Myself

GENTLEMAN GIANNIS | 2025-05-01

More than half of the 2025 NBA Playoff First Round match-ups have already been sorted out. In less than ten days of scheduled playtime since the official kick-off of the ‘postseason that counts’, five teams across the Eastern and Western Conferences have already taken care of business, securing a landlocked spot in the Second Round. Two series sweeps, seeing each Conference’s top seed flat-out ridicule their fellow lowest-seeded Play-In Tournament hopefuls (Oklahoma City Thunder and Cleveland Cavaliers versus the Memphis Grizzlies and the Miami Heat, respectively), one giant upset (sixth-seeded Minnesota Timberwolves dethroning the LA Lakers), as well as a couple predictable verdicts, albeit not without late clutch play drama (here’s looking at you, Indiana Pacers—more on this in a jiffy). Amidst it all, there isn’t even a need to front here: our predictions have so far left a lot to be desired—see bracket below; the 19th April Bluesky timestamp is proof…

Were the Nuggets, Rockets, and Knicks to go on to win their respective series tie in the next couple days, that would leave our bracket accuracy attainment rate at a measly 3/8 correct guesses. That’s a laughable 37%. Achieved by guessing that OKC, the Cavaliers, and the Celtics would win their charitable trips to the Semis, no less—wow. Geniuses. What’s troublesome too here are two deadpan implications from these first ten days of Playoff action: our presumptive NBA Champions Lakers are already on their way to Cancún as of 1st May, and this year’s wishful Cinderella story—the unlikely thrusting of the living-breathing scaffolding Milwaukee Bucks all the way to the Eastern Conference Finals—well, ain’t happening either. Nostradamus would be proud of us.

When your biggest postseason’s brag is that you predicted that the defending NBA Champions Boston Celtics reach the Eastern Conference Finals again, you should definitely stay away from sports betting. Frankly, even a 100% correct bracket guesses should, but that’s a story for a different day. And yet, we really believe(d) in our earnest predictions when we first filled them out. Did we go out on a few limbs here and there, just for fun? Of course. Comment this post if you also had the Lakers making it all the way to raising the Larry O’Brien Championship Trophy this year. Or if you too were hopelessly optimistic that Damian Lillard’s miraculously unprecedented return from his blood clot issue would be the decisive X factor that could bring a somewhat disgraced franchise to unthinkable heights this season, only to capitulate in a seven-game series loss against the reigning champs.

Yes, they were both stretches, but not entirely unfounded. The Lakers won seven out of their ten final Regular Season games—including a marquee triumph against the top Western seed Thunders—and finished third with their best record in six years (50-32, .610 win percentage). Oh, and they low-key pulled off the biggest blockbuster NBA trade of this century, acquiring Slovenian superstar guard Luka Dončić in a multi-pawned deal that sent veteran center Anthony Davis to the Dallas Mavericks. Also, Austin Reaves was on a sensational ascent. And this might be LeBron James’s last season, so why wouldn’t he do everything in his power to tip it off with at least one last Finals appearance? It all kind of made sense.

Not dissimilarly, the Milwaukee Bucks wrapped up the Regular Season with eight straight wins, that arithmetically pulled them out of the Play-In relegation slump, and officially set them apart enough to lock in the official fifth seed vis-a-vis the unlikely All-American success story of the Detroit Pistons. Considering how brutally disappointingly the 2024/2025 season started for the Giannis Antetokounmpo-led franchise, there was a great deal of new wind in their sail that would have allowed us to fantasize about them at the very least making it past the fastidious Indiana Pacers in the First Round (yup, even we’d have to acknowledge that beating the Cavaliers four times out of seven was perhaps too prohibitive and likely not on the cards for this year…). So, about that Bucks-Pacers series…

On Tuesday 29th April, Tyrese Haliburton and co. officially took care of business by eliminating Milwaukee 4-1 in a frankly pretty one-sided best-of-seven series. Pacers in five. The game ended 119-118 in dramatic fashion in overtime, and while the Bucks would probably have deserved to win the game and force a game six back in Indianapolis after blowing multiple double-digit leads, it’s what transpired in the moments immediately following the final buzzer that took on a whole other life of its own. To recap the succession of events for the uninitiated—right after Indiana clinched the series, Tyrese Haliburton’s father John Haliburton, sitting courtside, entered the floor during the celebrations. He then walked up to a petrified Giannis Antetokounmpo and proceeded to wave a towel featuring his son’s face, before directing provocative remarks at the Greek Freak. Giannis then confronted John, leading to a brief but tense exchange before teammates intervened to dissuade the situation.

There is so much that can, has been, and will be written about the altercation. For starters, the public embarrassment expressed by Tyrese over his father’s actions, indicating in a postgame press conference that he had had a conversation with his father to address the situation while also planning to speak with Antetokounmpo at a separate time. Tyrese’s awkwardness was followed by John’s too, who took little time to issue a forced public apology on social media, acknowledging how his behavior did not reflect well on himself or his son. As if it were not enough, it’s news as of 1st May that after conversations with John Haliburton, the Indiana Pacers front office saw fit to ban Tyrese’s father from attending the team’s home and road games for the foreseeable future. And yet the teachable, noble moment here comes from the former NBA MVP and Champion himself. Let us unpack the complete answer Giannis gave during his own presser after the game, when asked to speak on the incident:

All I’ll say is that I believe in being humble in victory. That’s the way I am.

Now, there are a lot of people out there that can say, ‘No. When you win, you gotta talk shit. It’s a green light for you to be disrespectful towards somebody else. I disagree. I have won a championship. They haven’t. That doesn’t say anything. I’m not trying to minimize their effort, but I remember when I won, my mom, she’s never missed a game from February 11th or 13th when she came to Milwaukee against the Knicks, she’s never missed a game. When we won a championship, I remember my mom was scared to cross. She was like, ‘Am I allowed to come and hug my son?’

Except now my brother does media this year. He wants to come back and play, but like, except Thanasis, you’ve never seen my family sit in a courtside seat. This is not something that we do. We don’t. I try to keep my family away from the game.

But losing the game emotions run high. Having a fan, which at the moment I thought it was a fan, but then I realized it was Tyrese’s son, which I love Tyrese – I think he’s a great competitor – he was his dad, sorry.

Coming in the floor and, um, showing me his son a towel with his face. ‘This is what we do. This is what we f**king do. This is the f**k we do.’ I feel like that’s very, very disrespectful.

You know, my dad, my dad if you guys go and ask and learn my dad’s not with us no more. My dad used to come in the family room and was the most respectful person ever. You know when you come from nothing and you’ve worked your whole life to sell stuff in the street and your whole life you’ll be scared of the police of deporting you and sending you back to your country. You have to protect your kids with all means. You create this mentality of being humble your whole life.

To not kind of disrespect anybody, not make the tension high, the emotions high, so anybody can you know snitch on you, say something bad about you. So when he came here I remembered I was like, ‘Dad, why are you so humble? Why are you going to the family room? You don’t even say a word. You sit in the back. Why, why, why are you like that?’ ‘Don’t worry, don’t worry about it. Don’t worry.’ That’s how I grew up. That’s what I had around.

So when I see other dads, which don’t disrespect, maybe if my son play basketball, I might be in the court. I might be the one on the court and like 20 years later you can play this interview and say ‘Giannis, you’re contradicting yourself.’ But we’ll see in 20 years, but I’m talking about right now how I feel. You know having somebody’s that which I’m happy for him and I’m happy for his son and I’m happy that he’s happy for his son. That’s how you’re supposed to feel.

