Facebook is Full of Fiddling on Monday Nights, Thanks to Della Mae

Della Mae - David McClister

Kimber Ludiker (fiddler, second from right) and Avril Smith (guitarist, far left) dedicate their Monday nights to delivering a “hoedown” for their friends and fans

Desperate to find a concert livestream on a Monday night, I stumbled upon Della Mae, a bluegrass girl group that has been hosting a Facebook Live Hoedown every Monday since COVID-19 sent us all into quarantine. Founded by fiddle player Kimber Ludiker, vocalist/guitarist Celia Woodsmith, and mandolinist Jenni Lyn Gardner, the band has featured various female guitarists, bassists, and singers since its creation in 2009. According to their website, “[Della Mae’s] mission as a band is to showcase top female musicians, and to improve opportunities for women and girls through advocacy, mentorship, programming, and performance.” In a male-dominated music scene and bluegrass genre, they stand out as not only an all-female group performing traditional folk music but also as musicians who promote the well-being of women and girls all over the world. Over the past eleven years, Della Mae has traveled to over 30 different countries, performing their music and inspiring girls to follow their passions, even if it means being one of very few women in a field.

Della Mae has produced four albums and their most recent, “Highlight,” a tribute to sexual assault survivors, came out this past year. Unfortunately, COVID-19 cut their tour short, leaving them without live venues to perform after their concert on March 12th. This obstacle couldn’t stop these vibrant women from making music, though, which is what sparked Monday Night Hoedown. Inspired by other artists who were performing via Facebook Live, Kimber decided to start weekly hoedowns, playing her fiddle and accompanied by Avril Smith on guitar. The duo has persisted, not missing a week since they started back in March, performing bluegrass classics for their fans and friends on Facebook. Showered with praise from people in the comments, Kimber and Avril grinned and played requests for an hour and a half, the notes flying off their instruments as though the strings could sense the musicians’ fingers coming in for a pluck.

My experience watching the livestream was definitely unconventional – my laptop screencast to a TV in a study room on the second floor of an engineering building with one Airpod in my ear and the other in my friend’s – nonetheless, I was immersed in Kimber and Avril’s animated performance. Though talking to a computer screen, the two made me feel welcomed, as though they were treating me to an after-dinner jam session in their home. The tangy tones from the fiddle filled me with memories of campfire songs and Avril’s hearty guitar strumming kept me grounded. Even though these bluegrass tunes were new to me, I was captivated by every long note Kimber played on her fiddle, the warm sound of each pitch enchanting me as she drew her bow across the hearty strings. The two women breezed past notes rapidly, but never letting their cool demeanor fade. Kimber and Avril took turns being featured in each song, Kimber tapping her bow to supplement Avril with a beat and Avril strumming constant chords to back-up Kimber’s sprightly bowing. The music was lively, bringing just about anyone to tap their feet along to the guitar and fiddle.

Between songs, the women answered questions from the comments and greeted friends who frequent the weekly stream. The two were amicable and cheery, asking for requests from those watching and updating us on life changes – such as Kimber’s decision to participate in “Sobe-tober.” Kimber cracked a few jokes, saying that she was “just getting these fingers loosened up,” and apologizing for getting some notes wrong, while Avril reassured her that the wrong notes were simply personal interpretation of the song. The friendly exchanges between Avril and Kimber made me feel like I was part of their friend group and this was just another day with Della Mae. And just when the intermittent conversations seemed to be lasting too long, the pair would decide on a new song, strumming the first few chords and tuning the fiddle before jumping into another high-speed, high-energy number. Had I not been in a study pod, surrounded by strangers cramming for engineering tests, I would have gotten up and danced to the bubbly music that Kimber and Avril played.

