The core idea of trunk-or-treats is a good one—communities coming together to treat children to candy, which they have to go around and collect—but I think there can be some improvements to make such an event even better. First, why cars? It occurs to me now that you could give candy out from anywhere. You could even give candy out from your own home! Maximum convenience for the adults who are trying to get the candy into the kids' hands. Second, why so close together? Kids have boundless energy, let's make 'em work a little more. Let's have them walk house to house! That way it won't be as crowded. If you pack everyone into a closed parking lot, like we usually do, it gets a little claustrophobic, but imagine how fun it would be to spread our across the entire neighborhood! Third, why charge? If we make each house responsible for their own candy to give out, we can just make it a free event for everybody! Walk around your neighborhood if you want, give out candy if you want, let the kids free on the streets to have fun for no charge! Wouldn't that be a great trunk-or-treat? Imagine if we could pull this off? I don't know if it's doable, but I want to try it this year. A trunk-or-treat, but houses instead of cars, and throughout the whole neighborhood instead of one parking lot, and totally free and voluntary. Think anyone would go for it? And what would we name such a thing?
Puke on Your Birthday
Lord of darkness, king of light, come, come, come here on this stormy night.
Sunday, October 25, 2026
In My Place 297
October 24, 2026. 40.07676, -75.08082. See the updated map here. See all the blog posts here.
The core idea of trunk-or-treats is a good one—communities coming together to treat children to candy, which they have to go around and collect—but I think there can be some improvements to make such an event even better. First, why cars? It occurs to me now that you could give candy out from anywhere. You could even give candy out from your own home! Maximum convenience for the adults who are trying to get the candy into the kids' hands. Second, why so close together? Kids have boundless energy, let's make 'em work a little more. Let's have them walk house to house! That way it won't be as crowded. If you pack everyone into a closed parking lot, like we usually do, it gets a little claustrophobic, but imagine how fun it would be to spread our across the entire neighborhood! Third, why charge? If we make each house responsible for their own candy to give out, we can just make it a free event for everybody! Walk around your neighborhood if you want, give out candy if you want, let the kids free on the streets to have fun for no charge! Wouldn't that be a great trunk-or-treat? Imagine if we could pull this off? I don't know if it's doable, but I want to try it this year. A trunk-or-treat, but houses instead of cars, and throughout the whole neighborhood instead of one parking lot, and totally free and voluntary. Think anyone would go for it? And what would we name such a thing?
The core idea of trunk-or-treats is a good one—communities coming together to treat children to candy, which they have to go around and collect—but I think there can be some improvements to make such an event even better. First, why cars? It occurs to me now that you could give candy out from anywhere. You could even give candy out from your own home! Maximum convenience for the adults who are trying to get the candy into the kids' hands. Second, why so close together? Kids have boundless energy, let's make 'em work a little more. Let's have them walk house to house! That way it won't be as crowded. If you pack everyone into a closed parking lot, like we usually do, it gets a little claustrophobic, but imagine how fun it would be to spread our across the entire neighborhood! Third, why charge? If we make each house responsible for their own candy to give out, we can just make it a free event for everybody! Walk around your neighborhood if you want, give out candy if you want, let the kids free on the streets to have fun for no charge! Wouldn't that be a great trunk-or-treat? Imagine if we could pull this off? I don't know if it's doable, but I want to try it this year. A trunk-or-treat, but houses instead of cars, and throughout the whole neighborhood instead of one parking lot, and totally free and voluntary. Think anyone would go for it? And what would we name such a thing?
Saturday, October 24, 2026
Record Club Alumni Association — Minutes from Meeting #20: Meat Wave, Tori Amos, Blaqbonez, Fontaines D.C.
The Record Club Alumni Association meets every week to discuss the larger body of work that our RC alumni have put together, outside of the specific albums that were covered in the main section of our club. You can follow along with everything that the RCAA has covered so far HERE.
Let us know if you'd like to join RCAA and write about any of these albums! There's a lot to discover!
(Deeper Dive)
Meat Wave
Malign Hex — RC Week 220 — 3.5 pukes out of 5
February 17, 2017
I get Meat Wave and Mclusky mixed up sometimes, mostly because both are firmly in the wheelhouse of our very own Nate, having chosen both artists less than six months apart in Record Club. We see eye to eye in this regard—bands that rock out like this are worth keeping up with. The way I keep them apart (beyond just not being a dumbass and knowing which is which, a task that isn't actually hard, I'm just using the argument as a crutch for something to write about here, bear with me) is that Mclusky seems to not be taking things very seriously (this is a compliment), but I can't really tell with Meat Wave sometimes. It feels like they use a way milder version of the sarcasm that Mclusky employs, but as a shield over some pretty intense stuff, whereas the smirk of Mclusky goes all the way down to the core. This was what I was thinking about as I listened to The Incessant, which I like in similar ways to Malign Hex. I could see how maybe Malign Hex felt like a retread if you heard them in chronological order. I could also maybe see how Malign Hex felt like a little bit slower, like they lost a tiny bit of energy in the between of the two. Maybe it's just been a while since I've given Meat Wave enough attention and I'm surprised at how energetic The Incessant sounds because I've forgotten. In any case, this shit is still badass, continue to count me in.
GRADE: 4 pukes out of 5
(Follow-up)
Tori Amos
Little Earthquakes — RC Week 187 — 3 pukes out of 5
From the Choirgirl Hotel — RCAA #12 — 3 pukes out of 5
May 1, 2026
Okay, maybe it's that I don't have the energy for Tori Amos? Because I liked this one a lot. Probably liked it more than I have either of the other ones, including the RC album that I listened to many more times. There's not that much of a difference. You know what you're getting with Amos, aesthetically speaking. Maybe she just did enough to mix it up this time? "Gasoline Girls" was by far my favorite, with that dope-ass riff that stuck in my head even after the whole album was done. I was smitten with "Fanny Faudrey" too. It felt out-of-place, in a good way. "Pyrite" had a good drum rhythm. The fact that I'm naming songs that stand out honestly is all you need to know, that there are actually songs that stand out. This was long, too long, but not a slog. There were enough songs that kept things interesting. That's all I want out of this artist! But I just wouldn't have the energy to revisit it more than maybe one more time. I don't need to love every album. Sometimes, listening once and knowing that an artist is doing their thing and doing it well is enough for me!
GRADE: 3.5 pukes out of 5
Blaqbonez
Sex over Love — RC Week 304 — 1.5 pukes out of 5
October 17, 2025
I have written over 250 mini-reviews for post-RC albums from our alumni, and I'm at the point where I sincerely don't know what I'm supposed to do with some of these. Will Blaqbonez ever release something that doesn't sound like the generic pop-rap that is snuck into AI-generated YouTube playlists and play until you realize what's happening and skip them? No, most likely he will not. I am here because, ya know, maybe there's a chance he will surprise me. There's been a few of those over the years, artists that level up but only after their time in Record Club comes and goes. No Excuses is not that album. I have the same conclusions that I did with Sex over Love. Expectations thoroughly maintained! So if I'm not being surprised, then what? Why am I here? It's... well, it's punishment sometimes. I have to listen to Blaqbonez for the rest of my life, and that's my punishment for fucking around with Facebook scammers and turning that STUPID bullshit into a Record Club pick. I'm paying the price. I'm listening to Blaqbonez. It's fine. ("Go Crazy" is pretty good, if you're looking for that one track that sounds anything close to interesting.)
GRADE: 2 pukes out of 5
October 16, 2026
Ah SHIT, I forgot for a second that there's been two releases from Blaqbonez since RC covered him. No Excuses was fine but painfully generic. But with an album title like Nomadinho: 4th Prime, maybe THIS is the album that surprises me?! Nahhhhhhh. But—and maybe this is from like Stockholm syndrome or something, what happens after listening to something for x amount of time, two albums in a row absolutely beating me down into a pulp more willing to be open to it—this one sounded better. I still felt the insane density of the "commercialism" (as opposed to "artistry") pressing down upon me as I listened, but it was more bearable on this one? Maybe it was just buying into the fact that I'm only gonna understand like every other word, and the words I do understand sound like gibberish? E.g. during "Big Performer," I'm pretty sure the hook was about Willy Wonka and the Oompa-Loompas? Why? I don't know. But it made me laugh. I want to believe that Blaqbonez is taking all this as seriously as I am. That's not going to improve his skills as an artist, but it's going to, at the very least, not make me want to die as I listen to two hours of pop rap. ("Ca$h Out" is pretty good, if you're looking for that one track that sounds anything close to interesting.)
GRADE: 2.5 pukes out of 5
(Keeping Up)
Fontaines D.C.
