, you win.

I’m in the midst of a historically le poo snowstorm here in Minnesota that I will have to traverse to get home from work tonight. I’m valiantly trying to stay in touch with the warm Florida sun in my mind. My youngest daughter turned three down there, my stepmom made a cake and let the kids decorate it. I’ve always been a big supporter of “just buy the cake” but you know what. . .decorating that cake was a whole new level of fun, so I’ve changed my tune.

I lost my wedding ring which sucks cause I love that ring, but I’ve been married for ten years, maybe it’s time for a new style. It’s not hard for me to imagine an amazing next chapter of our marriage, with a new ring. We have loose plans that we need to cement into real plans, to celebrate the occasion of us having been married for ten years. So that’s a cool opportunity to get a new ring.

As the kids get older, the travel gets easier. Everyone can walk, our five year old can walk for long ass distances without much sign of fatigue. Pretty great stuff. Since the last time I saw my Dad and his wife in person I’ve had a lot of therapy devoted to trying to get a better hold on my relationship with my childhood and thus obviously with my dad. It’s interesting to then navigate it all in person, it’s simultaneously less and more than doing it on a couch in White Bear Lake. I don’t know what I really want to talk about in regards to this . . .but I know that being open about therapy being a part of my life might help somebody else get ready to take that step and meet with a therapist. It’s helped me, not all at once, but in bits and pieces across the last five years. It’s made a difference, it’s helped me, and I bet it might help you too. It continues to help me. I’m getting something from it.

I finally got to watch the Rick James documentary from Showtime. Amazing. Not inspiring. Rick James sounds like a wildly talented and deeply tortured person. I have learned so much from his records, I love his sounds and his looks. But hearing about his dark times, it’s so painful. He served time for forced oral copulation, kidnapping, assault with a deadly weapon. These are horrible acts, acts I believe he did and acts that he served time for. He was a tortured person who was a musical genius. Of course the documentary had to spend the obligatory five minutes on the Rick James/Prince rivalry, the tea is too good to skip it. But it then got me thinking about both of these men dying before they hit sixty years old. Both deaths being connected to drug use, not necessarily drug overdoses, but the toll of drugs. It felt painful and ominous that night, watching the Rick James doc and thinking about Prince and Rick James. They were very different people, but they were black artists at the vanguard of music at the end of the 1970s who ushered in a new level of eroticism and vulnerability into the culture. Beyond that, they both had the curatorial muscle; the ability to deliver sounds and songs handcrafted for someone else. In this regard I think it’s probably fair to say that Rick James was better. James did more with the Mary Jane Girls, The Supremes, Teena Marie and company than Prince provided for most of the artists he cultivated. . .I feel conflicted saying this. . .I know how big the Time are, but I don’t know, I still give it to Rick for producer. Wow, send the hate mail to s@getoverit.org.

Now I’m back in Minneapolis, the music is washing over me, I’m getting back into the fold of things, I’ll get through this short week and get ready for a bunch of long weeks, but I come back a bit more inspired, a bit more rested and more ready for the weeks ahead.

I think that’s all I got. It was a vacation, it was a trip, it was a joy and it’s good to be back. Onward.

Rest in Peace Trugoy, Change is Neutral

I’m 41. Our heroes, our stylistic fathers, our real fathers, they are dying. Not all at once, not all from COVID. But there is a cycle of life, I’m halfway through my expected journey on this Earth (but nothing, including tomorrow, is promised). Yesterday morning I got a text from Big Zach, Zach Combs, a Minneapolis emcee I’ve been in friendship and business with since I turned 17. Trugoy the Dove, PlugTwo, Dave Joliceur died. 54 years old. One third of De La Soul. Rappers will die of natural causes. The man had congestive heart failure, he had been struggling for some years. He fed my soul. Some of the best days of my life are the summer of 1996, going to third base on the regular with my first real girlfriend, playing Road Rash on the Genesis and listening to Buhloone Mind State on the five disc changer with Steve and Conor. I would describe it now as wasting time, but I didn’t really know what waste or time was. I was just diving in to this record and even though I was young I could understand how crafted the record was. This wasn’t four world-class talents doing what they did best comfortably. This was world-class talent stretching themselves further than they thought they could go. So much of De La Soul’s career seemed to be about campaigning to be understood as full ass human beings since their biggest splash in the mainstream was misunderstood as a one dimensional bunch of hippy black kids. No, not cutouts. What they were was complete young men, which is to say incomplete adult men. Full of humor, anger, affection, inside jokes, outside jokes, vision, record collections and unbelievable skills. For the world of hip-hop I’m in, it doesn’t get bigger than Native Tongues. When the center of your universe was you and your friends record collection, when social media couldn’t so clearly tell you that not everyone loved Aceyalone, not everyone had the Sacred Hoop tape. In that era, Native Tongues was the superstars. I’ve never read a quote where any Native Tongues artist said this explicitly, but I’ve listened to all the records so I’ll say it: nothing easy. These artists might’ve made it sound effortless, but the strictures of their work . . .challenging. Three bar loop, bar of 3/4, trading across the bar line, everyone’s verse has to start with the same line, flow next to someone rapping in Japanese, navigate around long vocal loops. There was something athletic, ambitious and dextrous about Native Tongues music. Within that challenge they exuded emotion and they delivered my favorite soapbox to stand on in regards to great writing, SIGNIFICANT DETAIL. Press play on this one.