But coming to me and disrespecting me and cursing at me, I think it’s totally unacceptable – totally unacceptable. OK, and … I’m not the guy that points fingers because in my neighborhood snitches get stitches. So I don’t want to say something you know for him to say to get fined or anything, but it’s not respectful. I talk with him at the end and we huh, I think we’re in a good place.

For the record, John Haliburton’s social media handle is @PapaHaliburton. Please. Like, who does that? How much more obvious can the familiar vestibule guised as genuine grassroots support get? While it’s evident that the Haliburton-Antetokounmpo incident has sparked welcome discussions about appropriate conduct for family members and fans during professional sporting events—highlighting the importance of sportsmanship and respect—we claim no better metaphor could be realized to capture the modern day’s delusion of spoiled nepotist entitlement. The kind that involves parents as chief architects of it. And honestly, the Haliburtons embody so much of that. Incidentally, 25-year old guard Tyrese, a two-time NBA All-Star, just won the Most Overrated Player in the NBA award this year in a recent anonymous player poll by The Athletic, receiving 15% of the votes (ironically, good guy in this story Giannis Antetokounmpo finished tenth on the same list).

This story basically writes itself—Haliburton is a non-factor Olympic gold medalist, too. Last summer, he was drafted as part of Team USA’s men’s basketball roster at the 2024 Paris Olympics, where the selection managed to secure the highly coveted gold medal (all the while this season’s NBA Clutch Player of the Year, the New York Knicks’s Jalen Brunson, stayed home to record podcasts…). However, unsurprisingly, Haliburton’s on-court contributions were limited. He merely appeared in three of the six games, totaling 26 minutes—the fewest among all players on the roster. He did not step foot on the hardwood floor in either of the games past the group phase (the semifinal against Serbia and the gold medal game against France). Granted, he was a good sport about it all, tipping off the experience with legitimately funny humor on social media (posting ‘When you ain’t do nun on the group project and still get an A‘). But this also kind of makes sense. Doesn’t it?

Go back to Giannis’ integrity lesson for a second. Re-read it in full. This doesn’t all happen in a vacuum. John Haliburton doesn’t walk up to Giannis with hostility at the buzzer, before even hugging his own game-winning shooter son, had he and Tyrese not perfected the gold digging upwards mobility of ‘take your dad to work’ models. Heritage, respect, and sacrifice typically don’t fail people in moments of need. They don’t get washed away by ’emotions’. They either pre-exist, or they don’t. The Nigerian-Greek power forward is obviously one of the greatest basketball players of all time. Arguably the greatest and most incisive player of the last decade. Since his 2013 debut, the guy has been sporting a career average 24 points per game (accompanied by a 55% field goal percentage), with a peak 31.1 points-per-game registered during his 2022-2023 season. As he reminded the audience during the press conference, he is the one with NBA Championship and three MVP titles, not them. Still, Giannis’s most honorable achievement to date might just have come off the court. Yes, Giannis Antetokounmpo is a gentleman, and a damn good basketball player whilst at it.

We’d like to thank you sincerely for taking the time to read this and we hope to feel your interest again next time. Oh and yeah, we do root for the Knicks over here at EMS, but these Pistons man…

AV

DETROIT PISTONS: AMERICA’S TEAM | 2025-03-28

As of Friday 28th March, with less than ten games left in the 2024/2025 NBA Regular Season, the Detroit Pistons have officially established themselves as franchise basketball’s America’s Team. Michigan’s Motor City team currently sits as the fifth seed in the Eastern Conference, sporting a .562 winning percentage and an overall net record of 41 wins and 32 losses hitherto. Not only would this ranking translate in the Pistons clinching direct playoff access for the first time since 2019, but the existing match-up picture would see them face the certainly not-unbeatable Indiana Pacers in the first round. All of a sudden, the Eastern Conference Semifinals aren’t a pipedream anymore. Granted, there are another nine games left in the regular season—incidentally, tonight Detroit is slated to face the projected Eastern Conference champions and undisputed season revelation Cleveland Cavaliers, at home—and lots can still change between now and mid-April. Yet, their performance so far this season reflects a historic and unprecedented improvement, transforming the franchise from the league’s lowest-ranked team to unwavering playoff contenders.

As a refresher, it’s worth reminding that last year, during the 2023/2024 NBA Regular Season, the Pistons finished dead last with a measly league-worst record of 14 wins and 68 losses (.171 winning %). Two seasons ago, same thing—they closed off with 17 wins and 65 losses (.207 winning %). This year alone, the club has already tripled the amount of wins from last year, with another nine attempts to go. Earlier in February, they even recorded their longest winning streak (eight games) since the golden franchise era of the 2006/2007 season—and as of their 73rd game of the season, they improved their average points per game by 6 (up from 109 last year), their field goal percentage by more than 1% point (47.8% compared to 46.3%), and elevated their three-point field goal percentage by nearly 2% points (36.3% over last season’s 34.8%). And although their free-throw percentage is dipping slightly compared to twelve months ago (a current 77.6% vis-a-vis 78.5% in 2023/2024), they are tracking better stats than in previous years across the whole front and backcourt: steals per game, blocks per game, total rebounds per game, and assists per game.

What’s not to love obsessively about this? How can the country not root for them? For those needing more convincing; so far this season their effective field goal percentage (adjusted field goal % to better account for three-pointers) jumped from 52 to 55%, while their offensive rating—ergo, points scored per 100 possessions—improved by more than 5. Defensively, they are par for their reputational Bad Boys course again, having ameliorated their defensive rating (points conceded per 100 possessions) bringing it down from 118 last year to this season’s 111, not unlike their opponents effective field goal percentage, which has seen a near 2 percentage points drop from last year (decreases mean good, in the latter two cases). All from a team that has consistently finished in the bottom three of the Eastern Conference in the last five years, with a meager all time high of 23 wins in a single season (2021/2022). A proverbial all-American redemption tale if we’ve ever seen one.

From blowout red carpets, to serious Eastern Conference Semifinal contenders. From near laughing stock of the league, to top ten NBA team in rebounds per game and field goal percentage. All in less than twelve months. But what’s to thank for this remarkable transformation? Well, quite a bit. First and foremost, re-signing core talent during the offseason. Securing a contract extension with franchise cornerstone and legitimate Most Improved Player-candidate Cade Cunningham in July last year ensured dexterity, leadership, and continuity on the court. Secondly, placing a few strategic free agency acquisitions on the chessboard: scoring veteran forward Tobias Harris as well as signing sharpshooter and living-breathing mascot Malik Beasley provided offensive versatility and experience. Moreover, absorbing Tim Hardaway Jr via a trade with the Dallas Mavericks ensured consistent perimeter shooting and yet more veteran presence, further addressing the team’s need for reliable scoring options. Similarly, the recent addition of reigning FIBA World Champion and tournament MVP, Germany‘s Dennis Schröder, increased depth at the point guard position, dishing solid experience and facilitating mad ball handling movement.

The Michiganian franchise also showcased and proved their sharp ability to grow in-house talent and draft promising prospects. Sourcing small/power forward Ron Holland II as the 5th overall pick in the 2024 NBA Draft infused young incisiveness with significant potential into the roster, while the definitive explosion of young center Jalen Duren as well as evil twin Ausar Thompson as Swiss-army-knife small forward this year are other significant contributions to the team’s unlikely success this season. All this notwithstanding the fact that one of their most impactful players between October and December, former Purdue shooting guard Jaden Ivey, has been sidelined since 1st January after sustaining a season-ending injury in a nasty collision with Orlando Magic guard Cole Anthony. Last, but definitely not least, appointing former Cleveland Cavaliers head coach JB Bickerstaff to lead the team in the offseason—someone known for his effective communication and leadership skills—introduced a new strategic vision and leadership style, enriching the team’s improved impact. And although it’s harder to gauge, Trajan Langdon’s hire as the new President of Basketball Operations before last summer surely enhanced a front-office overhaul able to respond to a multi-year Playoff drought.