Dogrel — RC Week 11 — 4.5 pukes out of 5
A Hero's Death — individual 2020 review — 3.5 pukes out of 5
Skinty Fia — RC f/u #7 — 4 pukes out of 5
ROMANCE — RC f/u #36 — 4.5 pukes out of 5
October 16, 2026
Fontaines D.C. joins the five-timers club in RCAA, those artists that have four more albums since RC covered an album in the main club. Outside of RC even, five albums is enough to start to come up with the official narrative. Here's what I'm seeing recently: Fontaines have gotten better and better, and those who cling to Dogrel being their best are woefully behind the times. See, I do think that Dogrel is their best, still, but I don't think I fit into the category that the strawman in this logical fallacy is trying to paint. As you can see from the grades above, it just took me a little bit to adjust. By the time this band dropped ROMANCE, I was totally bought in again. I thought their most recent album was the closest they'll ever get to Dogrel in terms of quality. And the funny thing is that ROMANCE is about as far as Fontaines have ever been from Dogrel in terms of sound.
Okay, so what of Dopamine Chamber? The most efficient description I've heard of it so far is "ROMANCE after dark." That's accurate. It also results in some real great songs. But it must be said (ad nauseam at this point) that the "after dark" description does nothing to address my inherent needs or wants in rock music. "After dark" means slower and more intentional and sleeker. Fontaines D.C. has managed to strip away everything that made Dogrel special at this point. The incredible thing is that I still really like this music and this band. I think this is a fantastic album. And I also think that the sound is "big" in a way that I appreciate (not exactly the "big" foretold in the Dogrel song "Big," but close enough). Something like "Demolition," which is huge but oddly cold. I guess that's the post-punk still working through this band. The robot voices in "Tongue" add to the coldness, but the gigantic drums add to the scope of the sound, basically calling it even.
This is not a misstep, just another step. I am fully invested in this band, and I will follow them even if they go in a direction that is not to my own preferences. I do not feel the same elation that I felt with ROMANCE, but of course, that's by design. Interesting stuff. I'm definitely willing to reevaluate in a while and see if it grows and if anything else opens up for me. Until then, let's say this is a good album from a great band.
GRADE: 3.5 pukes out of 5
(Random RCAA News)
- Olivia Rodrigo's incredible "Expectations" gets a remix, featuring Chappell Roan, and a very fun music video featuring both of them plus Talking Heads' David Byrne.
- MUNA is on their "Gets So Hot" tour, and, unfortunately, their bus took that tour name serious and caught fire.
- Not sure Fontaines D.C. needed defending (they are very good, see above), but Paramore's Hayley Williams has defended them anyway.
- Shaquille O'Neal's hangin' out with some fucking loser in the FBI, rough stuff!
Let us know if you'd like to join RCAA and write about any of these albums! There's a lot to discover!
In My Place 296
Friday, October 23, 2026
Discussion — Week 403: Exuma by Exuma
Anybody doing those fucking trunk-or-treats this year? We had one last week, and we have one tomorrow night. Shameful shit. Wait, what's that? I already went on this screed last year? Whoops, I guess I did. Just ignore me. We're here to talk about the album anyway. What did you think about Exuma? A good time? I had a good time. Always cool to have never heard of an artist at all before RC hands you a great album that that artist created. What are our closing thoughts on the matter? Let's discuss below. TGIF.
Exuma, Sunny
Hell yes brothers and sisters. The combination of sing-cry-wailing, zombie noises, unconventional instruments, harmonizing, and that big-ass bass drum are unironically entertaining and moving. I barely know anything about what's "going on here" and I don't care. The music has all the signifiers of being big without needing to explain itself. All hail the Obeah Man!!
Exuma, Catherine
I'm thrilled I had an excuse to revisit this one. There's really nothing like it. Every track is so unexpected, and some of them—"Seance in the Sixth Fret particularly"—are hardly songs at all in the traditional sense. Experimental music can sometimes bore me to tears (or make me irrationally angry), but this is tethered to so much personality and history that I find every single sound so incredible. I never knew I needed frogs and crickets and whistles and howling wolves and ZOMBIES but I don't wanna go back. I know Tony McKay / Exuma never saw true mainstream success, but I think that's a testament to his unwavering singularity. I love that this album tells a complete story. In the first song he introduces himself to us, coming down to Earth on a lightning bolt and into his mama's belly, and in the final track, the angels call him home. Heaven, hell, birth, and death in an unending cycle. Obviously my takes on the album I chose won't be a surprise to anyone, but I love the lyrics, I love the sound, I love the album—full stop.
Labels:
Catherine,
Contributors,
Music,
Record Club,
Reviews
Exuma, Joe
I guess Halloween playlists have been a thing for a while. This is my assumption based on the number of generic examples one can find if they visit their closest algorithmic music streaming service. But this year is the first time the idea of "Halloween music" has been codified within my own household. I'm not too upset, since the kids are putting it together themselves, piece by piece, and that happens by asking "Daddy, can you add [insert song] onto the Halloween playlist?" and me manually going into the old iPod that they use and uploading said song from my computer. No algorithms, basically. But I think that they are getting the idea of what exactly is Halloween music from the already established norms of the music marketing industry that is slowing gathering steam in their attempts to market "Halloween music" in the same way that they market "Christmas music," i.e. that there are certain indicators that indelibly mark something as "Halloween music," even if the song itself was never intended to be so in its creation period. These indicators are usually thematic. For example, a song like "Werewolves of London" is supposedly a Halloween song now. Why? Because it's about werewolves. It's not actually about werewolves (what it's actually about is besides the point in this paragraph), but there's the word. Werewolves. It's a Halloween song. Sits comfortably next to "Monster Mash" by Bobby "Boris" Pickett and the Crypt-Kickers now on my kids' classic iPod.
According to the generally agreed upon criteria as our 21st century holiday-as-commercialism society has cemented it, "Exuma, the Obeah Man" would be a Halloween song. That is because the song begins with a wolf howling. "Mama Loi, Papa Loi" is a Halloween song too. It mentions zombies, you see. That's enough to get it on the playlist. Now, would my kids question their inclusion on the playlist if I put these songs on there without warning her first? Of course. I'm speaking academically on the subject of Halloween songs, but my eight-year-old doesn't give a fuck about any of that. She was giving me shit about adding "She Wolf" by Shakira, even though there is a direct path to entry for the kids on that one (Shakira sang the main song from both Zootopia films) in addition to the subject matter undeniable branding it as Halloween related. And I don't like the idea of "Halloween playlists" being a thing either, mind you. I'm just mentioning all of this because I've suffered through a few weeks of "This Is Halloween" by the townsfolk of Halloween Town and "Ghostbusters" by Ray Parker Jr. (they are unfortunately still too young for the Vargskelethor version) and now I'm listening to Exuma and this is—coincidentally, but still—definitely feeling like a breath of fresh air, as far as "Halloween music" goes.
It's borderline insulting to describe this album as such, I'm mostly being facetious to make the point about Halloween music. But I also can't deny that it's fitting, for the season. The hesitation comes from the fact that, culturally speaking, Exuma's music was deeply personal and specific, and the insulting thing to do would be to retrofit it to someone else's culture, i.e. our crass bullshit consumerism culture where all arts and entertainment are crowbarred into whatever season we're in now to sell more trinkets. I think the word I'm looking for is "authentic." That's the word I would use to describe Exuma. And there's something deeply inauthentic about saying "oh well there's a wolf howling at the beginning of this album, don't you want to listen to it now, here, deep in the spooky month of October?"
Especially because Exuma himself, a.k.a. Tony McKay (though he specifically explains in the lyrics that, on this album, he is not Tony McKay, he is Exuma, the Obeah Man), was pretty firm about this not being your garden-variety "voodoo man" bullshit, whatever white Americans have in their head about that subject. Like, he's begging you to not picture Keith David as Dr. Facilier in The Princess and the Frog. This is a musician who is playing up the angle of "this is my culture, this is where I live," which bends more toward, like, religious beliefs than mystical powers. It's rooted in cultural tradition—emancipated slaves who emigrated to (e.g.) the Bahamas would celebrate freedom around Christmastime (i will fucking kill you if you attempt to call this music christmas music), using chanting and upbeat rhythms and a whole bunch of percussion instruments. This music is rooted in tradition. Attempting to shoehorn this particular sound into our tradition of asking neighbors for candy is bullshit, fucking bullshit.
But that was my first thought, so what can ya do. I'm infected with the same virus you are.