Trugoy appears first on this DJ Honda tune “Trouble in the Water” is an incredible story of a young boy moving from Brooklyn to Long Island. What do I mean when I say significant detail? I mean the moment when a writer gives you one phrase, one image, one snapshot and gives it to you so right that in that moment they have every credential they could need to speak to your soul. Trugoy gives us a handful of images in this verse that mean that for the rest of his career, he’s trustworthy to me, I trust him to paint pictures in my brain. Now what role and right do I, pudgy Massachusetts-turned-Minnesota white kid listening to DJ Honda in ‘98 cause my brother bought it at Cheapo used, have in giving a Trugoy the credential to say that I believe his story of moving out to black suburbia in the late 70s? My answer is my headphones. I have to listen to the stories I fall into, and I fall into these stories, delivered with the vision and perspective of a poet. I never thought of De La Soul as journalists, even though their authenticity is part of the their pitch, I thought and think of them as poets. “stepping to backyard parties was a blast, fucking up our sneakers on the wet grass” , it’s all in there, the youthful joy of gathering, the plus sides of backyards and more space, the pain of pristine sneakers corrupted by freshly dewed grass. But here’s the line: “now my time moves slow/ain’t it all full circle?/now a dove cry makes the whole scene turn purple/remember that night you had to hide in the freezer for real? see them kids were real/we still slid”. I hear it all in this one. I hear the significance of Prince, the connection to Trugoy the Dove, but that freezer line? I think about the Punky Brewster episode where somebody got locked in a freezer. I think about the idea of a young boy having to hide out in a freezer to hide from something, to survive something, but being able to walk confidently through the neighborhood afterwards. It has that depth. It has the significant detail. Most writers can’t get to it in 300 pages. . .Trugoy does it in two lines. Play this one:

And here’s my favorite little bite of a verse from Trugoy. Aside: some of the greatest moments in Native Tongues music is smaller than verses, it’s a no look pass to the center from the point guard, it’s an extra pass just to get it back to shoot the three. There’s an art not only in what they did, but how they did it, they did everything with finesse, with ambition, with style. Go to 2:40 on the song and listen how he lands “torn” on the one. Your basic rhyming words are going to land on the four. Great. But by the time of this release, that expectation was so frequently dashed that it was far from revelatory to drop the rhyming word on beat one. But somehow, the song didn’t have a lot of rhythmic sophistication yet, just a lot of bravado and style. Suddenly, Trugoy drops in on the one, goes off with by far the most rhythmically dense rhymes of the tune and signs off. It’s masterful, it’s cocky, it’s dextrous. Nothing easy, nothing but legendary. Rest in peace Trugoy.

FOOTNOTE: Trugoy, thank you for being an important part of the song “Baby Phat” which is how I track the start of the body positivity movement. It meant so much to see you celebrate big bodies when I was a young man, and it still means a lot. “Make the big panties look like little panties” is a classic line that I say to myself all the time.

SUBJECT CHANGE

I got to see my beautiful daughter sing in a kindergarten Valentine’s Show today and it warmed my heart. 35 years ago I was in kindergarten. My daddy probably wasn’t afraid that there might be a school shooting or stabbing that would take his son or one of his son’s classmates. I watch this class and I hope all these kids get through middle school, high school and beyond alive, healthy, with support. I also see all these kids blow the melody of the Beatles song “All You Need Is Love” and I feel so good I briefly believe that all we do need is love. But 1/8 of my brain tells me I’ll write about needing more than love later in my blog. How do we heal together? They’ll put some cops in front of some high schools for awhile. I understand why they want that. I understand why that might help. We need immediate solutions. But I don’t think they’re the permanent solution. Right? It’s not solved with a cruiser in front of the school. We had the cruiser in front of my high school my entire time at Central. I think it was Officer Brown. A thousand walkie talkies is all I remember. Grab a kazoo and blow a message to everyone that can hear: all you need is love. It’s not true, but don’t you love a kazoo.

Her Word Is Bomb, Psalm One’s new book is a joy

When I was in third grade going to school in Williamstown, MA some students from Williams College would come to meet students and teach them about writing. I was a very ambitious elementary school writer who had already been pushing out long, albeit shitty, stories. I rattled off the plot of the stories I had designs on writing to this undergrad and she seemed impressed. After getting through my science fiction-esque tales I told her I wanted to write a story about going to the grocery store or something equally mundane but I added that nobody would want to read it, that it would be boring. This young woman said “if you tell it well, it will never be boring”. That comment has stuck with me and it has had a great impact on my writing and on the way I relate to other’s writing.

Psalm One, aka Cristalle Bowen, has written a book that is fundamentally interesting. . .it’s called Her Word is Bond. Whether the chapter is documenting her highest highs or her lowest lows there’s a beauty in telling it well. Her story is notably unique but it’s also relatable. It’s a story with the ups and downs that most of us experience, rather than the clear trajectory towards superstardom that we often see documented in musician autobiographies. Psalm is a Chicago artist who made an early career pivot from chemistry to hip-hop and navigated complex personal and business relationships with a commitment to being true to herself. Since her professional start circa 2000 Psalm One spent periods of time on the road and on top of the world and times broke-as-shit stringing together a living with odd jobs and piecemeal gigs. No matter where she’s at in her career progression she tells it unflinchingly. This is what I love. She takes account of the staggering disrespect she sustained at times in the her career but she doesn’t let herself off the hook. There’s opportunities, collaborations that she derailed or sabotaged and she holds herself to task. There’s no way to know every side of ANY story, but I find this honesty in Psalm’s stories about her personal life as well.

I’ve crossed paths with Psalm One for pretty much the entirety of her career. We’ve shared stages together plenty of times and I know that that proximity plays a role in this book being such a page turner for me. I remember some of these shows, some of these releases, some of these issues. I can’t compare my path to Psalm’s, there’s more difference than there is commonality, but what I read rings true. The way your living can hinge on a couple emails and phone calls, a couple reviews, a handful of people thinking the right thing about you and hopefully thousands of people agreeing. It is fucking precarious. It’s also precarious to navigate the world of “underground” hip-hop. You want the right people to like you, but maybe you fear that things will be worse if the wrong people like you first. But primarily, I find making a living as a creative artist precarious because it’s constantly falling apart. Speaking for my time trying to make a go of it strictly as an artist. . .it was beautiful and ugly and depressing and boring and thrilling and it is absolutely exhilarating to read some version of this story in a real ass book. I file this book right next to So You Wanna Be a Rock and Roll Star from Jacob Slichter. That book is a story of Semisonic’s drummer finding out how boring fame is.When you tell a story well, it can never be boring. Her Word is Bond is a beautiful snapshot of a woman who has persevered in a profoundly challenging profession not to come out on top. . .just to fucking come out. To come out healthier, sober, more creative, more aware and quite simply more alive. It’s a beautiful book to read and it gives me so much more perspective on an incredible artist’s life. Thank you for writing it Psalm.