One song that stuck with me was “Blue Violet Waltz,” the slowest tune of the set that had a familiar ring to it. Kimber randomly decided to play it, saying that an old friend had taught it to her, but she couldn’t remember the exact name. Luckily there were dozens of bluegrass fanatics in the comments, eager to offer the title of the song so that newbies like me could listen to it again later. The song felt like a lullaby to me – a song that I could drift to sleep to by a fireplace on a cold autumn night. The fiddle shifted seamlessly between bowed notes and plucked notes, the vibrato of the strings perfectly juxtaposed with the playful plucking that followed. While Kimber toyed with different techniques, staccato plucks, taps on the body of her instrument, and classic bow work, Avril kept a steady pace, playing sweet deep chords to cradle the fearless fiddle. Though the fiddle was notable in this piece for its versatility, Avril’s guitar was comforting, supplementing Kimber’s experimentation with gentle and familiar strumming.

Although COVID-19 has hurt performers particularly hard, Della Mae has demonstrated its resilience through their Monday Night Hoedowns. By taking what the musicians already had – a vast repertoire of bluegrass melodies, a loyal fanbase, and a solid social media presence – the band has continued to bring in revenue as well as provide entertainment for its audience. What could have been a hefty obstacle for the group has proven to be a catalyst for community, as the band has established themselves on Patreon and other streaming platforms over quarantine. Unlike a regular tour season, when the band would be on the road every day, traveling to perform for fans all over the country, Della Mae has been able to save themselves the exhaustion – and the gas – by performing on Facebook Live for fans from New Hampshire to Minnesota and beyond. While the experience is nowhere near the same as a live performance, fans get to communicate more intimately with Kimber and Avril during these hoedowns, asking questions and making requests in the comment bar. These weekly concerts provide a unique opportunity for both performer and listener, as Kimber and Avril talk openly about their experiences as musicians producing and performing music. Instead of the often disconnected ambience of a large concert venue, the Facebook Live Hoedown allows members of Della Mae to deliver beautiful songs in an intimate environment.

Della Mae has brilliantly exemplified how to perform during this socially-distant season, adapting sets to the digital age and taking this opportunity to grow closer to its audience. While more popular artists may have more listeners, Della Mae’s underground nature affords them with an intimate connection to those who listen to their music. Though I would love to hear more of their original pieces on the next livestream, the traditional bluegrass tunes highlight Kimber and Avril’s expertise in their instruments. Furthermore, newcomers like me get to hear the duo play the songs that inspire their own composition. If you’re looking for a livestream to start your week off right or just for something to dance along to on a Monday at 8, look no further than Della Mae’s Kimber and Avril’s Monday Night Hoedown.

Less of a Star, More of a Friend: Bob Marley’s Legacy Unpacked

Roger Steffens Has So Much Things To Say In 2017 Book on Bob Marley

So Much Things to Say - Roger Steffens

Roger Steffens’ 2017 biography, So Much Things To Say: The Oral History of Bob Marley, dives into the life of Bob Marley from the perspective of those closest to him. Contrary to many other biographical works done on musicians, Steffens’ book makes Marley into a person, a friend, even. And for people like me, whose exposure to reggae is limited to the Arthur theme song and familiarity with a few Bob Marley songs through a “Reggae for Kids” CD from my youth, Steffens’ writing is understandable and intoxicating. With contextual tidbits sprinkled in between page-long anecdotes from band members and friends, So Much Things to Say pays homage to Marley through an intimate and accurate account of his life. As Marley earned his fame through his congenial and positive personality, Steffens returns to those who knew his kindness best of all. Steffens’ book, filled with the history of reggae and tales of Marley’s life, offers an honest look at what made the reggae superstar such a unique performer and so intoxicating to audiences.

In this great future, you can’t forget your past – “No Woman, No Cry”

The book starts in Jamaica during Marley’s youth. Born in Nine Mile, Jamaica to a single mother, Cedella Booker, Marley lived day by day, finding joy in the mundane. He never saw his poverty and familial situation as a setback, however, and found community among others in similar economic situations. As we enter Marley’s life in Trench Town, Kingston, we hear from Peter Tosh and Bunny Wailer, childhood friends of his who would become the original Wailers. In Trench Town and other slums of Kingston, music was an outlet for antsy youth and adults, providing a channel for energy that would have otherwise been spent on school or a career. “Among the only ways that law-abiding people were able to escape were through sports or music,” Steffens informs readers, “and the area was known as an incubator of great talents in both fields.”