It's authentic, though, I think that's what I really wanted to say. It's probably one of the most authentic albums we've ever listened to in this Record Club. There is no pretense here, no indication that it was done for any reason other than Exuma the artist speaking his truth as a human being and as a Bahamian. There was a lot of discussion about "authenticity" as this most recent book club, vis-Ã -vis Springsteen being "authentic" on Nebraska, and that authenticity becoming the album's value. It depends on how you look at it. Is it authentic when an artist hides behinds the characters created within that artistry? If so, Nebraska is inauthentic... but then is Exuma as well? Because Tony McKay created a character who is not real but through him what's real is spoken. It's all up to interpretation, sure. Ultimately, I'm defining "authenticity" as "a means to get to the truth," and so I would say that Exuma (and Nebraska, yes) is authentic.
I will also admit that I usually jump right to the "authentic" description when I'm learning something new, so you should take all this with a grain of salt. Exuma is my one and only entry into Bahamas music and Junkanoo, so I have no choice but to believe it's authentic. I have nothing and no one else telling me differently. I hear a slide whistle at the end of "Exuma, the Obeah Man," I hear the jumble of percussion instruments on "Junkanoo" and think that it sounds like a parade, because that's what I'm told is the tradition here and who the fuck am I to say otherwise? I hear the psychedelic mania of "Seance in the Sixth Fret" and have no other option, I must believe that this is authentically Exuma, attempting to heal the audience through words and sounds, the gong signaling the point of change.
I need to believe this, but why shouldn't I? What's the point of disbelieving? I'm not talking about my lifestyle here, I'm talking about listening to music, and attempting to hear truth from an artist. There is no risk in believing Exuma. There is no liability in choosing to view the art as authentic. I listen because it makes me feel good, to hear it, to hear what I believe is truth.
That's probably why I hate the Halloween playlist phenomenon. There is no attempt at finding deeper truths there. It's simply an attempt to move more bags of candy off the shelves. If I want to feel in tune with the spirits that supposedly haunt this month on the calendar, then there's one album I'm comfortable listening to now.
GRADE: 4 pukes out of 5
In My Place 295
October 22, 2026. 40.06329, -75.08642. See the updated map here. See all the blog posts here.
A bizarre, surreal memory of being in like high school and walking down this road, through the construction site that once was, back when they were building that bridge yonder, or rather refurbishing it, the street under it, ya know, all that, and I musta been walking from Burholme to Wawa if I had to guess, or vice versa, and suddenly I run into the dad of one of my grade school friends, he's on the construction crew, we make small talk and then I walk away, and it strikes me now, on this currently drive, as I listen to music that isn't really catching my interest and so my mind is wandering, through this memory and crash into the realization that I am probably the same age now as he was then, which is a realization that must crash down upon everyone eventually, that the adults you see in your mind's eye from long ago are actually younger in that memory than you are, even though you still don't see yourself as an adult, there it is, the evidence, Mr. W. and his wife were probably at least a couple years younger than my mom, which meant that Mr. W. was probably in his mid-30s when he was working third shift trying to complete the underpass on Cottman Ave. at Ryers Station, which my mind can't comprehend and so I file it away till I turn 40.
A bizarre, surreal memory of being in like high school and walking down this road, through the construction site that once was, back when they were building that bridge yonder, or rather refurbishing it, the street under it, ya know, all that, and I musta been walking from Burholme to Wawa if I had to guess, or vice versa, and suddenly I run into the dad of one of my grade school friends, he's on the construction crew, we make small talk and then I walk away, and it strikes me now, on this currently drive, as I listen to music that isn't really catching my interest and so my mind is wandering, through this memory and crash into the realization that I am probably the same age now as he was then, which is a realization that must crash down upon everyone eventually, that the adults you see in your mind's eye from long ago are actually younger in that memory than you are, even though you still don't see yourself as an adult, there it is, the evidence, Mr. W. and his wife were probably at least a couple years younger than my mom, which meant that Mr. W. was probably in his mid-30s when he was working third shift trying to complete the underpass on Cottman Ave. at Ryers Station, which my mind can't comprehend and so I file it away till I turn 40.
Thursday, October 22, 2026
Never Seen It #343: Candyman
The blog, I can assure you, will be exquisite. As for our attempt to watch 500 movies we've never seen before, there is nothing to fear. Our names will be written on a thousand walls. Our crimes told and retold by our faithful believers. We shall die together in front of their very eyes and give them something to be haunted by. Come with me and be immortal.
1992
Bernard Rose
Zoom: October 21, 2026, 9 PM to 10 PM
Participants: Allison, Bobby, Brianna, Joe, Sam
Alright, so here's what happens in Candyman (as it was solidified in my brain, mid-Zoom). Helen is doing her research on urban legends. She is intrigued by one in particular. Then she finds out that there is a community near her that actually believes in this legend, and who are attributing real crimes to the supernatural being of Candyman. She does her due diligence and investigates. She goes to the building where he's supposedly killed. She runs across a gang leader who attacks her. She is traumatized. After she is traumatized, she has a nervous breakdown, and, during blackouts, starts to act violently toward others. She beheads a dog, steals a baby, then kills her friend, kills her psychiatrist, and so on. All the time attributing it to Candyman, who she can see now. She, in her trauma, is attributing these real crimes to a supernatural being, same as those who have been traumatized by severe poverty. In the end, she overcomes the adversity of her trauma, and saves the baby. She keeps the legend alive, because the legend is a balm for this community. They pay tribute to her sacrifice at her funeral.
Now, whether you want to view the movie like this is up to you. If you want to view it as a movie about a horror movie villain who kills and frames the protagonist, that's your right. But if you view it that way, you might find a worse movie. An illogical movie. That's what the Zoom discussion ended up being, a discussion about whether this movie made sense. Which is a good thing to talk about! If a movie doesn't make sense, then it's not going to be an enjoyable experience! So maybe my theory about Candyman being not real within the framework of the movie but instead a symptom of Helen's traumatic break, maybe that is just my way of dealing with the trauma of a bad film. I don't know! But, within my own trauma, I am imagining that I liked this movie a lot.
Some other thoughts that we discussed:
- Was it scary? Is scariness the way we judge horror movies? The quantity and quality of jump scares, etc.?
- Was the acting good? Tony Todd was "doing a lot with a little"
- Comparisons to Hellraiser were apt, in terms of what "internal logic" means in horror films
- Allison pointed out the opening lines ("They will say that I have shed innocent blood. What's blood for if not for shedding? With my hook for a hand, I'll split you from your groin to your gullet. I came for you.") and how the first half "hooks" you, and the second half is silly.
- Would it have been more logical to have Candyman's origin story closer to the community that is spotlighted in the narrative?
- This is a story about stories, about a storyteller whose story becomes her.
- Trevor! The infidelity subplot is silly and/or stupid.
- The VHS cover with the bees was evocative, multiple people remember this cover from Blockbuster days (I specifically remember seeing it at Pathmark's video rental section)
- Source material took place in Liverpool, this takes place in Chicago—missing our Chicago friends for this discussion!
- There are multiple sequels, and the 2021 film is NOT a remake, but a direct sequel (screenplay by Jordan Peele)
- There is lasting imagery here, including the bees (the actor actually put the bees in his mouth)
- Is the character of Candyman iconic? You don't see kids dressed up like him for Halloween, simply because you can't (no mask), which might hurt its commercial appeal?
- Do we care about the protagonist?
I'm arguing that we do, but maybe that's because I'm particularly drawn to the idea of storytelling, of urban legends, of talking to people as a profession, that sort of thing. I felt a kinship with the type of person who is going to follow a lead and go talk to people who are living an experience that you are fascinated by. Let's not go to heavy on the score, but I think I'm comfortable with at least a 3.5 pukes out of 5 on this one. A lot to talk about, and, as a storyteller, that drew me to this film's story.
How about you? What did you think? If you weren't at the Zoom, let's chat about it in the comments!
(NEXT TIME: Our first small group of Film Club Q7 takes us to the House Party.)
In My Place 294
October 21, 2026. 39.95297, -75.16567. See the updated map here. See all the blog posts here.
Setting of the meeting: repurposed college classroom, one I've been in for way too many boring-ass work meetings and trainings before; I go right to the back, as far back as I can, straight to the corner, far enough away that I'm used for help to figure out whether the speaker needs a microphone (i.e. "can you hear me? joe, can you hear me?").
Setting of the meeting: repurposed college classroom, one I've been in for way too many boring-ass work meetings and trainings before; I go right to the back, as far back as I can, straight to the corner, far enough away that I'm used for help to figure out whether the speaker needs a microphone (i.e. "can you hear me? joe, can you hear me?").
Kind of surreal, when you think about it—and I do, today, a lot, because this is boring shit and my mind has a way of wandering, latching onto big thoughts, to get through the petty small thoughts that assault me during meetings like this—that I'm sitting here, in the shadow of the ancient building that marks the center and heart of this city, one of the most famous cities in the world. Like, that someone in fucking Omaha or Hamburg or Istanbul can pick up a tourist pamphlet for Philadelphia, U.S.A., and they'll see a picture of this building, and here I am, living my humdrum fucking life right next to the same building. Almost impossible to rectify those two realities. But I tried, because the meeting was boring as fuuuuuuuuck.