Rest in Peace to Mike Dreams

The Twin Cities music scene lost a fantastic artist this week. The universe lost a beautiful human being, a father, a friend, a supporter. Michael Hannah aka Mike Dreams is an artist I can only describe as an associate, we weren’t close but I cared for him and his work. We played music together moons ago when he was a featured performer for an open mic concert that Toki Wright and myself put together over at McNally Smith for the Hip-Hop Studies program. Since that time my primary connection with Mike Dreams was him connecting me with his music for play on the radio. He sent along his releases; they were always top-notch professional productions and he was one of those artists who took himself seriously. When someone exudes that confidence and resolve about their work, it makes it easier to engage with the work, easier to believe in. Mike Dreams was an easy person to believe in. He was honest about his struggles in his music and in his social media presence but within that honesty he was also honest about his belief in himself, his pride in his impressive accolades.

Mike Dreams made triumph music. In that genre I connected what he was doing with what Nipsey Hussle was doing. These are men who celebrated wins in spite of adversity, it wasn’t simply bragging, it was. . .well . . .triumphing. Mike also exuded the energy of somebody who HAD TO DO MUSIC. I’ve been around long enough to meet people who are working on music cause it’s a fit for them at the time. . .maybe their roommates are encouraging them, maybe they just got a new guitar. Great. But when the circumstances change, I know the music will stop. But there are people you meet where you know they will be making music on a Fisher-Price mic and a TASCAM if it comes to that. . .the need to create is forever and it’s strong. That was always what I got off of Mike Dreams. He was an all-seasons creator, nothing fairweather about his commitment to his craft.

I’ve spoken to a couple friends who were also connected to Mike since his untimely passing. I don’t know the circumstances of Mike’s death and it isn’t my place to guess. But, in a macro sense, I worry about how death piles up around us, a level of death that isn’t right and anecdotally isn’t the norm for previous generations. I don’t believe my dad and mom spent their thirties and forties hearing about friends dying in these sorts of numbers. I marvel at how it all keeps on happening. We all seem to agree it needs to stop, and it does not stop. Police killing unarmed people, people suffering from depression and taking their own lives, young people killing other young people, children getting their hands on guns. At this very moment it is this pile up of bad news after bad news. I pull news stories for the newsbreaks on Jazz88 and I know that pretty much everyone who does that work ends up fighting back tears as you read about the painful stories you pull from and prepare for broadcast. I don’t have a way to wrap up this thought. We are in a cycle of pain, of death, of government sanctioned killings and nothing nearly drastic enough is happening to stop this cycle.

From the day he was born, Mike Dreams’ story was unique. He crafted a career and a name in a very competitive music world, he told his stories and he touched people with his music. He will be missed most dearly by those closest to him, but I mourn him too, he was a beautiful human and the world is worse without him. Rest in Peace Mike Dreams.

A Very Opinionated List of the Greatest Weekly Music Events in Twin Cities History Mid 90s - Now

Dr. Mambo’s Combo at Bunker’s Sundays and sometimes Mondays since 1987. To thrive a weekly needs a combination of the expected and the unexpected. If I know everything that’s happening every week, why would I come back? If it’s a completely clean slate, what is going to drive me to get my ass out of the house on a cold Sunday? Sundays with Dr. Mambo’s Combo has a bit of all of it, maybe a legendary touring band is coming through, maybe it’s Michael B on drums, maybe it’s Petar, maybe it’s that shaved head dude. Who knows. But there also expectations, they’re probably going to play more Gap Band than you expected and less Prince than you friend from out of town expected. They’ll be a committed dance floor, they’ll be fun. One time I was there and it was empty (probably first set in the middle of August). One of the singers in between songs from a seated position announced confidently: “we don’t play our originals at these shows. . .because I prefer to jerk off at home”. I still think about that line and laugh all the time. You never know quite what is gonna happen at Bunkers, but you know what you can count on. It’s a beautiful thing and whenever I have a musician friend visiting town I make sure they see it.

Some of the elite players that make up Dr. Mambo’s Combo including Kevin, The Juice, Margaret, Michael B (above), Billy Franze (RIP), and Sonny T.

The Tuesday Open Mics with Kevin Washington and Desdamona at The Blue Nile I’m gonna guess maybe 2000-2012?
Rest in peace to The Blue Nile. Located on Franklin right by the Taco Bell (which I’m told is also no longer there). The Ethiopian food was not good in my opinion, the hang was spectacular. Amazing sound system, legendary recurring events, a musician centric hang. This open mic was courageously curated with a real sense that you could see a legend next to a rank amateur within a ten minute time span. But throughout the whole run, I thought that Desdamona and Kevin did an incredible job of pacing, swapping up familiar with brand new and the whole time creating this amazing hang. I saw a lot of now greats step on stage at their humble start over at that night. Recently I’ve reconnected with Pavielle as she started hosting a show at Jazz88 and half of our conversations are about these open mics. There’s a story Pavielle wants to tell and document about the Poetry Slam/Open Mic scene that developed in the Twin Cities from 95-maybe 2005 and wow, I want to read that story and I’m hoping I can help find a way to get that story told properly.

Headspin at Bon Appetit in Dinkytown for maybe one year around 2000.