And I hope you like jammin’ too, ain’t no rules, ain’t no vow, we can do it anyhow – “Jammin’”

Junior Braithwaite, one of Marley’s vocalists, remembers the original band, before their music career became serious, saying “the Wailers was like just a singing group, a harmonizing group. We had nothing to do with instruments.” When Bob, Bunny, Peter, Junior, and Beverly began making music together, they were just kids having fun. Their music was from the soul, the financial barriers that barred them from other activities had no influence on the songs they could create through the vessel of the voice.  Led by Joe Higgs, a respected singer who was integral in the foundation of Jamaican reggae, they weren’t always trying to create something beautiful. Singing was simply something fun to fill their days. Alvin “Seeco” Patterson, a percussionist who grew up with Marley, wasn’t a part of the group but knew of Marley’s love for music, saying “it was a spiritual thing, from he was very young he was planning to sing to people.” According to Junior Braithwaite, “to us, [making music] was just fun” and in Jamaica, “singing was just something that everybody needed to do…It wasn’t like something special that no one else couldn’t have done. And while Marley enjoyed singing casually and with his friends, he wanted to do more. He knew his voice was meant to be heard around the world.

Most of them come from Trench Town, we free the people with music – “Trench Town”

The first studio album released by the band, “The Wailing Wailers,” was a hit within the Jamaican community. “Simmer Down,” the first and most notable single off the album, echoed off of radios all over Kingston. Beverly Kelso describes the track’s popularity, saying “It was like Trench Town light up when ‘Simmer Down’ come on the air…Everybody radio turn up blast high.” Perhaps “Simmer Down” was so irresistible because of its casual nature, obviously the product of a bunch of kids in Trench Town jamming with one another above unembellished instrumentals. The track is raw and understated when compared to Marley’s more well-known tracks that he produced in his later years. But then again, Marley’s career was never about singing “correctly.” Joe Higgs, Marley’s idol and mentor, noted Toots’ (of reggae legends Toots and the Maytals) reaction to Marley’s first album release, “Toots turned to his partner, listen to this, this is the group that’s going to give us a hard time, and they can’t even find their key.” Molded by the sunny beaches and carefree lifestyle of Jamaica, Marley’s music has been loved for its easy-going tone and powerful lyrics, more than the complexity and accuracy of the composition.

Don’t let them change ya! Or even rearrange ya! – “Could You Be Loved”

The middle of the book follows Bob and the Wailers as they gain fame, releasing new works and touring internationally. The band members realized the impact that they could have upon the ideologies of those who listened to their music. Marley wanted to spread positivity to his audience, so when political conflict was getting worse in Jamaica and the Wailers were asked to perform for Edward Seaga, who was running for office at the time, he was torn between remaining impartial and representing his community. George Barrett, a reggae radio DJ and cousin of the Barrett brothers who played with Marley as the Wailers, explained how Marley decided that he would perform for the candidate, “Seaga was representing Western Kingston. Bob lived in those areas. So Bob didn’t want any conflict…his music was beatin’ down this politics that was breaking up the community.” To Marley, he had a duty to spread Rastafari, which included preaching peace and unity. Promoting a political figure contradicted his beliefs and he didn’t want to be divisive. Years later, as tensions grew in Jamaica and violence became unbearable, Marley realized that he needed to represent the community that shaped him. The slums of Kingston were being destroyed and people were beaten daily; Marley, a beacon of hope with a large following, was obligated to be the voice of the disenfranchised.