As Detroit Bad Boys reports, the Pistons will officially finish the season above .500 for the first time in a decade with just one additional win in their final nine games. While that win might not come tonight, against projected title contenders Cleveland Cavaliers, were they to eke out four more before the postseason, Detroit will go as far as securing their best regular season record since 2007-08. Not to mention the fact that so many of their wins happened in clutch time (final 5 minutes of the fourth quarter with a score differential of 5 or less). We haven’t checked this, but the Pistons have got to be a top five NBA team in terms of clutch games this year. What’s even more impressive, as the same article puts it, America’s team miraculous turnaround “is already among the biggest in NBA history. If Detroit wins just three more games [before the regular season ends], they will have the seventh-biggest jump in wins from one season to the next“. Before adding important context: “if you look at the top six turnarounds in NBA history, they are all built on major talent infusion and return from injury“.

We would be remiss not to finish off singing the Pistons praises by focusing on their best player, former NBA first overall pick in the 2021 NBA Draft Cade Cunningham. The 23-year old point guard was deservedly named an NBA All-Star for the first time this past February, and makes for a more than plausible All-NBA Second Team hopeful, when this season is in the books. The Texas native is basically a walking averaging double-double, with a current trading of 25.7 points, 9.2 assists and 6.1 rebounds a game. These numbers are up from 17, 19, and 22 points per game in his first three seasons, respectively. He’s already played more individual games than in any single season before (66), averaging 35 minutes a match up on a roster not exactly devoid of options and bench depth. He’s even managed to turn around his +/- ratio for the first time in his professional career, recording a net 2.7 points when he’s on the floor after three years in the minus. Plus the guy’s hella likable, plays with unique calm, collection, and poise, and makes it look like he’s having a lot of fun while at it. That, and so much more, is why the Detroit Pistons are America’s Team.

We’d like to thank you sincerely for taking the time to read this and we hope to feel your interest again next time.

AV

2025 IS REVIVAL SEASON | 2025-02-28

When it comes to spitting dexterity on the mic, one would be hard-pressed to name anyone with more natural lyrical prowess than Columbus, GA-native rapper Brandon ‘BEZ’ Evans (B Easy). One half of the recently minted experimental/electronic hip-hop duo Revival Season, jointly with beatmaker Jonah Swilley, the gifted wordsmith has been at the rap game for about a decade at this point. Sporting a five-project strong solo discography of his own—with 2023’s Trap Sabbath as the clear standout amongst it—the MC managed to turn industry heads in spades at the beginning of last year, as he and Swilley dropped the exceptional Golden Age of Self-Snitching.

Revival Season’s 14-track debut LP clocks in just shy of forty minutes of runtime, and it’s an all-killer no-filler exercise in alternative hip-hop, with several indebted nods to electronic, funk, and dub music. Handily one of the most exciting rap debuts in the first half of the 2020s decade, Golden Age of Self-Snitching introduced the erratic duo to the world by way of zany, catchy, and carefree rap cuts more akin to cypher-like streams of consciousness, than cohesive label concept tapes. Owing their creative footprint to Linkin Park, Kendrick Lamar, Fever 333, Black Thought, and Mach-Hommy all in equal measure, the record pierces through the listeners’ sonic membranes like the warm hug of an earwormy fire alarm sound.

The project was puzzle-pieced together entirely self-sufficiently, written both remotely and in person, and recorded in different makeshift locations—including a health centre and an ad-hoc setup in Swilley’s house. BEZ’s bars take your breath away, precisely because he is low-key delivering them breathless himself. Sample “Barry White” at number two on the tracklist, a joint that has the MC dish out one 16 after another like his literal life depended on it—not without subdued Kanye West hat tips (“penitentiary chances”, “Brandon”)—on top of what sounds like Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” iconic six-string lick. The grandiose and spacey “Message in a Bottle“, on the record’s same front-end, carries more unhinged Yeezy worship (peep the “ultralight beam” refrain), but mostly turns into what’s perhaps the most immediate and irresistible groove on the whole album.

By contrast, the feet-swinging and heavenly “Last Dance‘ at number five would stand the test of time as a Petri dish of how to finally get the exhilarating EDM/rap crossover right—in spite of all the many kitsch attempts out there. If you only source one tune off Self-Snitching, we implore you to make it this one. In a different vein, the following “Boomerang” brings all the funk to the fold, and then some. Whether intentional or not, BEZ’s delivery on the tune seems to harken back to an early BROCKHAMPTON-era Merlyn Wood flow. The defunct boy band’s influence is immeasurable and contains so many multitudes at this point, we wouldn’t be shocked to find out that some of its ethos might have bled into Jonah Swilley’s DAWs and record plates. In the same breath though, switch your ears and attention to “Propaganda“, and you’d be forgiven to think that you’re hearing Mach-Hommy spitball over a lost Bob Marley instrumental—all the while A$AP Rocky jabs loose ad-libs from the other side of the studio.

Yes, Revival Season is that left-field. Testing never seems to come at the expense of social consciousness or thematic poignancy, though. It’s evident that BEZ holds Philly’s finest The Roots’ Black Thought in the highest of regards, and nowhere is that inspiration more present than on the gorgeous penultimate track “Eyes Open“. Flat-out lead rap hit material. Speaking of which, Heavenly Recordings, the PIAS-distributed UK imprint earmarking Revival Season’s debut full length, must have struggled big time when combing through potential lead singles for this thing. As a matter of fact, none of those that ended up chosen as part of the official rollout in 2023 (“Chop“, “Everybody“, and “Pump“, featuring Shaheed Goodie on guest vocal duties), actually received any mention in this piece yet. Talk about an embarrassment of riches.

What I came up listening to turned out to be so pivotal. I was in Georgia during the time of Dungeon Family coming up, and that turned out to be a big shifting point in hip-hop. We heard a lot of this stuff before the world, the way of thinking, the way of dress, the movement, the sound, we were there for it… Prior to that the South was really gated out, and as time has progressed it’s become more of a dominant sound, where almost everything in the genre comes from that time period and the sound and the attitude that was built there. All that stuff was on the back of really strong principles, on the back of the home-cooked, country-fied, soulful background that was added into the hip-hop formula from the South.

So the spitter-in-chief, with respect to how the duo continues to forge its singular sound. Since dropping Golden Age of Self-Snitching in February of last year, the outfit has further kept pushing the envelope by teasing new music—presumably leading up to their next yet-to-be-announcet exploit. Last summer they released the deliciously addictive standalone single “Dim Sum“, and followed it up later in October with a collab joint co-signed by Japan-born, Los Angeles-based alternative rapper Shamon Cassette, titled “WHITE HOUSE BLACK“. Since then, the USA and the Western world have, well, changed materially for the worst in too many ways. Revival Season are hereby officially being summoned to return to the scene, continuing to strike while the iron (and the planet) is hot.

Yet, outside of a one-off show scheduled in Oregon this summer, little is known about the 2025 plans of self-ascribed “non-religious rap entity“. In times of slim pickings, we’d be remiss not to resort to the clue in the band’s own name. More than ever before, there is no time like the present to reanimate spirits, re-mobilize civic action, and reclaim human rights. If it’s true that the coming together of Brandon Evans and Jonah Swilley was a “a divine appointment … [f]oreseen by oracles and foretold by angels”, then such protracted Godsend intervention is of the utmost urgency. After all, it’s no secret that B Easy and his DJ were religiously moulded by Georgia׳s slew of Pentecostal churches—if Self-Snitching is the deliverance right out of the gate, we can’t imagine how good the New Testament is going to sound. 2025 has got to be Revival Season.