This one has personal significance for me. I was not part of organizing these events but Zach, Serum and many others put together a weekly that offered up a lot of great music, including plenty of Heiruspecs shows. I spent a long time thinking that the only way you could have a great weekly is if it was possible for young people to get their hands on some beer from time to time. I have seen many weeklies that don’t follow that rule, but wow, was it easy to buy a pitcher up front at Bon Appetit and share it with the whole team back in the back room. The energy of Headspin was compelling, there was crews coming from all over the Cities, there were even visiting artists from other cities and the spirit was wonderful. I wasn’t at the center of it, but I spent many Sundays thinking in real time, “this will be one of the most special chapters in my life”. And I was right.

The New Primitives at Mayslacks (Thursdays?)

I’ve never had a physical reaction to music quite like waltzing into Mayslacks and seeing Stan, Chico and company deliver the goods. I had the lowest of low expectations, not cause I didn’t expect them to be good, I just didn’t expect them to be cooking yet. I walked in at maybe 9:30 and figured if they were playing it was going to be very first set sounding. Tentative, everyone is fixing their amps, working on the details, not ready to really go yet. But what I walked into was an insane energy and if I’m not mistaken they were working with a DJ at the time who would do some things during the set and then take it over for set breaks. It was sweaty, it was funky, it was raw and the stage presence was wild. People sharing mics, cymbals, drinks, probably joints. It was just this explosion on stage and I couldn’t believe I had missed it until then. Unbelievable.

B3 Nights at the Artists Quarter 1995-2011

I’ll keep it absolutely real. I went to this thing maximum . . .twice. But getting to see Billy Holloman work that organ and all sorts of folks guest with poetry, some with instruments. It was so exciting, so engaging and so clearly the center of so many people’s weekly calendars. I felt like I had walked into a family meeting with booze. There was this spirit like the rest of the week’s hours were just preamble and post script to these hours together at the Artists Quarter. Unbelievable.

Real bummer I didn’t find a photo with Billy Holloman in it.

Molly Maher and her Disbelievers at Nye’s Polonaise Room Wednesdays 2000-2010?

This one was such a fun hang. Martin Devaney brought me down to this thing a couple times and it was one of those nights that had its own chemistry. Nobody was strangers after song one. There was just a forced intimacy in that room, plus the martinis were strong (and as a I recall sort of uncomfortably expensive). Man, some good times watching that band. And the one guitar player who worked at Willie’s, he was just unnecessarily good. Distractingly good. I wouldn’t know most of the songs and now that I’ve gotten more into that style of music I realize they were playing the great shit. Sometimes some famous people would roll out, but mainly it was Molly just holding court and making the vibe right. She is a great front person because I think she could give two shits about being a front person and that’s a huge part of the magic. (I have a theory that the secret to someone being good on the radio is them not thinking they would be good on the radio). Magic.

photo by Tony Nelson, who I am attempting to compensate!

Les Exodus at The Blue Nile (late 90s to maybe 2015)

There are differences between Les Exodus and the International Reggae All-Stars but I can’t tell you every difference. What I can tell you is that Thursdays belonged to Exodus. I haven’t heard many people call them Les Exodus to be 100% percent honest with you. I definitely say Exodus. But NO BAND, NO BAND at all sounds as good as this band did at Exodus before the one kind of jerky sound guy quit. I believe he built the soundboard. He was part of the band. He cooked all this extra bass into the system without having it be overbearing. No, it was something else. This band has two incredibly charismatic vocalists without either of them being “STAR POWERED”. They are just incredible to listen to, to spend a couple sets with. This was the band that played our wedding no bullshit.

October 20, 2013 Les Exodus delivering it at Rachel and Sean’s excellent wedding.

(I’ve just spent a long time watching a video thinking it was a guy that looked a lot like Drake but it’s actually Drake). Good song. In fact, pretty awesome song, and great videos, especially if you appreciate a butt. I do.

I also appreciate Les Exodus. That keyboard player, Chili, he’s out of control. He’s running three four things at the same time, triggering some, some are looping up and he exudes this massive calm, when he’s playing he looks like he’s watching a show, not playing one. When I went and saw em a lot it was Jordan Carlson on drums and then Andy Mark on bass. When I was really working with Dessa Andy Mark was the sub for Heiruspecs gigs. He is just such a great bass player, and absolute natural. That’s not to say the man didn’t work on his craft, but at this point he just exudes this straight up fucking mastery. Him playing with that group at Exodus, with the huge bass amp that stayed there? It was just massive. And this was the first place I really saw what could be done with having one of those drum pads next to you. Sure, I’d seen drumpads next to a kit, but I hadn’t seen them stuffed with amazing low tones, and claps, and washed out effects. Unbelievable. And this weekly was the one where suddenly this reggae fan found a little bit of that dancehall. I hadn’t gone hard for dancehall, but here I was falling in love with it. What a treat. This weekly had another magical thing, every set served a different crew. If I recall the opening set caught late diners and folks who were just catching one drink. The middle set kind of split the difference, everyone is there, taking it in, enjoying the scene and maybe moving. The final set. . .ALL DANCEHALL, lots of dancing lots of energy. Legendary. So many great memories.

All of Mint Condition playing Latin Tinged Jazz at Babalu with Wallace Hill as Joto 2006?-2008? Wednesdays?

Mint Condition (RIP) and their individual members are an under-appreciated part of the Minnesota music scene. Is a big part of this racism? Absolutely! We have a gold selling R&B band that hails from St. Paul and is revered the world over for their live performances and songcraft. And besides for a cover story (legit work from Peter Scholtes) I bet they were mentioned in City Pages 1/2 to 2/3 as often as many bands with vastly smaller fanbases and national profiles. Even to this day Stokley shows up on records with the like of Robert Glasper, Nate Smith and other rising stars in the world of forward thinking black music without getting the type of love he should be commanding from local media. And there’s opportunities to celebrate because the players of Mint Condition have stayed quite involved in the local scene beyond their primary projects. DeVon from Heiruspecs brought me down to see Joto sometime in the 2010s and what I witnessed was so inspired. This wasn’t R&B guys dabbling in jazz with a conga thrown in for some Latin flavor. No, this was bonafide masters of Latin jazz stretching out and going for broke. These sessions were so powerful. This band was a powerhouse and the scene was beautiful. Mint Condition and surrounding scenes: perhaps the most attractive fans in the Twin Cities. Nicely tailored suits, folks dressed like it’s a Friday on a Wednesday, some just beautiful human beings taking in this music. Also, people would dance to these jazz performances. Even when the songs would rhumba right into the ten minute mark there would still be committed dancers moving it. Unbelievable.