Free yourselves from mental slavery – “Redemption Song”

During 1973, Bob Marley had a secret relationship with Esther Anderson, one of many affairs that the star would have during his short life. A gorgeous and outspoken Jamaican actress, Anderson helped Marley begin to think about politics and revolution, telling Steffens, “I was teaching Bob how to be a rebel, based on what I learned from living with Marlon Brando for seven years.” From their conversation on a plane from Haiti to Jamaica, Marley and Anderson wrote one of Marley’s timeless anthems, “Get Up Stand Up” which would go on to inspire communities globally to speak up about injustice and fight for their rights. During the seventies the Wailers began churning out songs with bolder and more controversial messages than their previous Rasta-filled tracks. Lee Jaffe, an American artist who lived with the Wailers in Kingston and has written extensively on their music, speaks to Steffens about helping Marley write “I Shot the Sheriff.” “[Jaffe] came up with the line, ‘All along in Trench Town, the jeeps go round and round. ‘Cause the police and military drove jeeps.” Jaffe goes on to explain why this line was so important to him, “I was thinking of…what it was like for the poor people, the sufferers.” Not only does this anecdote highlight the evolution of the Wailers’ lyrical complexity, but also the importance of collaboration in Marley’s composition process. Another politically-motivated song, “Burnin’ and Lootin’” took inspiration from a traumatic event that Joe Higgs experienced, “he had awakened to find the police surrounding and raiding his house in Trench Town. So [Esther] told Bob about it and said that we have to write about it.” The Wailers had the freedom to make comments on the political and social landscape around them, and did so through catchy tunes and funky guitar lines.

Get up, stand up, stand up for your right – “Get Up, Stand Up”

One of the biggest catalysts for Marley’s success in the United States was his rebellious spirit. His new songs filled with empowerment arrived in the seventies, during a time when young Americans were gathering in hundreds to protest injustices. Gayle McGarrity, a friend of Marley’s who taught Marley about the political institutions and inequality around the world, was originally a fan of the group, telling Steffens “because we were all so into very leftist, revolutionary stages of our lives, this group just became the articulators of our deepest, most innermost political feelings.” He gained respect from audiences who had radical ideas but needed someone to tell them, get out there and change the world! “Marley became the voice of third world pain and resistance…” states Jon Pareles, chief music critic for the New York Times,“outsiders everywhere heard Marley as their own champion.” Marley was never performing for the fame nor the money. He was a kind of prophet for the communities of oppressed individuals all over the world, who could listen to his music and hear a man singing for them.

Until the philosophy which hold one race superior and another inferior is finally and permanently discredited and abandoned, everywhere is war – “War”

Using their role as international stars, the Wailers produced music that encouraged empathy and equality, even addressing specific conflicts in different parts of the world. According to Gilly Gilbert, Bob’s personal chef and good friend, “Don’t business whether your color white, or your color black or pink or blue. No racism in Bob at all.” So when the Rhodesia Bush War was coming to an end in Zimbabwe, Marley and the Wailers packed up their things and flew to Africa, determined to provide a voice for the black community of Zimbabwe, who had risen up and won. Steffens describes the role of Marley’s music in Zimbabwe during the conflict, saying “Marley’s song ‘Zimbabwe,’ though banned, had become a rallying cry among the freedom fighters.” Marley’s performance in the newly independent Zimbabwe became a prime example of his role as a figure of hope. When looking at the stage prior to his performance, “I saw him cry,” Dera Tompkins, the Wailers’ unofficial tour guide for their Zimbabwe trip, recounts, “and it was because he loved revolution and he loved revolutionaries. Because he was really like them.” Though he had the privilege of being a light-skinned man in Jamaica, Marley grew up in poverty and saw people close to him suffer as the result of their social status. His Zimbabwe performance was a powerful experience, a reward to those who did as he encouraged and rose up against their oppression.