We’d like to thank you sincerely for taking the time to read this and we hope to feel your interest again next time.

AV

I USED TO BE IN TAKING BACK SUNDAY | 2025-01-24

This site started a decade ago because of Taking Back Sunday. For God’s sake, its name is literally a portmanteau of two songs off their 2009 studio LP New Again, “Everything Must Go” and “Swing“. As Mark O’Connell, the muscular longtime drummer of the band, announced his departure over ‘creative differences’ and a ‘lack of support’ earlier this month, it felt like a proper watershed moment for the Long Island outfit. Following the similarly unceremonious split from founding rhythm guitarist Eddie Reyes back in 2018, Mark’s quitting strikes as the kind of coup de grâce that would do in any mainstream group. That said, not only did Taking Back Sunday not yet comment on the fan-favorite stickman’s breaking news, but they instead doubled down by announcing a 2025 North American co-headlining tour with Coheed and Cambria in the ensuing days.

This turn of events leaves lead singer Adam Lazzara as the sole member having been present on every single major studio album since their seminal emo-rock debut Tell All Your Friends in 2002. Harkening back all the way to the band’s founding in 1999, a whooping eleven musicians have been in Taking Back Sunday in some official capacity at one point or another. And this excludes staple touring members such as Nathan Cogan—accompanying the band as live guitarist since 2010—as well as one Mitchell Register, who incidentally stepped in to sub Mark on percussions for most of last year’s live dates. Yet what’s worse than the New York alt rock veterans’ silence over O’Connell’s exit, are the looming slights and innuendos peppered throughout the drummer’s Instagram profile, leading to assume plenty of resentment and unfinished business toward the remaining members.

What’s more, Mark’s mention of the group’s lack of support on his journey to sobriety lurks back to similar sentiments expressed by Eddie Reyes in the years following his own departure, citing multiple times the need to step away from the band’s environment in order to stay true to teetotalism. A particular recent instance that comes to mind—and one that might’ve tipped the scale for Mark, considering he was still part of the official line up then—was Taking Back Sunday’s surprising partnership with whiskey manufacturer Three Chord Bourbon for a special edition blend just in time for the holidays. In truth, that was only the last of a recent spat of questionable business decisions the outfit had been making. It all started with that Steve Aoki collab and remix stunt a few years ago, followed by getting billed for a host of cringeworthy nostalgia-stricken festival appearances. Even the choice of mainstream pop vagabond Tushar Apte as executive producer for their latest eight studio LP 152 raised more than one eyebrow among the fanbase. Luckily, that bet pan out better than expected.

Another loaded and duplicitous move the band made recently was the decision to reunite with former cult lead guitarist Fred Mascherino for the first time in 17 years at their latest Holidays shows at Starland Ballroom, New Jersey. Obviously, speculation runs amok as to what such an olive branch might mean—and one’s to wonder whether it was another one that foreshadowed Mark’s decision to quit a couple weeks later. Mascherino notoriously split from the line-up in acidic terms back in 2007, while Taking Back Sunday was arguably at their peak mainstream fame, following the release of their Billboard-charting record Louder Now. As of this writing, no official announcements have been made by the TBS entourage to back such theory up; their line-up is presently being broadcast as only featuring Lazzara, lead guitarist John Nolan, and bassist Shaun Cooper. Yet, considering that the second guitarist spot has been vacant since the departure of Eddie Reyes—only made worse by the unjustifiable lack of promotion of Nathan Cogan as core member—bringing Mascherino back into the fold wouldn’t be so unthinkable anymore.

No more Mark O’Connell hurts, though. He was not only the longest running member of the band, but also one of its most important songwriting contributors. Often unsung and underrated, in spite of his indispensable role behind the drum kit, the 43-year old Long Island native was actually the author of some of the outfit’s most iconic opening guitar riffs, such as “Cute Without the E” and “This Is All Now“. It’s thus no surprise to learn that he wasted little time to announce his new solo venture—having released his hardcore punk debut single “Brain Dead” on New Year’s Eve, off a yet-to-be-announced project titled When I Grow Up. On it, the former TBS member appears to be playing every instrument and even lend vocal duties to tape—in a twist of creative fate that would make a young Dave Grohl extremely proud.

Mark appears to be serious in his new solo endeavor, too. He’s been spotted shopping around for label representation in recent days, and even seen recording new music with Reyes himself as part of a few Stories shared on Instagram. On top of the aforementioned “Brain Dead”, he’s also already shared either full recordings or teaser snippets of a number of additional records already in the can. These include one titled “Crazy“, “Follow the Money“, a not-so-veiled diss addressed to Taking Back Sunday frontman Adam Lazzara (…), a slower ballad called “Better“, as well as a catchy earworm dubbed “Same Old Story“. Withholding judgment on the inherent quality of these recordings, this feels like something Mark needs to do now, in order to work through the motions that leaving a successful rock and roll band after a quarter of a century entail. We’re here for it, and genuinely happy for him.

With regards to Taking Back Sunday, well this ain’t their or our first rodeo. Half a dozen different official band formations over the span of a little over twenty years are a lot to take in, but at the same time they have also provided for a consistently excellent and varied back-catalog. The assumption is that their recent deal with Fantasy Records—the Concord-distributed California imprint that issued their long-awaited 152 album after the dissolution of their previous agreement with Hopeless Records at the turn of the 2020s—might stipulate the fulfillment of multiple studio albums as part of its terms. However, if we’ve learned anything as fans of Lazzara and co. over the past couple decades, it’s that Taking Back Sunday is a pretty monolith band. When they tour, they just tour. When they meet up in the studio to write new material, they just write new material. Considering the previously mentioned time on the road in the USA starting this summer, it’s unlikely Adam, John, and Shaun can find the time to dish out something concrete in terms of new sound recordings before then. It’s not exactly smooth sailing over at the TBS camp right now.

As far as we’re concerned, the best we can hope is that regardless of whether it’s coming from Taking Back Sunday or Mark O’Connell, it’s the music that will do the talking. That’s what this rotating group of individuals has always done best. They and their management are most welcome to take all the time they need. Hell, we’d happily wait another eight years for their next release, if that meant that’s what’s right for the music. We’ll even go ahead and chalk that recent string of corny decisions up to the collective derangement brought about by the 2020 global pandemic. All is forgiven. The next time we’re writing about the whole entire reason this website even exists in the first place, it better be with some new tunes.

We’d like to thank you sincerely for taking the time to read this and we hope to feel your interest again next time.

AV

WE ARE KENDRICK LAMAR | 2024-11-30

Okay, then tell me the truth
Every individual is only a version of you
How can they forgive when there’s no forgiveness in your heart?

Kendrick Lamar Duckworth low-key stole Thanksgiving by surprise-releasing his highly-anticipated sixth studio album Grand National Experimental, GNX in short, halfway through the day on the Friday prior. Such an act of Congress evidently recalibrated the mainstream music discourse to its core, riding on the coattails of a momentously triumphant year-to-date for the 37-year-old Compton, CA native. Congruently to being unveiled without much fanfare, GNX is a relatively short and sticky musical affaire, considering the existing discography of the pgLang co-founder. Yet, its immediacy and appeal don’t come at the expense of its inherent messaging. One’s gotta dig though. It’s no spoon-feeding. What else did we expect, after all?