(Substance of the meeting: repurposed as fiction, here on this blog, eventually—close readers will recognize it when it arrives, others will be confused and let it pass by and forget about it forever.)
Wednesday, October 21, 2026
Shelter from the Storm: Hangin' on the Corner / Party in the Street
Joe is rewriting all his old Xanga posts from 2005 onward, and I think this will probably be the last one.
I just feel like something's changed, these past four days. The end of October had a newness to it. Autumn typically signals the end of something, but I feel like, this time, it's just the beginning. And I've loved every minute of it.
I know it won't be like this forever. There will come a time when the autumn of my life arrives, and the summery youth wanes. Today is not that day. Today—this extended holiday weekend, really—has solidified my place in the world, socially and perhaps emotionally as well. I feel a peace, like this is where I'm meant to be. It won't last forever, but in the very best moments, I'm able to trick myself into thinking it will.
Let's look over some of those moments over the past half of a week, turn them over in our hands and examine them, so that we might document and remember, what it felt like to be like this, this right here, in this place, with these people.
On Friday, I hit the town with my favorite platonic pals: Kristin and Cindy and Mary and Keelan. "Hitting the town" means, currently, that we hung out, but we were mobile about it. You don't stay in one place when you're chilling with friends. Instead, you ping-pong around the neighborhood. It's a ritual geared toward the perpetual sense of searching for adventure. You go to this place and that hoping that "something happens." But even when it doesn't, then you still are left with the satisfaction of hanging out and fucking around with your friends all night.
Let's look over some of those moments over the past half of a week, turn them over in our hands and examine them, so that we might document and remember, what it felt like to be like this, this right here, in this place, with these people.
On Friday, I hit the town with my favorite platonic pals: Kristin and Cindy and Mary and Keelan. "Hitting the town" means, currently, that we hung out, but we were mobile about it. You don't stay in one place when you're chilling with friends. Instead, you ping-pong around the neighborhood. It's a ritual geared toward the perpetual sense of searching for adventure. You go to this place and that hoping that "something happens." But even when it doesn't, then you still are left with the satisfaction of hanging out and fucking around with your friends all night.
So that's what we did Friday night. We completed the ritual. We searched for adventure, us five. We walked through the woods at Burholme, then continued up Cottman to Wendy's, then all the way up Oxford to Wawa, then continuing up to Four Points to Dunkin. I feel like we've taken this route before. We've traced and retraced steps so many times in this town that I can feel the grooves. Adventure did not find us, but in the absence of something solid, we instead cling to the gaseous sense of adventure, the one that permeates everything we do, no matter how monotonous it might seem to outsiders. The search for adventure becomes the adventure. And we found it well, and intact, and kept it safe and unbroken, fit to be found another day.
On Saturday, I woke up with a motivation to find that other sense of adventure, the solid kind, the one that stays put and sits with you, the kind you can touch and feel and pick up and feel its weight. And there's no better place to find such a thing than Burholme. Instead of passing through like we had done the previous night, I set up camp. Flare guns were aimed at the sky via text message, imploring all those with ways and means to find their way to my party, there in the dark woods.
If I said that only seven people showed up, then maybe you might think I was disappointed. But I wasn't. I could only be disappointed if not a single person showed up to partake in the ritual of underage drinking. Seven! What a gift, to have seven friends in this context. That's a magical number too. Seven has mystical properties, that wasn't lost on me. To share a cold one with seven friends makes one feel like they are one with the universe.
After the limited number of brews were tapped dry, we gave up and let the solid sense of adventure liquify, let it flow down the river of Central Ave., to the bright pink facade of Hunan Wok's. You might not believe it if you're not from around here, but it's easy to picture if you are: there were at least 30 other kids congregated there already, just hanging out. I think what must have happened was that, well, they were searching for adventure too. All of us kids, coming from separate corners of theglobe neighborhood, and meeting here.
Coincidentally—that's key. This wasn't planned, this rendezvous. We were here by mistake. But, thinking about it another way, perhaps it was meant to be. If you pump enough molecules into a limited space, then they are all gonna bounce off each other eventually. This night, this glorious, crowded Saturday night, is what happens when you put enough restless kids in one town and set 'em free. They meet up, they bounce off each other, then they disperse into the night.
After the limited number of brews were tapped dry, we gave up and let the solid sense of adventure liquify, let it flow down the river of Central Ave., to the bright pink facade of Hunan Wok's. You might not believe it if you're not from around here, but it's easy to picture if you are: there were at least 30 other kids congregated there already, just hanging out. I think what must have happened was that, well, they were searching for adventure too. All of us kids, coming from separate corners of the
Coincidentally—that's key. This wasn't planned, this rendezvous. We were here by mistake. But, thinking about it another way, perhaps it was meant to be. If you pump enough molecules into a limited space, then they are all gonna bounce off each other eventually. This night, this glorious, crowded Saturday night, is what happens when you put enough restless kids in one town and set 'em free. They meet up, they bounce off each other, then they disperse into the night.
Sunday? Nothing, nothing to note. Oh, whoops, maybe this ruins the narrative's momentum. Not every day is fun, ya know. We caused our mischief already, no sense of waiting till Mischief Night. Maybe Mischief Night is when I like to relax.
But Monday... ah. Halloween. We're at an in-between time for this holiday, I know it. Too old for candy in pillowcases, too young for open-bar shenanigans at beef and beer halls. So we made the best of it, mainly by pressing against the generational barriers erected on either side of us. Maryrose and I attempted to push toward the younger extreme by doing some "trick-or-treating," which mostly involved knocking on doors whose houses had no lights on, and playing dumb when someone finally answered the door in bathrobes or slippers or night masks (call it a reverse of Ding Dong Ditch, maybe).
And then a few of us tested boundaries in the other direction, acting older than we were, drinking stuff that the judge says we can't drink. You know the story. You've heard this tale so many times on this Xanga. It's to the point where parents are reading it, and they are getting worried. So many questions might arise, such as: what did they drink; how quickly did they drink it; where did they get it; how can we prevent this sort of behavior in the future. I mean, I don't have the answers for you. All I know is that I survived, I tested the limits and I survived to see another day, even if that another day is full of the interior of trash cans and plastic bags that I'm puking into.
Don't be concerned, please. In fact, you should be enthralled, enthused, ecstatic. You, yes you! The kids reading this Xanga post right now! Something fucking crazy is happening in my neighborhood. We're all coming out, out into the street. We're leaving the front door ajar as we flat-foot it across lawns and hop onto bikes and into cars or just keep running. The adventure is now. We are free, out here. There are no parents. There are no worries, no cares. Everything that happens during the daytime? All those restrictions, those anxieties? Tests, homework, jobs, responsibilities, expectations? You can leave it all behind.
It doesn't matter where you are now. What I'm telling you is that you should be here. This is my neighborhood, and it's yours too. Take the trip. Hang out with me this weekend. Don't be bored. Find adventure, and find it here. Give me a call, and we'll paint the town red.
Comments
VinylVixen89: If you supply the paint, I'll bring the brushes.
Anonymous: I had a dream last night I met Paul Simon after the show and we were hanging out at his place drinking whiskey. It was a werid dream I must say. Early this morning I were at the coffee shop with my cousin, she said to me that I should make a new website since my old website got shut down because the credit card wasn't working right for some reason.
I love you,
Justin "The Only One" Barrett
In My Place 293
October 20, 2026. 40.07165, -75.069. See the updated map here. See all the blog posts here.
There's a difference between scared of the real and scared of the unreal. We're scared all the time, we humans, but being smart about it means being able to delineate between the shit you're supposed to be afraid of and the shit that doesn't exist.
There's a difference between scared of the real and scared of the unreal. We're scared all the time, we humans, but being smart about it means being able to delineate between the shit you're supposed to be afraid of and the shit that doesn't exist.
A quick analysis in my brain told me that the fear I felt before traversing through the pitch-black woods on this autumn evening would be fear of the unreal. There's a non-zero probability of a real danger, like with a wild animal or something I guess, or tripping and twisting my ankle on a rock, but I don't think that's exacerbated in the dark. No, the dark only exacerbates the unreal fears, like, uh, fear of Candyman poking his bloody hook out from behind a tree. I feel the fear of the unknown, but I have the ability to push that aside, to focus on the known, and to determine that it was all good. Flashlight on, eight-minute shortcut through the woods, no problem.