Couldn’t find any photo of Joto. Here’s a publicity photo of Stokley.

3:33⅓ King Pari - Sunshine

Today the sun felt great and that prompted me to pull out one of my favorite jams. Cameron Kinghorn is a wildly talented vocalist who is now working out in LA but was basically on every stage in Minnesota for about half a decade. I had the chance to play music with him a couple times and it was clear he was one of those individuals who got music on every single level, the nuts, the bolts, the heart, the people, the scales, the who the fuck cares about scales. He got it all. Unbelievable. He did a gig with me where he sang MY SONGS. Songs I wrote and he could remember the whole shape of a melody just by writing down what scale degree the line started on. And my words were clunky, with lots of syllables and strange turns and he handled them ably. Unbelievable. And on the ride to this gig in Fargo he was just high spirits, engaged, conversational and positive.

His partner Joe is an incredibly positive, capable musician who completely leveled up with his work in King Pari. He was the leader of a group called PHO that always created great funk music, but seemed to always play it safe and keep it kind of jam band adjacent (even though they packed incredible skills into those jams). But he arrived as a real creative force in King Pari. They are out in LA blowing minds and hopefully one day they’ll eclipse their current level of acclaim, but they are already doing pretty darn good.

The Record.

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3:33⅓ D’Angelo - Spanish Joint

As I’ve really laid off of direct twitter posting and tried to start a different kind of relationship with social media I started up a little text crew with Martin Devaney, Chuck Terhark and Steve McPherson. It’s my best friend, my closest business partner and my brother. We call that text crew “twitter” cause it is basically the replacement for twitter for all of us. I asked everyone what they thought the best album released during their lifetime was. I went with D’Angelo’s Voodoo. For me a close second is Lauryn Hill’s “The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill”. But I think those skits really set it back a bit. And that’s not cause I’m anti-skit! I’m pro skit, but those go on too long and I don’t find them additive enough on repeat listens. BUT, suffice it to say, I love Voodoo. I wrote about it here. But I’m spinning Spanish Joint on Jazz88 right now and I’m just loving it. Amazing hand percussion from Giovanni Hidalgo. Had never really cued in on that.

In Sean news, this morning sucked/ended up okay. I was urged to get a colonoscopy even though I’m not yet 45 because of some family issues. OKAY, cool. It was an intense pain in the ass cause I’m fat. They make you do it a hospital. They make you get a physical. Cool. But then I got COVID, had to skip my first appointment. Then rescheduled months later and they made me get another physical. FINE. Did it. Doctor was super understanding and agreed this whole system is bullshit. Then, United Healthcare is trying to make me share the cost of everything big time since I’m not 45 years old yet. WAIT? But this was recommended. I don’t toss a camera up ye ol’ sewer just for a good time. Medical professionals told me to do this. So what’s the deal? I got it recoded as a screening with MNGI but who knows if that actually means United brings these bills down. I hate health care. I hate knowing I’ll have worse health outcomes in my life not necessarily because of my weight but because of the hurdles that my weight creates for me to get good care. WOW, terrible. You just have to look away and try to take care of yourself and be an advocate for yourself in the face of a juggernaut monster out to profit on pain.

The good news is that Heiruspecs’ vinyl arrived today and that I still have an amazing family, job and community around me.

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The Hiatus is off. . .Again. Big Trouble is back at White Squirrel this Saturday.

Big Trouble is an instrumental quartet featuring Me McPherson on bass, Steve McPherson on guitar (yes he’s my brother), Josh Peterson on guitar and Peter Leggett on drums. We are having a mild renaissance as a side project. We are practicing once a month. We are coming up with new ideas. We are doing an Elliott Smith song (they’re even letting me play the melody). We are doing a Feist song. I think the excitement comes from having a standing gig that really fits our vibe and also works for our fans (for this band our fans are really are friends, but I do truly think they like what the band is doing). Thanks to Laura from the White Squirrel for fixing us up with a standing monthly over at White Squirrel. I hope you can come down sometime between 6-8pm and take in the show this Saturday. It’s free. Kids are welcome until 8pm at the White Squirrel always. And don’t plan on easily getting you or your kids fed over at White Squirrel. The White Squirrel is a great drinking bar, but do your eating before or after. There is plenty of great food in the neighborhood!

A flyer my brother made largely with AI which looks great.

3:33⅓ Wayne Shorter - Speak No Evil

Playing some vinyl on Jazz88 as per usual. Went with the title track to Wayne Shorter’s “Speak No Evil” album for today. I just received the new Lakecia Benjamin record in the mail and she’s got Wayne’s voice on there so I’ve had him on the brain all day. What beautiful writing and what supportive playing. In a different way than any group of players in the jazz world, I find something collaborative and song-centric about the players from Miles Second Great Quintet.

Okay, well, I better get this posted and start promoting the Big TRouble show on Saturday.

The Record.