The opening salvo above, lifted from the LP’s pièce de résistance, “reincarnated“, which in turn tastefully and carefully flipped Tupac’s 1997 “Made N****z”, is a short sequence of bars that not only essentializes his creed, but goes as far as triaging one of the highest teaching from the Book of Kendrick (New Testament). In a late-stage capitalist climate that commodifies antagonism and seeks prize fighting, in a complete symbiosis with the rap game celebrating K.Dot as the undisputed heavyweight champion, he hits us with the softest, most passive-aggressive jab he can. After all, he’d already employed a whole double-album real estate to imperfectly sketch it all out raw for us, on Mr Morale & the Big Steppers.

By admitting that battling your competitors equals to battling yourself—not unlike Lacanian understandings of self-liberation perhaps best captured in mainstream through Fight Club—Kendrick exhumes a surprisingly inclusive message of universalism. Call it the law of our identity averaging those of the five people we spend most time with, chalk it up to affable Christianity; the cause here matters less than its effect. Here’s a tiny monition though: the former Top Dawg Entertainment recording artist can afford to seemingly contradict himself precisely because he’s the winner, not in spite of it. The implicit equity of a king admitting the peoples into the castle and telling them they’re all the same is outright superior to that of a moribund going out in spiritual style.

GNX is about agency and structure. It’s both an albatross and its excommunication. “wacced up murals” is its best tune, “squabble up” and “tv off” easily the funnest and stickiest, “heart pt. 6” perhaps the most gorgeous; yet if you only intend to press play on one of the cuts on this thing, make it “reincarnated”. It’s the study notes to Kung Fu Kenny’s whole entire career message. In our hyper-normalized, globalized, mediated landscape, most people can sure use shortcuts. The 2018 Pulitzer Prize for Music winner stands as a symptom, as a reaction to the erratic world, the one agent purported to help dismantle its structuralism. We all know panaceas are not known for being pretty. They’re far from unblemished.

On that note, what a distinctive and subtle way to silence detractors, hypocritically pointing at the inherent contradictions of parts of his gospel reconciling with Kodak Black and Dody6 features, as well as Dr. Dre mentorships. Desertion from pretentious yuppie outlets abound—he who is without sin cast the first stone, anyone? Jealousy is presumably a big one, too. With some internalized racism sprinkled on top, just for good measure. How is any pundit to keep a straight face lamenting GNX‘s self-esteem as ghastly, while Post Malone and Taylor Swift win their umpteenth meaningless award? As fellow contemporary heavyweight crown contenders resort to puffy and sterilized exculpatory devices, Kendrick Lamar lays it all out bare.

The very notion of reincarnation comes up several times within the latest batch of Lamar oeuvre. It features in the creative powering through the literal half-hour of promotion before GNX dropped on the 22nd November—mind you, on a snippet for a record that didn’t even make the final cut on the official tracklist. It’s of course the titular theme on the aforementioned standout, but it’s also mentioned prominently on the “squabble up” bop. The Los Angeles rapper spends the whole of track number six dishing out the inevitability of death and rebirth (one could canvas this as “soul pt. 6”, to reference its heart-centric companion on the album’s back-end). The transformative cycle of life as the only trustworthy upcycling process—devoid of specific allegiances to preconceived cloths, in spite of its biblical references (“You fell out of Heaven ’cause you was anxious / Didn’t like authority, only searched to be heinous / Isaiah fourteen was the only thing that was prevalent / My greatest music director was you“).

What the former Black Hippy ringleader is telling us is that he contains multitudes, which in turn include a part of all of us (who here remembers the ‘I Am. All of us.’ from “The Heart Part 5“?). The good thing is that we are a version of him, too. I could tell you where I’m going / I could tell you who you are. Although it’s clearly him who’s at the steering wheel of our daily journaling 1987 Buick GNX, there’s plenty of room for all of us to ride shotgun. On two Kendrick world conditions; one, that shall remain the sole reference to weapons throughout. Two, he’s condignly in charge.

We’d like to thank you sincerely for taking the time to read this and we hope to feel your interest again next time.

AV

IF YOUNG METRO DO TRUST YOU | 2023-08-11

Metro Boomin might just have churned out the best long-form hip-hop listening experience of 2023. No hyperbole. Thirteen individual cuts, spread across 47 minutes of impactful, unbridled, and envelope-pushing music—all without hinging on tired or predictable recruits such as Drake, The Kid LAROY, or Post Malone. Now a little over two months old, his Across the Spider-Verse (Soundtrack from and Inspired by the Motion Picture) radiates as such a convincing body of work that no other major drop has seemingly been able to top it hitherto (even though Travis Scott’s UTOPIA, albeit irreconcilably different, gets scarily close). Dare we say it, with this compilation, the American record producer, executive, and DJ has sequenced the most accomplished popular soundtrack since arguably Black Panther (2018). But then, he’s so plugged into the cultural zeitgeist that one would be hard-pressed to think of someone better suited to score the marvelous adventures of Miles Morales, constituent of all the righteous values and virtues they emanate.

Sonically, the tight collection of tracks offers both an aptly gelled and unified listening experience, as well as radio-friendly heavy rotation potential from nearly all numbers tracklisted. Believe it or not, this thing weaves one sticky, swaggerish, and memorable exploit after another; all without sacrificing artistic bravery and stylistic exploration (one shouldn’t forget this thing is supposed to be attached to a ginormous Hollywood blockbuster). Modern trap, conscious hip-hop, alt-R&B, neo-soul, and flat out bubblegum pop; they are all welcome and at home here. Even when at times the score dances with devilish accusations of getting phoned in formulaic and a tad one-dimensional—such as on “Danger” or “Silk and Cologne“—enough perspective and a particular appreciation for the motion picture are quick to dissipate such affronts. That is, for instance those two songs might work less efficiently as standalone singles, yet in the context of the whole album they sound just as indispensable and necessary as the other eleven.

Not to mention the deeper cuts on here. Through his flavorsome and balanced taste making on moments such as the exquisite slice of high brow alt pop on the James Blake-assisted “Hummingbird“, the forlorn standout “Calling“, or even the tenderly sweet Coi Leray vocal flex “Self Love“, the 29-year old Missourian sculpted an acoustic stream of consciousness more akin to, say, Frank Ocean‘s Blonde, than the first Various Artists-downgraded Into the Spider-Verse OST. And to think that for reasons allegedly unknown (yet just as easily guessed), the Boominati Worldwide founder had to do without the inclusion of poppy wind in sail of Dominic Fike‘s “Mona Lisa“—released this past 2nd June as lead single for the whole multimedia Across the Spider-Verse venture. Granted, the track was reportedly always set to only be thrown onto the compilation’s deluxe edition. Yet with the benefit of twenty-twenty hindsight, Metro’s herculean creative effort transpired as more focused and zero’ed in without it.

Speaking of deluxe editions, the record’s Disc 2 counts five additional tracks. They are all well and fun, but frankly, do nothing but further prove and solidify Young Metro’s editing capaciousness as an on-demand executive producer. Mind you, none of the bonus joints are bad in and of themselves—they’re all perfectly decent and enjoyable while they’re on. However, the thirteen minutes of extra material are of a cutting room floor affectation for a reason, and did not make the main tracklist’s cut for evident causes. That is not to say that they don’t possess virtues: “Ansiedades” beautifully elevates the dreamy pipes of Puerto Rican singer Mora, potentially introducing him to a limitless audience. With that being said, aside from showcasing the St Louis native’s knack for musical experimentation, the bottom line is that their clubby, vibe-based, electronic prevalence would’ve caused them to stick out like sore thumbs—cases in point, “Take It To The Top” and “Infamous“. That’s a shame and pity a savvy and tasteful curator such as Metro could not have allowed.