It was silent in there, completely silent. To be honest, if I yelled as loud as I could, I bet you Pam could have heard me from our house. I'm saying if I twisted my ankle and needed help or something. So that was a comfort too. If Candyman gutted me? Probably wouldn't have time to yell. But that's not real. It's very easy to do something like walk through the woods at night when you don't believe in scary things that aren't real.
Tuesday, October 20, 2026
A Year of Blind Spots: Ambient 1: Music for Airports
Joe is working through a list of albums that he considers "blind spots," i.e. albums that he's never heard but feels like he should.
If the first three solo records Brian Eno released in the early 1970s represented a left turn from his work with Roxy Music, then 1975's Discreet Music was virtually a lift-off into space. The quartet of drifting, peculiarly hypnotic soundscapes, three of them reinventions of Pachelbel's "Canon in D Major," marked his first forays into what he called ambient music. The idea was a progression of sorts from French composer Erik Satie's creation in 1920 of musique d'ameublement: literally, "furniture music," designed less to be listened to and more to be occasionally overheard. Discreet Music was conceived during an extended hospital visit; for its follow-up, Eno produced this set, inspired by a similarly sterile environment."It must be ignorable as it is interesting," wrote Eno on the liner notes to Ambient 1: Music for Airports. As a manifesto, it could scarcely have been more fully realized. The four shapeless works drift glacially in and out of focus: a ghostly choir, some muted brass, countless piano teardrops (played on "1/1" by Robert Wyatt). And yet despite the lack of structure, it is never displeasing, due chiefly to its astutely grounded tonality.Some critics called it boring, missing the point by a mile. Undeterred, Eno followed Ambient 1: Music for Airports with numerous other records of a similar bent, most notably 1982's mysterious, enveloping Ambient 4: On Land, and the gorgeously ethereal Apollo: Atmospheres and Soundtracks from 1983. However, it is as a producer that he found greater renown, famously working with Apollo collaborator Daniel Lanois on U2's The Joshua Tree.
Joe:
Okay, just because I'm calling it "boring" doesn't mean I'm missing the point. I get the point. I think it's a good point, an interesting point, even. The point being that we should recontextualize what we think of when we think of "music as art." That it's still art if we engage with it in a different way. Brian Eno's point is foisted upon us in this album, as there is literally nothing to engage with, and so we must push it to the background. This is where, according to Eno, we are able to "create space for thought." Yes, okay, I get it! If we're judging a work of art by how well it achieves its stated goals, then Ambient 1: Music for Airports is an obvious success.
But it's still boring, is the thing. This is what I want: I want music to be exciting. That's the point I usually try to make in album reviews (which this is not, it's more of an explainer, but still), that I tend to like music that is exciting, i.e. catchy or uptempo or melody-forward or whatever. Not all of my favorite music is like that, I'm speaking generally, with plenty of exceptions. There was no chance on earth that I was going to find Music for Airports exciting, because it's not designed to be that. It's designed to be something else completely. And I understand what it's supposed to be, I do! Just because I come back to the same conclusion that it's boring as shit doesn't mean I don't understand it, and I feel insulted that the book would imply that.
I understand that this is the landmark ambient album, in that it's considered the "best" ambient album, as well as the album that literally coined the term. The idea "of" ambient music, as noted above, was not new, but Eno called it that in the title of this album, and that's the term that stuck. I don't think it sticks as well if Ambient 1 wasn't also considered a top-tier ambient album right off the bat. Moreover, I think that it doesn't stick as well if this was "ambient + [something else]." Not that it could have, this early in ambient's existence, I'm just speaking hypothetically. But think of the other well-known and well-appreciated albums that have the "ambient" tag on them.
Think about Selected Ambient Works 85-92, as an example from this very column. I liked that album when I finally got around to it a year ago. In that column, I discussed how "ambient" was a misnomer, and that it was actually an electronic album that functioned in the same way, ideologically, as an ambient album. Ambient 1: Music for Airports, instead, created the function and the ideology. It's pure ambient, on its own self-created terms. This is the reason that this album is known as an important one, because of how much of genesis it was for a whole fucking wing of music. This is, consequentially, the reason that I felt the compulsion to check it out. I'm at the point where I know what I like, but equally like the act of exploring what I don't know I like.
Think about Selected Ambient Works 85-92, as an example from this very column. I liked that album when I finally got around to it a year ago. In that column, I discussed how "ambient" was a misnomer, and that it was actually an electronic album that functioned in the same way, ideologically, as an ambient album. Ambient 1: Music for Airports, instead, created the function and the ideology. It's pure ambient, on its own self-created terms. This is the reason that this album is known as an important one, because of how much of genesis it was for a whole fucking wing of music. This is, consequentially, the reason that I felt the compulsion to check it out. I'm at the point where I know what I like, but equally like the act of exploring what I don't know I like.
So I know I don't like Brian Eno's ambient music. I know this for certain. It's funny, if you go back at read the second entry in this ongoing blog series, six years and 338 column entries ago, the one about Speaking in Tongues by Talking Heads, you'll get some backchat about Brian Eno. Too much chat for someone who didn't really know anything about the guy at that point.
I still don't—his production discography is massive, too big to ever presume a solid understanding of it—but I am here at a critical juncture in his solo career, and an important moment in the formation of his legacy, and I can say this: I get it. I get what was appealing to a certain type of person. That type of person values what the art means over the art itself, to a fault. I can't seem to ever bring myself fully outside the value of the art itself, though, and so I'm stuck with an ambient album that is pretty fucking boring.
I still don't—his production discography is massive, too big to ever presume a solid understanding of it—but I am here at a critical juncture in his solo career, and an important moment in the formation of his legacy, and I can say this: I get it. I get what was appealing to a certain type of person. That type of person values what the art means over the art itself, to a fault. I can't seem to ever bring myself fully outside the value of the art itself, though, and so I'm stuck with an ambient album that is pretty fucking boring.
Listen to the album in full:
In My Place 292
October 19, 2026. 40.08664, -75.04482. See the updated map here. See all the blog posts here.
Calling out sick is the thing that discombobulates me the most. Especially when I'm not the one sick, when I have to call out because others need my care. Then it feels like I'm playing hooky. It's actually a tough emotion to get a grip on, that feeling that the world is still turning without you, that people are out there living their lives, still, even as you press pause on yours. I guess this is why people are afraid to die, because they feel like they're going to be missing out on something. A way to combat that would be to try your best to practice the belief that wherever you are, that's where you're supposed to be. Whether it be at home, at work, in the Aldi supermarket, or in hell.
Calling out sick is the thing that discombobulates me the most. Especially when I'm not the one sick, when I have to call out because others need my care. Then it feels like I'm playing hooky. It's actually a tough emotion to get a grip on, that feeling that the world is still turning without you, that people are out there living their lives, still, even as you press pause on yours. I guess this is why people are afraid to die, because they feel like they're going to be missing out on something. A way to combat that would be to try your best to practice the belief that wherever you are, that's where you're supposed to be. Whether it be at home, at work, in the Aldi supermarket, or in hell.
Monday, October 19, 2026
The PoYB Monthly Playlist: October 2026
You get a dozen songs every month, in playlist form, that act as official PoYB music recommendations, since none of the other music columns are necessarily recommending anything, just exploring. These are your recs. Fuck the algorithm.
I don't know if I'm going to continue this column into 2027. It's a nice way to reflect on some of the good tunes I have discovered over the past month, yes, but do I need to do that here, in this form? Or is there a more efficient way to do it that doesn't involve writing a blog post? I don't know. Lots of hard questions about PoYB as we finish out the year.
October 2026
1. "Do Yourself a Favor" by the Tubs — I expect greatness at this point from every Tubs release, because third time's a charm. Almost every song on this album sounds like a hit. But since we can only choose one for the playlist, I'm choosing this one, since its synth riff has basically played on repeat in my head for five weeks now.
2. "Versailles" by Carly Rae Jepsen — A little secret I'll share with you now (especially in the context of "should I keep this blog column going") is that a lot of these picks are basically darts thrown at a board, the choice is wherever it lands. When you have a good album, sometimes it doesn't matter what song ends up here. There were like 20+ choices from Jepsen's new one. You get the point I'm trying to make with any of them, that point being "hey, check out this new album."
3. "Not Bad for New Jersey" by Brian Fallon — This new album (of which this song is the title track) of Brian Fallon's I think is, officially, his best. This is comparing it to other solo albums, and NOT against Gaslight Anthem albums. But anyways. Hey, do you know who produced this album? Butch Walker! That's right! The currently disgraced member of the RC band Train! The guy who's produced so many albums that I like, and the guy who dated a fifteen-year-old when he was in his mid-30s! I like to see art as the distinct vision of the listed artist. For example, this album is by Brian Fallon, who wrote the songs and performed them and probably didn't know that the dude behind the dials had a sordid past. It's similar to saying that child sex abuser Jeffrey Jones was an integral part of Deadwood, but it wasn't his vision, he didn't create Deadwood. He was a part of it, but not the reason for it. I'd still watch Deadwood, conscience-free. This isn't an excuse, I'm just explaining my own emotions, and where my mind draws the line. Take it or leave it.