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3:33⅓ Leo Nocentelli - Your Song

I hope you’re having a good day. I’ve been deep in podcasts and emotions about fat identity, and all the issues that remove so much dignity from your life when you’re fat. On top of that I have a spectacularly nuanced version of the Mondays. Being in touch with what makes you truly happy also means being right around when you just feel a little off, a little shaken up. And maybe I’m hitting that age where I realize that there are more things I’ll want to do than I’ll have time for. And also realizing that making the special things you want to exist means a lot of work, a lot of extra work. A lot of trying to connect people, a lot of trying to get people to see eye to eye. I got to reconnect with Trivia Mafia, the fantastic company that I started with Chuck Terhark about fifteen years ago. We had our holiday party on Saturday. . .now I don’t do anything for the company anymore besides for own 1/2 of it, but do you think I’m going to miss a gathering for the company I started? Shit no. It was a joy. And to see these people who came from all over the metro (and one flew from Colorado) who work for Trivia Mafia, to come together and celebrate. It’s amazing, it’s inspiring. Now I can’t have the same pride in the company I once did now that I don’t get my hands dirty with operations for Trivia Mafia. I have pride, but I am not putting sweat into taking the company to the next level. But to see what is thriving from something Chuck and I started up when we were 20 somethings is pretty amazing. So many emotions. Anywhoo, I played Leo Nocentelli today on Jazz88.

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3:33⅓ Miles Davis - Relaxin’ with Miles Davis

I’ve been really behind with this blog. Partially because I start typing and then my radio job gets in the way! Not today radio job! I’ll simply share this beautiful picture of my feet and a Miles Davis record and leave it at that.

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3:33⅓ The Pharaohs - Somebodys Been Sleeping

Nailed it. Got into work early for a meeting and ended up making the most out of the day. Edited an interview, did some editing work for a specialty show, wrote some blog posts and generally just did it up. What a treat. Also, I humorously requested a Nut Roll from our program director and he delivered. The Nut Roll is not only Minnesota significant, it’s also delicious.

One part of being a Music Director at a radio station that is interesting is having a day or two per week where you specifically designate as “taking calls”. This means radio promoters call up to talk about the records they are promoting. The great ones call each week, recognize that not everything they hawk will fit your format, and really care about what you’re doing at your station. I didn’t know if I would like this part of the job when I took it, but I got to say I love it. I speak to people who are passionate about music and care about advancing the art form of jazz. I understand that they are trying to promote their music, and great music deserves great promotion, but I also get to actually TALK ON A LAND LINE about great music. Phones used to be great. . .cell phones are terrible, but phone conversation is a great thing. I learn about great artists, I learn about other awesome radio programmers across the country. So I like call day. I am sending good thoughts to Neal who is out in California dealing with the torrential rains and flooding that California is facing.

When deciding what to pull out for vinyl I felt like hearing something that uses jazz as a point of departure and stretches into something else, in this case more of a straight groove thing. Man, a driving band with a powerful horn section, it’s one of my favorite sounds in music, and it’s one of my favorite sounds on VINYL. Enjoy it friends and have an awesome Wednesday.

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Tiring Out Your Own Legs, Why Don’t We Hang Out and Podcast Issues

I couldn’t get this blog to work for awhile and I was struggling because there were things I wanted to write. I also have found myself struggling with my limited activity on social media in regards to getting help. Twitter is a problematic spot, but I’ve gotten some great advice on practical and impractical issues from my throngs of follows (or TOF for short). In my tweeting days I’d be asking questions like this:

• Why can’t the windshield wipers on my Volvo stand up away from the car like everyone else’s can?

• Is anyone else having a problem with the podcasts they listen to seeming to dart around the conversation perhaps through a bug in the player or with crappy editing on the producers part (Ezra Klein’s latest with Dan Savage is the one I’m struggling with the most)

• What is the deal when your squarespace page looks fine to visitors, but editing it is lacking the colors, fields and other areas you need to create a new blog. My “edit” side of squarespace for a couple days looked like a website that was loading on bad internet quality. . .no images. . .no colors. . .many formerly clickable things that weren’t clickable. . .it sucked

Questions like that are a place where Twitter really excels. You ask those questions, one person makes fun of you for your Volvo but mainly you get answers, quickly, and without wading through tons of articles that have false information on it. Feel free to give my your former twitter takes at s@heiruspecs.com

January is a great month for re-appreciaiting your existing routines. I know it is a ripe time to change up routines as well, and I’ve done a bit of that. But after about two weeks of schedules losing nearly all meaning with holidays, e-learning days and additional days off, it feels pretty magical to fall back in to some things. On Sunday I got to fall back in to doing a workout at the Y and then hanging out with Martin Devaney at the coffee shop of your dreams and mine, J&S in St. Paul. The workout was particularly magical because I had hurt the top of my ankle on January 2, had to cancel a session with a trainer related to that and the snow days and was basically M.I.A. from exercise for about ten days. The foot thing was particularly hard because I am still stuck in that mentality that anything is wrong with me must be a symptom of permanent, lasting damage I’ve voluntarily inflicted upon myself as a fat person. Even though I test negative for diabetes and take many actions to keep diabetes at bay, this pain in my foot has me thinking about my foot being amputated and wondering how I can hit effects pedals on stage from a wheelchair. I can’t explain why the foot hurts, I didn’t do anything to it. And ye’ old internet is happy to double down on my fears of amputation and recommend solutions that should help this non-problem. The pain moves on, the workout commences, but I am now utterly aware that I’ve inflicted a level of stress on my psyche that will stick around a lot longer than the foot pain. What a treat as they say.

But this work out on Sunday was short and beautiful, ten minutes of running, three weight lifting exercises done 10-15 times per set, with three sets. Simple, awesome and the best thing is the way your legs feel the rest of the day. Exercise quiets your ambition in some of the same ways that marijuana can. Have you ever smoked something after 8:10pm and started putting off completely completable tasks until tomorrow just because? Exercise gives me maybe a slightly connected feeling to that. Whenever I’m struggling to complete something else for the rest of the day I can think: “well, you did squats that felt absolutely incredible this morning, you can feel the furnace of your body moving and you’re gonna do your best to complete this task but if not, it was still a magical day.” I believe that marijuana and exercise both offer me up a little bit of self-forgiveness and understanding. In both situations I give myself the benefit of the doubt in a significant way. I don’t believe I always got that out of every form of exercise, it has been more pronounced when there is weight lifting involved. What a treat, as they say.