Lest we all forget, the Republic Records-earmarked Across the Spider-Verse (Soundtrack from and Inspired by the Motion Picture) stands as mainstream companion piece to the more canonical incidental tunes released under Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (Original Score), orchestrated and arranged by English composer Daniel Pemberton. For once, the Universal Music Group’s USA imprint should get its due flowers for the formidable environmental enablement they were able to grant Metro and his ambitious multi-licensing roster vision. As many as sixteen official featured performing acts in total are present on display credit-level here. They range from budding new guard picks like Roisee, EI8HT, and Coi Larey, and journey all the way to bona fide elder rap statesmen such as  A$AP Rocky, Future, and Lil Wayne. Oh, and did we mention managing to enlist critical swan song co-sign from none other than genre GOAT Nas?

Not unlike some of the key constituencies of African philosophy Ubuntu, with integrity, responsibility, empathy, and focus, Coach Metro has mastered a call up of a winning sample of carefully functional picks. His team tactics surgically constructed a court tapestry mastering both defense and offense, both below-the-rim paint points and long-range triples. If the earned trust from such a stacked A-list line up—as well as that he placed on them—does not go to prove that the producer born Leland Tyler Wayne doesn’t have the clout and creative vision to claim a marquee seat at the hip-hop conversation table, then virtually nothing else will. As the genre celebrates half a century of cultural impact, appropriations, and misunderstandings on this very day, its spiritual founders and forefathers can take a wealth of comfort from the notion that its future-proofing keys are in safe and capable hands. Now go watch the film. Then re-watch it. More importantly, listen to Young Metro’s synchronized masterpiece, we might need to await another five years for such a good movie soundtrack.

We’d like to thank you sincerely for taking the time to read this and we hope to feel your interest again next time. And happy birthday to hip-hop this time around.

AV

DOMINIC IS FINE | 2023-07-10

Dominic Fike is fine. He is fine with being back in his hometown of Naples, FL, after Hollywood didn’t need a reason to make him think he looked bigger than he was. He is fine with not pretending his newest album Sunburn isn’t anything other than a scattered collection of old loose tracks. He is fine with having made it out of the dirt, the hardship, and the struggle—rags to riches, felony conviction included. He is fine with survival’s guilt. Where Kendrick Lamar famously pained himself to explain “How Much a Dollar Cost“, Fike’s rebuttal stops at the otherworldly hive mind of “How Much Is Weed?“. He is fine with being a prodigal lonewolf amidst a tragically golden generation—he’s fine even with BROCKHAMPTON being no more.

Proudly and defiantly an anti-concept album, Sunburn is the 27-year old American singer-songwriter and actor’s second major label project, after instigating a cut through bidding war amongst several record companies from behind the cold confines of his penitentiary cell during the latter end of the last decade—with Columbia Records emerging victorious in 2018. So unlike his 2020 genre-mashing debut What Could Possibly Go Wrong, his latest is a warm, fun, and summer-winking compilation of disparate material, stemming from pretty much the same writing sessions as its predecessor. The lightness and effortlessness with which Fike almost dismisses his current excitement amidst Sunburn‘s promotional run, is refreshing at the very least.

Counterintuitively, that is part of what makes this beach mixtape so good. While some might still file it as a byproduct of cool cold-bloodedness, the former SoundCloud rap sensation’s indifference toward stoking fabricated enthusiasm by over-marketing the 15-cut LP actually makes way for the music to speak for itself. It’s not like one could forcibly blame Dominic, either. Almost every record on the Jim-E Stack-assisted sophomore outing dates back to about three years ago. At least a few of them have been floating around the deep Fike lore and ether since 2021, in either live or teaser form. And to think that the eclectic and sticky third lead single “Mona Lisa” wasn’t even written with the album in mind (initially previewing as OST crown jewel as part of Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse).

There’s an evident sense of appeasement and resolve in watching the former jailbird and victim of class feudalism speak and carry himself today—frankly, that’s something all of us can count as a dub. Fike exhumes a kind of seasonality and weariness that betrays both his young age and spotless babyface, one that only someone whose adolescence was stripped away by crime, addiction, and poverty-stricken milieus could possibly sport. Much like so many other burdened by similar disenfranchisement, Dominic turned to music for salvation. Owing to such a coping mechanism, he’s now proudly and nonchalantly wearing some of those late Nineties/early Noughties creative influences on his tattooed sleeves.

Thusly, it shouldn’t come as a blistering surprise that tasteful and breezy “Think Fast” at number three on the record sees a loud and loaded co-sign from none other than Weezer‘s Rivers Cuomo—with a true blue interpolation of the Los Angeles pop punk giants’ “Undone — The Sweater Song“, no less. Or that the elusive and catchiest number on Sunburn, “Frisky“, somehow succeeds at pouring out evident echoes of early 00s Black Eyed Peas mixed with Red Hot Chili Peppers. Meanwhile, the overrated and overproduced sensual pop of Justin Timberlake is an undeniable inspiration on “Bodies” halfway through the mixtape. Yet again, fourth lead single teasing the full release “Mama’s Boy” betrays ephemeral Strokes fingerprints all over its instrumental canvas. Get the point?

Dominic Fike is fine with staying true to himself, and not cracking under the ostracizing major label pressure of unnecessarily sugarcoating something that for him, truly, is passé. He is fine with some of his stans’ para-social behavior, stretching as far as digging up a whole other album‘s worth of unreleased material online. He is fine with understanding the subtle and nuanced specifics of latter day capitalism’s diminishing returns, letting the spate of irresistible hooks on the title track and “Dark” speak on his behalf instead. He is fine with reverting home and providing for his mother and siblings, now that he’s a multi-millionaire with a lot more music in the can. Music he’s actually psyched to talk about.

Perhaps Fike’s most telling and poetic middle finger to retrograde major circuit antics has got to be the way he (mis)handled the inclusion of groovy funk-rap standout “Mona Lisa” into Sunburn. Originally released as a standalone single attached to the theatric release of the eponymous blockbuster movie in early June, the cut was also naturally made available as part of the deluxe version of Metro Boomin’s watertight Presents Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse soundtrack album. At least this was the case for about a month. That is, on release day (7th July), the number inexplicably disappeared from Metro Boomin’s OST tracklist (although astute bloodhounds might still dig up idle versions with it on Spotify), only to mysteriously pop up on the 15-track version of Fike’s latest LP again—notably missing from his original 14-track issue.

While adding, removing, and switching individual tracks around on varying iterations of album sequences is nothing new per se in the modern streaming age, alas, one can’t but smile in schadenfreude at the thought of spree of Columbia record executives’ headaches and the wealth of eyebrows raised as Fike urged them to reinstate the track on his own solo project—probably invoking some right of first refusal last minute. One that scrambled lawyers had to hastily retrofit amidst consulting and negotiating with a plethora of sub labels, all contracted by Spider-Man soundtrack’s curator Republic Records. And we all know Sony Music Entertainment (Columbia) and Universal Music Group (Republic) aren’t exactly best friends. Yeah well, Dominic Fike is fine with all of that.

We’d like to thank you sincerely for taking the time to read this and we hope to feel your interest again next time.

AV

(WHAT’S THE ALBUM) MORNING GLORY? | 2023-04-09

As if ruled by near Swiss clockwork precision, 48-year old singer/songwriter Ryan Adams once again made good on his unwritten pledge to dish out yet another collection of new music on average about every third month. This time earmarked by his ninth project containing previously unreleased material since December 2020 — tenth, if considering his mid-March Return to Carnegie Hall EP — the alt-folk heavyweight re-ascends into the global ether by way of a full rework of brit-pop giants Oasis‘s (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? Offered once more as a download giveaway to newsletter subscribers via his PaxAm label hub, and already slated for a subsequent full blown release on licensed services, the reimagined batch appears as a double-sided 14-cut reinterpretation of the original 1995 rock classic.