5. "La La La" by Segun Buckner — We were talking about Willow's class project where she has to pick a country and make a display for it, and I was thinking back on when I did a similar thing in elementary school. My country was Nigeria. I remember the flag well. And then I read something shortly after that about Nigeria 80, a compilation of Nigerian music that acted as an update for a 2001 compilation called Nigeria 70, featuring a quick history of funk and rock music from Nigeria, the exact same year that I did a presentation on that country. I wish I would've known about it back then.
4. "Jesus Christ Supercar" by Adult DVD — I try to listen to an album a little bit before I download it, but sometimes all the tastemakers I follow online recommend the same exact thing, so I download it sight unseen (or, uh, sound unheard?). Adult DVD was one of them. It doesn't always work. Sometimes, the album in question is just okay. Adult DVD's self-titled is pretty good. It wouldn't be my first recommendation. But if you think about it, the tastemakers in question (I'm talking about music critics, by the way), they are recommending a bunch of shit to me, just like I'm recommending a bunch of shit to you too. Maybe Adult DVD was like mid-tier to everyone. If that's the case, I'll continue the trend, and recommend it to you, along with their best/best-named song.
6. "Billy Came Back" by This Is Lorelei — I hate bumping the hot single on this playlist, but sometimes it's inevitable. I accidentally heard this song on XPN and fell in love with it before the album landed. A big no-no! I honestly thought it was a Phoebe Bridgers song at first. Those backing vocals are definitely Phoebe, right? Uncredited? Come on. It's obvious.
7. "Cloak & Dagger" by Perennial — The AC/DC format strikes again. "Every song sounds the same." "Yeah, but it's a great fucking song." I am familiar with Perennial through three albums now, and they all sounds pretty similar. It's a pretty great album, though.
8. "learning to drive again" by Adeem the Artist — This appears to be a Bandcamp-only release, not on YouTube, so I added "Heritage of Arrogance" in its spot to the above list, and implore you to check out the actual song HERE, on Bandcamp. The more I listen to it, the more I think it might be Adeem's best song yet. They make it personal, which will certainly dispel any notion of this artist's craft being driven by tokenism, I think.
9. "11,000 Volts" by Sunday Mourners — I dunno, man, sometimes I just want something that sounds like Parquet Courts. Did I see that a dude from that band was embarking on a solo career or something? Honestly, I'd rather just listen to a completely different band who reminds me of Parquet Courts. Sometimes you gotta be judicious with replacement sounds.
10. "No Friends" by Dinosaur Jr. — Having like a decent chunk of their music for a good long while now, it was nice read this Pitchfork feature and actually getting a sense of who the fuck these people are. Better late than never for yours truly. On the other hand, it feels like maybe this is the first time anyone knew anything real and true about the band or about J Mascis.
11. "Adios Mexico" by Texas Tornados — Okay, so I had a hankering to listen to some Tejano music, because I was thinking about that Selena album, and how it might be my favorite album from A Year of Blind Spots so far, after 340 albums so far, six years of doing that shit. And then I went to RYM and searched that genre tag, and chose the top non-Selena artist. That was Texas Tornados. I was mildly disappointed, but it was still pretty fun. I guess I wanted less accordion and more chintzy, corny keyboard playing. In any case, this song was the closest to what I wanted. I think I should just try another Selena album next time instead.
12. "The Megazord" by Gilla Band — No idea what to make of this noise-rock band. It's intriguing, if anything. I'm putting the most intriguing one, here at the end of the playlist, so that you can skip it and end the playlist early, in case it's not your thing. Is it my thing? I think??? Not sure yet. Let me get back to you.
In My Place 291
October 18, 2026. 40.07319, -75.06903. See the updated map here. See all the blog posts here.
There's some sick rot making its way through the heart of America, sweeping through the common people. It's the obsessive need to "do things," to participate in events, no matter how stupid, pointless, painful. Today's FOMO event was a "trick-or-treating" event at the horse stables next door (a location that somehow took 291 days to take a photo at this year). We live next door, and it was free, true, so that put some balm on the wound of waiting 75 minutes for twelve pieces of candy from the animals that we see every day of our lives. There were people that came from out of town for this. There were people waiting two hours for this. I feel sad and I don't know if I can articulate why. Something about how there is an emptiness in our lives and we think we can fill it by gathering in public for the most asinine fucking reasons. There's an Infinite Jest passage about this, I should probably find it and reread it tonight, to soothe my soul from the pain I feel after waiting in this long line and thinking that this is precluding some sort of cataclysmic collapse in our society.
There's some sick rot making its way through the heart of America, sweeping through the common people. It's the obsessive need to "do things," to participate in events, no matter how stupid, pointless, painful. Today's FOMO event was a "trick-or-treating" event at the horse stables next door (a location that somehow took 291 days to take a photo at this year). We live next door, and it was free, true, so that put some balm on the wound of waiting 75 minutes for twelve pieces of candy from the animals that we see every day of our lives. There were people that came from out of town for this. There were people waiting two hours for this. I feel sad and I don't know if I can articulate why. Something about how there is an emptiness in our lives and we think we can fill it by gathering in public for the most asinine fucking reasons. There's an Infinite Jest passage about this, I should probably find it and reread it tonight, to soothe my soul from the pain I feel after waiting in this long line and thinking that this is precluding some sort of cataclysmic collapse in our society.
Horses were cute, though.
Sunday, October 18, 2026
Album of the Week: Exuma
Catherine is choosing her first album for Record Club today. I just counted (from the list here, after you scroll down), and she is the 81st person to choose an album for this club over the years. Welcome to Record Club, and welcome to the ranks of RC captains, along with such past captains as the bassist of Real Estate, Stephan's grandmother, and the boyfriends of every classmate I had in grad school.
CATHERINE'S PITCH: "I can't remember how I first stumbled across Exuma, but I revisit this album a few times a year for a palette cleanse when I get stuck in a musical rut. The '70s Bahamian folk style is like nothing I'd heard before. It's cool, it's catchy and it's even a little scary—perfect for this time of year. As an extra cherry on top, this album partly inspired Jordan Peele's Nope."
We are tracking and counting down every week from here on out till Record Club Week 420. We started this countdown 69 weeks out. During Record Club Week 420, we will be covering Donny Most by the esteemed Happy Days virgin Donny Most. The goal for Week 420 of Record Club is that it will feature 69 reviews from 69 different people.
THIS WEEK: We are 17 weeks away from Week 420.
Record Club:
WEEK 403 — October 18-24, 2026
LISTEN:
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PICKED BY CATHERINE
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ALBUM DETAILS
TITLE: It's called Exuma, but all three streaming services insist on calling it Exuma, the Obeah Man. I don't know where that came from, or how it was collectively decided. Don't get distracted, this is a self-titled album.
GENRE: Psychedelic folk, Caribbean folk music, wyrd folk, Junkanoo, calypso, goombay
GENRE: Psychedelic folk, Caribbean folk music, wyrd folk, Junkanoo, calypso, goombay
RELEASED: April 1970
LENGTH: 38:41
TRACKLIST:
- Exuma, the Obeah Man
- Dambala
- Mama Loi, Papa Loi
- Junkanoo
- Seance in the Sixth Fret
- You Don't Know What's Going On
- The Vision
LYRICS: Genius.com
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ARTIST DETAILS
PRONOUNS: he/him/his
ABOUT: Macfarlane Gregory Anthony Mackey was born on February 18, 1942, on Cat Island, the Bahamas. He was known professionally as Tony McKay, or Exuma. His Exuma persona, as well as his lyrics, were influenced by the West African and Bahamian tradition of Obeah, a system of spiritual and healing practices developed among enslaved West Africans in the West Indies, practiced by many on the islands of the Bahamas. McKay denied any "voodoo" imagery, stating "it isn't voodoo or witchcraft, not in the way that the man goes home at night and makes a secret potion." After releasing his first six albums, he created a musical stage production titled Junkanoo Drums, which led to him becoming a regular performer at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival. In the 1980s, he created his own record label called Inagua Records. He spent time in Colorado and Miami before moving back to the Bahamas and passing away in his sleep in January 1997.
DISCOGRAPHY: This is Exuma's first of ten studio albums. The last and most recent album listed on Wikipedia is 1982's Universal. The first six albums are the ones with hyperlinks, including sophomore album Exuma II, released the same year as Exuma.