A common theme of podcasts I’ve been listening to involve the impossibility of parenting in general and parenting in an atomic family for sure. I am lucky to feel in a more tight circle of parenting than just my atomic family. My brother and his family live in town. My in-laws live in town. On top of that, I feel a network with my neighbors. Not necessarily a “drop the kids off for hours” vibe but a lot of parenting across the yard, a lot of activities we all bring our kids too. So I believe comparatively, I’ve got it pretty good when it comes to parenting. But friends, I thought we were gonna hang out more even when we had kids. Pre-kids, I felt comfortable if I was out and about or with people at home 5-6 nights a week. I think everyday should have work and it should have fun and I really enjoy seeing people. And there is just no momentum in that direction as a young dad at all. I do see people, I do get out to events, but it’s a straight uphill battle. There’s just this magnetism to staying at home and this necessity to it. Someone needs to be at home with the children. If that someone ain’t you or your wife, you are frequently paying for it, and if you aren’t paying for it you are still inconveniencing someone in your circle. I have a lot of fun work, I’m at shows for my job, I play bass at shows for my job. BUT, I didn’t think it would be this big of a drought as far as social time goes. I wouldn’t change it, but my dear lord, I almost hate to get glimpses of it. I drive down Lake Street and there are at least 30% new businesses relative to the last time I drove down this stretch by Bde Maka Ska. I just don’t go there.

When the kids do get more manageable. . .what remains? What is available. Some friends will be starting their parenting journey. Some friends will be disinterested in going out for reasons independent of children. I had no idea how unique my access to free time would be in my 20s. I filled it up with activities, many of them really positive and career fortifying for later in my life, but they started off free. We’d add rehearsals, game nights, concerts to see, the pizza farm. I thought it was all great and I didn’t think it would stop. It has stopped. Does it come back a little and what does it look like. One of the lyrics my dad fixated most was from “You Never Give Me Your Money” by the Beatles, a band from England. McCartney sings “oh that magic feeling, nowhere to go”. At a couple times in my childhood my dad would highlight that lyric and say “I haven’t had that feeling in. . .____(blank) years” almost always carbon dating the loss of that feeling to the birth of my older brother Steve. Same as me, my dad wasn’t cursing the presence of his children in his life, but he was highlighting that they come with this absolute modification of what free time is and what it costs. And I believe that that grand compromise between the feeling of youthful free time and the presence of children is not 100% baked into the recipe of having children. It’s baked into the recipe of raising children in a primarily atomic family vacuum, it’s baked into the recipe of the helicopter parent who aim to maximize every moment of potential glory for our little ones. And I don’t know that it has to be that way. Quick Sidebar: maybe earlier generations had more people in touch with their free time because the woman involved in raising the kids had even less. Maybe my dad singing the “no free time blues” is a good thing relative to earlier generations of dads who didn’t get their hands dirty with parenting whatsoever. But, I honestly want to rebel against the absence of free time without leaving my wife holding the bag and I think it’s possible. I think it comes with adjusting expectations, ending helicopter parent aspirations and making sure to take advantage of the moments of freedom that one can conjure up in this period of life. What a treat, as I say.

3:33⅓ Richard Groove Holmes - I Can’t Stop Dancing

Life is good today. I finished a book and started a book yesterday. I had a BLT today (like a rank amateur I ordered it with wheat bread. . .I usually love wheat bread, but a BLT demands white bread). And I’m really happy in my work. Pavielle started a new show on Jazz88. I’m trying to shine lights every week on the following things: an amazing new release, an amazing album from the vaults and a celebration of the new songs we’re playing on Jazz88. Hard work feels great, especially in the winter. And this work feels hard, but I feel like I have the role and the skills to make a positive impact for radio listeners, for Minnesota musicians and frankly for musicians working period! When you have dedicated passionate radio people who really want to shine a light on great music and will work hard to do so, that’s a good thing for the universe. Sean McPherson, a good thing for the universe.

The book I finished is Bowling Alone. Here’s my big takeaway. Alloys. Alloys are settings where digital tools are used only to increase, improve or deepen in person contact. That’s my shit. I use text messages, social media and radio all in the service of bringing people together for experiences and for hangs. We need to harness these digital tools for improving our in-person universe not for escaping it. The book was great but holy shit, as far as predicting that the country was tearing apart at the seams and nobody hangs with each other anymore. . .that was prophetic in 2000 when he wrote it. . .now it’s like wild repetitive. Hey Robby Putnam, this is the future calling, you’re right, we’re screwed, don’t tell me everything about this table.

The book I started is Psalm One’s Her Word is Bond. Turns out I’ve known Psalm for a long time and we are almost exactly the same age. We’ve lived really different lives but have been in some of the same circles. She rapped with Heiruspecs a couple times and we’ve shared bills a lot. Well, I am hooked on the book. I’m at the age where people I know are writing books and I’m realizing I wasn’t on all these islands alone. I thought I was the only person who liked some of the records she liked, I thought I was the only person who felt about music and the music business the way she did. So, it’s already beautiful and inspiring.

Grabbed this record and it just felt right. This record keeps on delivering me good jams and I appreciate Richard Groove Holmes and Gerald Wilson for that.

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3:33⅓ The Three Sounds - Blue Daniel

Getting into work was a whole shift today. Digging out of the snow, not being able to get my Volvo to get into the road. Yes bravo, it’s four wheel drive, no one cares if the car is floating in air suspended by two+ feet of cornstarch thick ass snow. So I went for the gentle sounds of The Three Sounds and things went well. Sometimes you just play the records and it doesn’t have to mean a lot. But I know it can still mean a lot on the other end if it hits you right.

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Did Major Label Hip-Hop Market Correct Underground Hip-Hop

Fat Joe was on ESPN on Christmas Day. He was talking with Stephen A. Smith and it was joyous. I think Stephen A. Smith is absolutely incredible at his job. And Fat Joe is a charmer and clearly loves the Knicks which must be a real difficult situation. Although, I think across the last 20 years the Knicks have provided more joy for their fanbase than The Timberwolves. Chris Finch, when you want a recommendation for one more decent meal to get before you get figgity fired, liggity let me know.