Thus wrapping up a wholly uncalled for, yet overall more than gratifying, trilogy of covers, Adams’s Morning Glory follows in the wake of his own personal takes on two other cornerstones of modern folk rock: Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks and Springsteen‘s Nebraska — originally unveiled on last Christmas day, and at the beginning of December, respectively. This latest exploit is handily the most daring and wildest set of liberties the North Carolinian seized as part of the unofficial cover series yet. From the re-sequenced tracklist, the upgrade of as many as four lead single B-sides (“Talk Tonight“, “Headshrinker“, “Acquiesce“, and “Rocking Chair“), to the almost complete de-electrification of the instrumental canvas, Morning Glory sees a worshipping scholar affording himself just enough envelope-pushing inertia to both celebrate and advance the work of art at once.

In-between such heaps of legendary recordings rearrangements, the PaxAm founder also found time to announce to the world that he had gotten his old revered Cardinals band back together earlier in March — aligning the newsflash with the release of their stern piano-led comeback single “Dreams of the Working Class“. In the same breath, he also squeezed in the dispatch of a forthcoming gargantuan US Coast-to-Coast tour accompanied by the band. Their time on the road starts next month and will keep a newly redrafted lineup, inclusive of Brad Pemberton on percussions, Chris Stills on guitars, Daniel Clarke on keys, and A-list record executive moonlighting as bassist Don Was, occupied traveling across America through mid October.

Meanwhile, as he’s wrapping up the final European leg of his year-long solo acoustic run, the former Whiskeytown ringleader made sure to cue up the drop of Morning Glory with his physical arrival in ole Blighty, just before Easter. In great British catholic spirit, he also saw fit to stitch a revised and regionally fitting front cover on the record, tributing folklore Mancunian TV soap opera Coronation Street (see below), aside from of course indulging in the deconsecrated exercise of resuscitating the seminal collection of songs on the margins of Christianity’s parallel antic a few days later.

To humour the analysis a smidge deeper, it’s interesting and perhaps not coincidental to constatate how Adams plucked one cornerstone album for each different decade leading up to the new millennium. Albeit not churned out strictly chronologically, Blood on the Tracks (1975), Nebraska (1982), and now Morning Glory (1995) can all serve as auxiliary stepping stones on a roadmap that charts the impact and influence of watershed rock albums on both the wider cultural zeitgeist, and on Adams himself. Bearing witness to his increasingly exuberant rendering of these musical staples as part of the incubatory artistic heritage that moulded him is to watch a musician having more and more fun doing it (something discussed as early as in the first cover series instalment). It’s a touch tired and microwaved posit, but the key here is in the process, rather than the output.

Progressing from the unassuming and somewhat dejected pound-for-pound rendition of The Boss‘s ten tracker — with only minor compositional personalisations and musical derivatives — to then alight at the braver and aesthetically bolder instrumental coda choices laced into Dylan’s fifteenth studio LP, the Jacksonville, NC-native seems to have come full circle with the Gallagher bros’ magnum opus. By his own admission, this latest two-sided reverb and delay-effected affair stands to pull the curtains on his interpreter phase — at least for a while — an assertion that lends a heightened sense of closure over what some Oasis purists might brush off as iconoclast creative choices on Morning Glory.

With the sole exception of the record’s opener (“Hello“) and closer (“Champagne Supernova“), every single other number on Adams’s Morning Glory is completely refactored and repositioned compared to its reference LP, fundamentally forging a whole different album listening experience—not to mention the seemingly untouchable tracklist contamination through the inclusion of almost 30% of cutting room floor material. So the project is now fourteen cuts long, spanning an hour and five minutes of runtime, as opposed to the brit-pop chart-toppers’ 50 minutes and de facto only ten songs (sans the two “Swamp Song” skits). Parochial absolutists of the Manchester prodigal sons couldn’t necessarily be faulted for being up in arms at the mere thought of it.

This not only warrants the inquiry of whether Adams’s Morning Glory can even be considered a covers album of (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? in the first place, but it also refracts a whole new beam of light on what is, perhaps notoriously, the Cardinals frontman’s biggest and most successful track to date: his 2004 Love Is Hell cover of Oasis’s “Wonderwall“. Then smartly and tastefully stripped back to a thin acoustic backbone and drenched in reverb compared to the reference track, his 2023 version is, well, even more stripped back to a thin acoustic backbone, and even more drenched in reverb.

Right from the inaugural announcement that he was working toward his own take on the Manchester heroes’ second studio album last year, the question arousing the single largest amount of curiosity amongst his listenership was, understandably, how he would’ve re-dressed one of the most popular songs of all time. Once again. By sticking to the tried and trued guns of his first groundbreaking recitation, one can’t but feel like he not only missed a brilliant opportunity to breathe new life into what’s almost become a laughing stock within his formidable catalogue, but it also raises a whole slew of questions over how enslaved by that 2004 version he’s become. Almost to the point of feeling pressured to build a whole cover album around it.

In his concluding defence, Adams did introduce his Morning Glory as “[w]eirdly like LOVE IS HELL had a brother from another mother maybe”. Definitely Maybe: with twenty-twenty hindsight, chances are that covering the Oasis debut could have made for a fairer choice to both him and the music.

We’d like to thank you sincerely for taking the time to read this and we hope to feel your interest again next time.

AV

GETTING AWAY WITH MURDER: RYAN’S BLOOD ON THE TRACKS | 2023-01-16

As if attempting to take a stab at reimagining your reported ‘favorite album of all time’ would not be intimidating enough, restless and prolific singer/songwriter Ryan Adams chose to indulge in the challenge while playing in God mode. Shortly after delving into the hounds of rust belt hell via his recent unsolicited interpretation of Bruce Springsteen’s marquee project Nebraska, the 48-year old poet and musician this time saw fit to up the storied and timeless ante by borrowing from his ‘favorite songwriter of all time and spirit animal’ Bob Dylan. Reinventing the Nobel Prize winner’s iconic fifteenth studio album Blood on the Tracks, Adams’s own version of the 10-track LP appeared as yet another free digital download on his PaxAm label on Christmas’s Eve—a festive offering of sorts.

In his defense, the former Whiskeytown founder self-exculpated the covers album release by pleading ‘sacrilege’ over the stint, yet rebutting how he would be ‘doing it anyway’, prefacing how ‘it’s important to stay on your toes, and frankly after this beautiful year of climbing this mountain again my body is broken but my mind is pacing the floors… so it’s time to get busy.’ Lest people forget, Blood on the Tracks was the seven-time Grammy Award nominee’s sixth studio project unveiled during the course of the 2022 calendar year (adding to Chris, Romeo & Juliet, FM, Devolver, and the aforementioned Nebraska), annihilating previous personal and industry records at once.

Taking Adams’s recent DIY, self-released, and up-for-it ethos into account, the musical heresy was bound to be naturally deconsecrated. A somewhat reduced—and contextually enforced—instrumental backline underscores his rendition of the folk rock pièce de résistance, while slyly walking a thin tightrope between homage and re-appropriation as far as the performance committed to tape is concerned. Most crucially, his PaxAm re-issue adds a whooping extra twenty minutes of runtime to Dylan’s more contained 52, accrued by virtue of more or less extensive instrumental codas tacked on to cuts such as “Simple Twist of Fate”, “You’re a Big Girl Now”, as well as project bookends “Shelter from the Storm” and “Buckets of Rain”.