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ADDITIONAL INFO
READING SOME SHIT: a 50-year retrospective from Rolling Stone in 2020
WATCHING SOME SHIT: "Exuma, the Obeah Man" on what looks like a public broadcasting show called Soul!
RECORD CLUB CONNECTIONS: RC alumnus Andrew Bird wrote about this album briefly for Pitchfork back in 2009. "You Don’t Know What’s Going On" was featured in a 1970 comedy called Joe, 54 years before RC covered R&B artist Joe.
MENTIONS ON THE BLOG: Nothing yet! I haven't even seen Nope!
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RECORD CLUB ALUMNI ASSOCIATION
This week's discography dive album: The Incessant by Meat Wave
This week's follow-up album: No Excuses by Blaqbonez and hopefully The Time of Dragons by Tori Amos finally
This week's keeping up album (probably): Dopamine Chamber by Fontaines D.C.
Listen with us! Keep your favorite Record Club artists in the rotation!
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COUNTDOWN:
69 Weeks Until Week 420
We are tracking and counting down every week from here on out till Record Club Week 420. We started this countdown 69 weeks out. During Record Club Week 420, we will be covering Donny Most by the esteemed Happy Days virgin Donny Most. The goal for Week 420 of Record Club is that it will feature 69 reviews from 69 different people.
THIS WEEK: We are 17 weeks away from Week 420.
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Happy listening, RC family!
Have a great week!
Have a great week!
Labels:
Album of the Week,
Catherine,
Joe,
Music,
Record Club
In My Place 290
October 17, 2026. 39.94924, -75.1489. See the updated map here. See all the blog posts here.
The idea of "map of free bathrooms in the city" is one that floats around everyone's skulls at least once in their lives (I think it made it onto an episode of Seinfeld too, didn't it?). But the idea will never actually be borne out. Free bathrooms are too fickle. The map itself would require community input that is way less easier to obtain once those community members have empty bladders. It's all supposed to just live in your head, anyway. The heads of people who often find themselves in the position of having to pee and not knowing where to go to do so. I decided to pee before driving home from book club and found myself going back into the hotel that was adjacent to (connected to?) the bar we were at, down the plush stairway into a labyrinth of hallways on the basement level, with a free bathroom, right there, available to anyone who wants to walk right in. I filed it away, mentally, but, like, what are the chances that I'll find myself in this area of the city with this full of a bladder ever again? Not impossible, but unlikely. And so the file is shredded and I continue on in a world where bathrooms are elusive and every public pee feels like a quest.
The idea of "map of free bathrooms in the city" is one that floats around everyone's skulls at least once in their lives (I think it made it onto an episode of Seinfeld too, didn't it?). But the idea will never actually be borne out. Free bathrooms are too fickle. The map itself would require community input that is way less easier to obtain once those community members have empty bladders. It's all supposed to just live in your head, anyway. The heads of people who often find themselves in the position of having to pee and not knowing where to go to do so. I decided to pee before driving home from book club and found myself going back into the hotel that was adjacent to (connected to?) the bar we were at, down the plush stairway into a labyrinth of hallways on the basement level, with a free bathroom, right there, available to anyone who wants to walk right in. I filed it away, mentally, but, like, what are the chances that I'll find myself in this area of the city with this full of a bladder ever again? Not impossible, but unlikely. And so the file is shredded and I continue on in a world where bathrooms are elusive and every public pee feels like a quest.
Saturday, October 17, 2026
Book Club Review and Discussion: Deliver Me from Nowhere: The Making of Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska by Warren Zanes
Thank you for allowing me this particular indulgence on the blog. Hopefully it's an easy one to skip, if you don't like to read and/or identify as female. This is PoYB's quarterly check in on Boys/Beers/Breakfast/Book Club, which, as of this publishing time (9:30 AM on 10/17/26), is convening for their 32nd meeting. I think I do it this way for two reasons. The first is that I find that documenting the art and entertainment that I engage with and document too my thoughts on it has a way of helping me remember that it happened at all. So much bullshit passes through our brains, and it's hard to remember the book or the album or the movie you read/heard/watched a couple months ago, let alone years ago. The second is that it's an easy reference for me during the book discussion, having my thoughts organized like this. So thanks. And if you identify as male or non-binary and can read and want to be part of our book club, hit me up!
So I'll want to talk about the music too, which is tricky. Tricky because I feel like I'm gonna get called out on it. We've read books that have been adapted into movies and TV shows, and I usually get pretty defensive about this being a BOOK club, and can we please not talk about the fucking crime detective TV show that the author had a hand in creating, please, this isn't a TV club it's a book club, etc. etc. But this is different, right? The book is about the music. You can't talk about the book without talking about the music. You are gonna react to the book differently depending on how you originally reacted to the music (or if you reacted to the music at all, which will be interesting to hear, if someone doesn't listen to Bruce Springsteen but read this book). It's baked right in.
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| spoilers for the book below!!! |
So I'll want to talk about the music too, which is tricky. Tricky because I feel like I'm gonna get called out on it. We've read books that have been adapted into movies and TV shows, and I usually get pretty defensive about this being a BOOK club, and can we please not talk about the fucking crime detective TV show that the author had a hand in creating, please, this isn't a TV club it's a book club, etc. etc. But this is different, right? The book is about the music. You can't talk about the book without talking about the music. You are gonna react to the book differently depending on how you originally reacted to the music (or if you reacted to the music at all, which will be interesting to hear, if someone doesn't listen to Bruce Springsteen but read this book). It's baked right in.
My Springsteen opinions are numerous and they are already on this blog. My opinion of the book is that it did a great job at continuing the discussion as it was already happening in my head. I love thinking about music and so I loved reading a book written by someone who clearly loves thinking about music too. The basic thing that you can ask from this is that it gives you a different perspective on something you already knew and already had an opinion on. If it adds something new or changes how you think even slightly, then it's a success. I have never been the biggest fan of Nebraska, but I've always liked it (it's Springsteen, after all). I think I like it slightly more than I did before, but I appreciate it way more than I did prior to reading this book about it. That's the important part.
I love a good deep dive on a specific album, and the author here did a fantastic job at doing that. Deep dives usually go in both directions at once: inward and outward. What about the artist informed the art, and what about the art informs the audience. I thought both threads were easy to follow. I thought the best parts of the book were when these two paths intersected. E.g. when we hear from a few other musicians about their take on Nebraska (Steve Earle, etc.), and we are specifically asked, where was Bruce Springsteen while all his fans were being impacted by his album? Then it whips around and talks about the aftermath for the artist, and how it contrasted with the reaction from everyone else.
The reason I liked this book is that it didn't just tell me about an album. It told me about the world that I inhabit, through the lens of an album and the artist who made it. I think ultimately the author wants you to take the book out of the equation and think about the album as a way to connect with the world at large, and connect with yourself as you exist within that world. I don't know if I'm there yet with this album, but I appreciate Warren Zanes holding my hand and trying to get me there.
GRADE: 4 pukes out of 5 (everything about music gets a higher grade)
Discussion Questions
1. The book makes the argument that a song's greatest power is the ability to think about and talk about it afterward. Do you feel this way about Nebraska? Springsteen in general? Other music? None of the above?
2. Interesting to hear Springsteen talk about himself as "alienated," and the art as a way to combat that. Are all artists condemned to feel lonely?
3. Did the book do a good job handling the influences of this album? Like, was the discussion of Badlands handled appropriately, or did it distract?
4. Was the idea of making the demos into the actual album without changing it a good idea? Was it the defining idea that the book made it out to be?
5. I have to imagine that the movie that's based on this book made a huge fucking deal about Springsteen's relationship with his father, but it's not really touched on here at all. Most of that was touched on in Bruce's autobiography anyway. It feels weird to me that the movie would do that, to miss the point of this album being Bruce escaping himself, considering these characters to be their own thing and not some way to deal with the pain. Or were they? I dunno, I would be asking for general thoughts on the relationship between the artist and their family, their art, and their audience.
6. What do we make of the thesis that Nebraska is about the failure of the American dream? I thought this quote was good: "The American dream was always a brand that was sold to us."
7. I felt a kinship with Springsteen when they were talking about how he is weary of big hit songs because they distract from the album as a singular piece of art. I've always said that! What are your thoughts? And don't you think it's funny that Born in the U.S.A. sidesteps this issue by simple virtue of having so many hit songs on it that that becomes the entirety of the album instead of the distraction?
8. Are the other characters in this book served well? I'm talking about Jon Landau, Chuck Plotkin, etc.? Or is this the Bruce show?