So I had Fat Joe on the brain all day. When everyone was making videos with models hanging all over them while sporting copious amounts of jewelry, Fat Joe was close to a Gold medalist in having the most models hanging all over him and the copiousest jewelry arranged across his white tee. I had to go find the video for Lean Back. It’s my favorite jam from the Fat Joe catalog, hands down. This song felt paradoxical, somehow epic and spare, skeletal and regal. But I watched the video. I don’t think I had seen it before. It looked great, the models looked spectacular. But it didn’t look skeletal and regal. It looked bacchanal and to some extent awkwardly indulgent. It felt as though everyone was to some extent going through the motions of making a jiggy video. The song is also a dance video about not dancing. I’m enjoying the video at the same time I’m thinking about how much it’s just hitting one note. There’s no intended humor that I can discern, what I see in the video is this substantiation of Terror Squad as a great hip-hop crew on top of a legendary beat by a legendary producer with the video set to prove it. It feels like a victory lap and an assertion of dominance in the hip-hop scene. What confuses me is at the time I thought of this as not only the pinnacle of hip-hop success, but also, the only variety of pinnacle that could bring someone to these heights. I would listen to hip-hop artists with a smaller commercial footprint: Little Brother, Comon, Murs, The Roots, Hieroglyphics, Atmosphere, Aesop Rock and many others. . .and though I certainly appreciated their work and sought to emulate their work, I was aware that by emulating their work there was a clear ceiling of how high any artist trafficking in those textures could go. And that ceiling wasn’t super high. None of the artists I just mentioned, whether on a major label or not, could play an Xcel Energy Center which I think expects attendance of north of 10,000 to describe a show as a success. In fact, a lot of them would struggle to sell out a 3,000 capacity venue in many markets. To get some kind of “full meal” in the world of hip-hop it felt mandatory to me to enjoy Fat Joe and other monstrously successful major label artists to enjoy this one note pinnacle of masculine bravado and also seek out artists from some smaller scenes. It required me frequently to attend smaller capacity venues, to explore niche magazines and blogs to learn of where these artists could be found. IT WAS FUN AS SHIT. My band, Heiruspecs, was a small but significant part of that wave. So it was doubly fun to follow these artists, track them, grovel for opening slots from them. BUT BUT BUT BUT here’s the thing, when I scan my brain I can think of very few rappers from before 2012 who I truly believed were WORLD CLASS rappers who played a stadium show in the Twin Cities. Jay Z. came through with a Reebok tour that also featured 50 Cent in the summer of 2003. I know the Beastie Boys and Eminem have both done stadium shows at some point during my time in the Twin Cities. But, until I heard about Chance the Rapper coming through to play the Xcel Energy Center, and then in quick succession hearing about J. Cole, Logic and others, I just didn’t think amazing rappers played the big rooms or had the careers that required a room of that size to accommodate their fanbase.

WHAT CHANGED? Some of it is the economics of music. Touring is an essential part of many more musicians income than it was during the CD era. No doubt. But something else changed, artists who provided many more emotions, notes and sonic diversity in their music started to sell massive units and play shows with more regularity. Major label rap is better than it has ever been. I can find a lot of what I used to have to go to twenty five blogs to find on one Kendrick Lamar record. It was actually a truly disorienting feeling to hear Good Kid M.a.a.d. City for the first time. It was strange to hear an artist this universally lauded, this widely endorsed by the major tastemakers in mainstream hip-hop where the beats varied so greatly between songs, the primarily vocalist used many different voices to communicate his narrative, and the concept of the album was so complex that I wasn’t sure I was listening to it in the right order. Also, it was a success as a front to back record, it was incredibly listenable as a whole ambitious piece. I didn’t expect such committed ART from a major label rapper. At this point I need to carve out some space for Jay-Z period, and for Jay-Z from Blueprint to American Gangster in particular. Jay-Z sold immense amounts of records, crafted albums that might not have achieved the singular impact of Good Kid, but still albums that were artful and inspiring. I believe this through line is one of the reasons who Jay-Z has maintained a large percentage of his relevance across these eras. He’s remained pertinent partially because I believe he wasn’t exclusively aiming at the hyper-masculinity jiggy energy that many of his peers were. Sure, Jay Z. hit those notes, but not in exclusion to others sounds, to other songs.

UNDERGROUND HIP-HOP IS LESS PERTINENT NOW BECAUSE COMMERCIAL HIP-HOP IS BETTER The market spoke with artists like Kendrick, Drake, Tyler the Creator, J. Cole and many others. A lot of the artists that are even a couple levels of fame below those artists are still huge artists selling large amounts of records and filling massive rooms in most markets. Fans are getting a fuller offering of a hip-hop experience without having to go into small corners of the world to hear small artists. The value proposition for underground hip-hop has changed because there is less artistic real estate ignored by major labels. That’s my take. Happy New Years.

3:33⅓ Grant Green “Am I Blue”

So guess what, I love organ jazz today too. I was close to play a great record from the Meters called “Find Yourself”. If you’ve ever enjoyed Naughty By Nature’s “Feel Me Flow” than you’ve heard the tune. I decided to go to a slightly more down the middle selection for a jazz station. I know my tastes can bring in more funky music and I know that the promise of a jazz station involves funk only in doses. Sometimes I feel people are surprisingly uncomfortable with the artists who bridge genres and with the songs that are so spectacular that they deserve a spin on any station that cares about providing world class music. On the other hand, I also know the disappointment of when you have an expectation from what you’re thinking you’ll get from a radio station and you’re not hearing that reflected in your speakers. I get it all, but suffice it to say, this afternoon I decided to go with something unimpeachably jazzy. Working for me, working for you, working for the art.

The Artwork.