While adding more than a third of previously inexistent material to a work of art universally considered flawless might sound like a non-starter to purists, such musical fat on this thing is easily cut, and never in the way of the essential message conveyance on this update. Lending the Ryan Adams treatment to such legendary and to a certain extent untouchable recordings also meant demystifying what for many—through little fault of their on, mind yo—is a fourth-wall relationship to these American classics. For Adams neither modernizes nor museum-ifies these vignettes. He just merely performs them. That’s a straight A for making the effort alone.

As recently argued within the context and realm of him gifting Nebraska to the world—another unattainable record if there ever was another one—the Jacksonville, NC-native is bound to his spurs of creativity much like a scissor to its two arms. Blood on the Tracks was apparently arranged, rehearsed, and recorded all whilst fighting post-tour blues this past December, following his most recent US fall/winter live leg. If one can pass us the analogy; nobody would bat an eye if your favorite <insert here> basketball player hit the court for a couple free throws the day after the big match—like it or not, much like any professional athlete of record would do in their line of sports, Ryan Adams poured his blood, sweat, and tears on these tracks.

In the same breath, even a cursory scan of some of the verses and stanzas echoing loud almost fifty years after they were initially written, could almost have one wonder whether they were just chucked down by latter-day Adams himself. Take the brilliant and malignant opening batch from “Idiot Wind”: “Someone’s got it in for me / They’re planting stories about in the press / Whoever it is I wish they’d cut it out quick / But when they will I can only guess“—one can’t but picture the alt-country minstrel double checking his notes on whether it’s really a cover he’s recording. Elsewhere, the poignancy and earnestness with which they’re delivered make the following sets of words from the penultimate cut sound and read just like they originally came from Adams’ pen: Suddenly I turned around / And she was standing there / With silver bracelets on her wrists / And flowers in her hair / She walked up to me so gracefully / And took my crown of thorns / “Come in,” she said, “I’ll give ya / Shelter from the storm”.

Admittedly a tad too late, but here’s a fat disclaimer: much like with Springsteen’s Nebraska, on Blood on the Tracks liberties were taken. Verses were cut, song tempos were altered, solos and instrumental interludes were added and removed, cover arts were reimagined (see below). It notwithstanding, the creative process’s resin extrapolated from the source leaves us with a watertight opening quartet of tunes, making up what’s Adams’s most focused, original, and accessible portion on the whole project. By contrast, the midsection gets a little rougher around its edges, and frequently risks to trail off on a number already patience-demanding such as “Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts”, potentially causing some listeners to throw in the towel halfway through.

The two-pronged ending is worth sticking around for, though. Adams’s “Shelter from the Storm” becomes a sweet little groovy acoustic serenade with lots to write home about. From its soft and tender instrumentation, to the former Cardinal’s reassuring intonation and diction, the cut gently skids through its four minutes and change before giving way to an impromptu six-minute instrumental coda that, unlike some of the earlier ones on the record, ends up sticking its tasteful and gratifying landing in spite of a few lick blemishes here and there. The exploit pulls its curtains scored by the eleven-minute sonic odyssey of “Buckets of Rain”, a frizzy and buoyant outro that cues up another six-string fade out before morphing into a blistering cold droney outflow—a callous reminder that by staying true to his unrestrained self, Ryan Adams managed to do away with any musical apprehension for the salacious crime he committed.

We’d like to thank you sincerely for taking the time to read this and we hope to feel your interest again next time.

AV

RYAN’S REASON TO BELIEVE | 2022-12-12

On Wednesday 7th of December, alt-country singer/songwriter Ryan Adams did the unthinkable only a few years ago and gave away a full front-to-back rendition of Bruce Springsteen‘s revered 1982 classic Nebraska, making this collection of covers his fifth official studio album release in the current solar year. While rewriting musical history by way of re-dressing a set of original songs via his trademark guises is nothing inherently new for the PaxAm label owner—he successfully and fiercely charted said territory the first time eight years ago with Taylor Swift’s 1989—issuing five distinct projects in less than seven calendar months is something unparalleled and unprecedented even for a prolific author such as himself. Yet don’t get it twisted; less than standing as desperate industrious attempts at morphing into the present day media landscape’s content output expectations, the 10-track ode to one of Adams’s most evident influences is but an expression of endurance.

Progress through action and creation—the form and pacing of the 48-year old Jacksonville, NC-native’s musical portfolio growth of late can’t pretend it’s hiding behind a necessity of unabashed fast-forwardness. This might be where the rubber meets the road: since his comeback unplugged oeuvre Wednesdays in December 2020, the former Whiskeytowner has released seven LPs. That’s a number as big as his worshipped feline household companion’s purported lives, for comparison’s sake. While it’s true that the buck has to stop somewhere, if there is anything that the past twelve months have taught legions of DRA disciples, is that a storyteller as gifted and impervious as Ryan Adams can only survive as a relentless musical empresario. So much for having additional out-of-the-box records in the can, ready to be unveiled in 2022 as originally announced in the lead up to his summer album FM.

Truly and honestly, we can’t say he did not warn us. There were a slew of presages worked into this past years’ tea leaves pointing to some resemblance of boundless creative manifestation, acting as some sort of be-all and end-all for the heartland rocker. A higher faith of sorts to devote one’s self to. With the benefit of twenty-twenty hindsight, one could easily point at his recurrent generous live impromptu sessions on Instagram, the engrossing runtimes and setlists of his more recent three-hour long solo acoustic shows, or even the trickery surrounding an alternate Boss-indebted sleeve for his inaugural trilogy album Wednesdays, as self-evident clues leading to something akin to the gesamtkunstwerk of studio debauchery and stern live renditioning that his own personal interpretation of Nebraska panned out to be.

What matters though is the substance, the artistic elixir; not the format. Nebraska is his second free digital download gift to fans in quick succession, following rapidly on the heels of the brilliant and neat Devolver. With it, DRA seems to self-fulfil the reassurance that he can rest on the grounded belief that effortless creative sprawls are there for him to be captured and channelled outwardly. Whether they translate into industry ruffian studio albums or self-recorded giveaways, matters only peripherally (and to those troubled enough to care). The whole point of being Ryan Adams is to be afforded the creative and marketing license to retain the unfiltered, untamed, and unedited impetus that always accompanied him along his near thirty years worth of discography—irrespective of whether that’s true blue country on Jacksonville City Nights, heartland rock on his self-titled, or heavy metal on Orion.

Nebraska, much like say Devolver, the PaxAm Single Series, or his more recent Instagram live sessions, speaks of the auteur working out, attending his regular gym sesh. In a not too dissimilar fashion to the source material creator’s modus operandi—who in his Born to Run memoir revealed how his songwriting prowess was shaped more by method and consistency than bursts of uncalled for inspiration—Ryan Adams can’t not write and put out music. So why not wholly condoning his embrace of such an un-produced urge by way of leveraging his modern day freedom from contractual or material constraints to opt into a ‘the more the merrier’ ethos? Lest we misunderstand, the approach is additive, not discrete.

While we all eagerly await Bruce to unearth his own lost drum-loop based synth-washed album, let this project carry us in a similarly unassuming yet stark fashion, all the while musing over what Springsteen’s artistic trajectory could have been in the 90s, if only. Safe to say, most of us will take this over any other disingenuous boomer bait any day of the week. How could we not: this is Ryan’s early Christmas present. Most of us will eventually come around to pardon and appreciate what’s arguably the most prolific songwriter of his generation for speeding up “Atlantic City“, chopping and screwing “Johnny 99“, or going full analogue live take on the final three cuts on his version of Nebraska—for most of us have understood that we can’t have Heartbreak-era Ryan Adams, if we can’t accept post-2020 Ryan Adams.

We’d like to thank you sincerely for taking the time to read this and we hope to feel your interest again next time.

AV