9. I appreciated all the discussion about critical reaction to this album too. I liked the theory that Nebraska made it easy for critics to buy in, right before the commercial liftoff of Born in the U.S.A. I wonder what you, an amateur music critic (by virtue of being a member of this blog, whether you like it or not!), think about this theory, and what you might think about music criticism in general, and its role in music?
10. Is there a difference between being a songwriter and being a performer? I thought the comparison to James Brown was an interesting one, in this context. Lots of great comparison littered throughout this book. Springsteen/Landau as Lewis/Clark was another good one. Oh, and Springsteen's creation of Nebraska being his Odyssey!
Labels:
Book Club,
Joe,
Music,
Not Music,
Print Media,
Reviews,
Springsteen,
Vinny
Record Club Alumni Association — Minutes from Meeting #19: Harry and the Potters, Neil Diamond, Converge, Adeem the Artist
The Record Club Alumni Association meets every week to discuss the larger body of work that our RC alumni have put together, outside of the specific albums that were covered in the main section of our club. You can follow along with everything that the RCAA has covered so far HERE.
(Follow-up)
Wild at Heart
(Keeping Up)
Lumos — RC Week 21 — 4.5 pukes out of 5
Harry and the Potters
June 2003
The concern, probably, is the voice. Well, no, that was the concern last time, and it was gently washed away in the excitement of a Harry Potter music album that was fun and clever and catchy and dorky in all the right ways. But the two dudes in the band just simply cannot sing. It's only a problem if the songwriting isn't there (or song-stealing, or whatever, who cares, who cares if they aped from Weezer and Pete Townsend and etc. etc., who cares?!). With Harry and the Potters' first album, a self-titled affair that covers the stories of the first four books, I would argue that the songwriting just simply isn't there. It's not that big of a mystery. Sixteen years separate the first and the last albums from this Wizard Rock band. That's a lot of time to learn how to write a catchy song. As it stands in 2003, the music mostly consisted of sad dumb keyboard playing while terrible vocals explained, in not-so-great detail, the events of the books. It's all good though. I appreciate the fact that this shit even existed at all, back in a time when the world seemed innocent and wonderful to my young, immature eyes, and dumb silly dudes in Harry Potter glasses played the dumbest, silliest rock music you've ever heard. I also think that there are at least two songs on here—"Save Ginny Weasley" and "These Days Are Dark"—that are legitimately good, in the way that the majority of the songs on Lumos are good. I'm not trying to be a spoilsport. I just think that it's not that great, and that's because these dudes are way younger, and just not very good at what they are doing. Yet!!!
GRADE: 2 pukes out of 5
List of bands that I found under the "Wizard Rock" genre tag on RYM (and yes, I'd like to check them all out, please):
- Harry and the Potters
- Draco and the Malfoys
- Rubeus and the Hagrids
- The Whomping Willows
- Voldemort
- The Cruciatus Curse
- The Remus Lupins
- Hollow Godric
- Roonil Wazlib
- The Parselmouths
- Oliver Boyd and the Remembralls
- The Hungarian Horntails
- The Sectumsempras
- Muggle Death Camp
- Voldemort
- Ginny and the Heartbreakers
- How Airplanes Fly
- Ministry of Magic
- The Hermione Crookshanks Experience
- The Moaning Myrtles
- The Fleur Delacours
- Gred and Forge
- Creevey Crisis
- The Marauders
- Tonks and the Aurors
- Dumbledore
- Kingsley and the Shacklebolts
- Justin Finch Fletchley and The Sugar Quills
- The Butterbeer Experience
- Gryffindor Common Room Rejects
- The Mudbloods
- The Nifflers
- Big Whompy
- Tom Riddle and Friends
- The Basilisk in Your Pasta
- The Giant Squidstravaganza
- Shrieking Shack Disco Gang
- RiddleTM
- Peeved
- Swish and Flick
- Bob Dylan
- Danny Dementor
- The 8th Horcrux
- Dawlish and the Archies
- Hungry Hungry Hippogriffs
- House of Black
- The Blibbering Humdingers
- The Muggle Spell Theory
(Follow-up)
Neil Diamond
The Christmas Album — RC Week 255 — 3 pukes out of 5
Wild at Heart
May 8, 2026
It's telling that Neil doesn't have a "THAT album," one that people can point to and say something like, that's the one, that's when he got everything together and pulled off the good one, his masterpiece, etc. Neil Diamond does songs, not albums. I mean, he does albums, he has a bunch of them, but his high points arrive in the form of songs. That's just how it goes with some artists. It makes sense that we did a Christmas album of his in order to smuggle him into Record Club, which is an albums-forward music club. Anything else would've been too easily dismissed. I think it's easy for me to dismiss Wild at Heart. The title track is really wonderful, a high point of a song. Diamond's voice is as full of life as ever. The album slowly loses steam throughout the rest of its runtime. It's one of those songwriting exercises in which you can easily see the math equations that brought it into existence. His songwriting is the equivalent of a tennis player picking up keys off the floor 1000 times in order to practice their swing. It's swift, flawless, and also rote and lifeless. But then there's Diamond's vocals, which do a lot to cover up the generic lyricism. It all sounds nice, and often doesn't make any sense. I also fear that Neil Diamond's music is always going to sound like Christmas music to me now. I fucked up!
GRADE: 3.5 pukes out of 5
Converge
Converge
Love Is Not Enough — RC Week 375 — 3 pukes out of 5
Hum of Hurt
June 5, 2026
Look, I'm listening to these albums because I have to. I have to due to self-imposed restrictions, that I have to keep up with every Record Club alumni. I also want to. I want to because I like the idea of keeping up with all the artists we've covered, even the ones that have been utterly perplexing to me. I'm listening to the new Converge album because I have to and because I want to. I have to because they made the beguiling decision to release their new album four months after they released the one we covered for RC. I want to because I want to see if anything has changed. How it was before: I have no idea what I'm listening to, I cannot get a grip, but the chaos is fascinating, and occasionally enthralling. How it is now: ehhhhh, pretty much the same. "Punishing" is used as a compliment around these genres; I would describe both of Converge's 2026 albums as "punishing." I don't have enough experience to say how these two albums differ. They are both the same to me. And because of the tight timeframe in between releases, I'll say that I have not had any time to change or grow either. I'm the same guy I was in April 2026. I'm still listening to Converge. I still think of it as chaos. I still kinda like it, and still remained confused.
GRADE: 2.5 pukes out of 5
(Keeping Up)
Adeem the Artist
White Trash Revelry — RC Week 227 — 4.5 pukes out of 5
Anniversary — RC f/u #31 — 4 pukes out of 5
White Trash Revelry — RC Week 227 — 4.5 pukes out of 5
Anniversary — RC f/u #31 — 4 pukes out of 5
notes from inside
February 25, 2026
The self-written Bandcamp description of this album is the most informed I've ever been from such a blurb. It's less an explanation as it is a cry for help. This is a stripped-back album, and it is obvious what it represents. It represents a low point in one's life. It represents an attempt to keep one's head above water. And it represents a pause while Adeem figures their shit out. Some details emerge from that Bandcamp thing, but much is left unsaid. What remains implied is implied in the music itself. This is sad, introspective music, from a human being who has zero sense of which direction is up and which direction is hell below. To give you a better sense of what it sounds like: the album highlight "learning to drive again" is basically a Mountain Goats song. The fact that it sounds like the Mountain Goats and not like Adeem the Artist says, to me, that Adeem the Artist is truly struggling to find their identity. One word sticks out in the blurb: "tokenization." I've wondered that sometimes too, whether Adeem would have found all that (brief, flickering, due for a comeback, whatever) success if it didn't feel good to someone like Jason Isbell to say that they are signal-boosting a talented non-binary country artist. I've wondered the same thing about myself, and my affinity for this artist's work. I think that Adeem themself has thought about it (or else how else to explain the suicide note of "jason isbell b-side"?). All of this means that the album is striking and memorable. It also means that it doesn't have the joy of Adeem's previous work, true. But the desperation remains.
GRADE: 4 pukes out of 5
(Random RCAA News)
- Harry Styles and Radiohead's Thom Yorke sat down in conversation for a Rolling Stone interview series. "Talk Show Host" by Radiohead was the song that Harry Styles lost his virginity to. The intro to "Talk Show Host," to be clear.
- The Raconteurs have reunited! I wasn't clear on the fact that they were broken up. Do bands break up anymore?
- Doechii dropped a dope-ass new song. New album in the works???
- Probably gonna be some intersections between Record Club and the midterm elections coming up. E.g. Kacey Musgraves responding to what's-her-name, the dog killer, regarding Kacey's support of Senate candidate Talarico.
- What's going on with Kelly Clarkson beefing with a boutique store? Feels like a "too online" thing, I don't want to look into it, because I don't like being "too online."
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