Forget your troubles and dance, forget your sorrows and dance – “Them Belly Full (But We Hungry)”

In the final pages of the book, Marley’s friends and managers share their experiences with the cancer-stricken musician. It was the eighties and we learn about the composition of Marley’s final album, Uprising, a solemn compilation of tracks that encapsulated the hopelessness that the Wailers were experiencing at that point. “It was filled with intimations of mortality,” Steffens describes the slow-moving final work, “and [in ‘Work’] he counts off his final days.” With each page, tragedy comes closer and closer, as the Wailers begin their world tour. During the New York leg of the tour, Marley’s bandmates were finally made aware of his illness when he “had an epileptic-type fit, foaming at the mouth” in Central Park. It’s heartbreaking to read the experiences of the Wailers and friends of Marley’s when they realized his condition. Dessie Smith, Marley’s personal assistant and friend, said that after Marley’s first visit to the doctor, “he was just like out of it…he was just like limp. He wasn’t saying nothing.” Though not everyone knew the details of his illness at the time, those around him saw the once happy-go-lucky Marley become depressed and empty. In Pittsburgh, the Wailers decided they would perform for the final time, though according to Junior Marvin, guitarist and singer in the group, “if [Marley] could have done a dozen more shows after that, he would have done it.” It came down to pressure from those around him for Marley to agree to make Pittsburgh his last show, revealing the enormous impact that the singer’s friendships had on his career.

One good thing about music: when it hits you feel no pain – “Trench Town Rock”

Marley’s health got worse, and with it went his happiness. Shipped off to Dr. Josef Issels, who had a renowned yet controversial cancer clinic in the German Alps, Marley was on his own in the antithesis of his hometown. Cindy Breakspeare and Rita Marley, Marley’s girlfriend and wife, “felt that Mexico would have been a better place, because we felt the climate and the culture, he just would have been more comfortable there.” Hearing those who cared for Marley the most lament about the way he was spending his final days, it is obvious that just as music brought Marley closer to people, these relationships were integral to his state of mind. Zema, an American reggae singer who visited her mother at the clinic and, in turn, met Marley during his last few days, remembers Marley expressing his love for Jamaica, “he spoke slow and pensive and described the beauty of Jamaica…he made you feel like you were right there in Jamaica even though there was three feet of snow outside.” On Marley’s birthday, the two played guitars and sang together, “Bob didn’t play very long or very loud…just jamming…I got the impression he wasn’t doing much of that anymore.” Perhaps being surrounded by those who demonstrated their love for Marley through music would have helped the ill musician heal. He told his son, Stephen Marley, “Just sing that song there, money can’t buy life.” Until the end, Marley was never overcome by his wealth and fame. He simply wanted to sing for people, sharing important messages and spreading love.

I wanna love ya, every day and every night – “Is This Love”

The last chapter of the book, “Marley’s Legacy and the Wailers’ Favorite Songs” encapsulates the impact that friends and family had on the musical talents of Marley. Since Steffens is a collector of reggae materials, he has been able to host the Wailers at his Reggae Archives. In 1987, Steffens writes, “we looked at three hours of videos that have been held back from the public.” Then, he asked each member to share their favorite tracks. Junior Marvin’s favorite was “War,” since “every time Bob sing ‘War’ is like the first time him ever sing it, and the last time.” Al Anderson, guitarist, preferred “Roots,” because he watched Bob write it, and said “I just hadn’t seen anyone work like that, and use all the elements that were in front of him, and put them into songs like that.” “Bob wrote his songs in community,” Steffens tells us, “the band would sit around on the porch or in the studio and people would throw lines at him.” From the very beginning, music was a means of connecting with others for Marley and the rest of the Jamaican community. And until his dying days, Marley’s need to bond with others was evident. Bob Marley’s music has lived on into the 21st century, not because of unmeasurable talent, but because it was always from the heart. Every song, every note, every rhythm, is the product of friendship and beckons us to connect with one another. For Marley maximized the power of music; he asked us to take a break for just a few minutes and listen to the wailing coming from Jamaica.

Sylvan Esso Is a Product of Love. The Duo’s Tiny Desk Concert is Captivatingly Cute.

In an increasingly distant world, Sylvan Esso welcomes us into their home and their minds through a coffee table performance of three tracks

Indie duo Sylvan Esso released their third studio album, “Free Love,” back in September. Today we revisit their appearance on NPR’s Tiny Desk (Home) Concert in May, performing three songs from their most recent studio album, “What Now.” Sylvan Esso is the electronic indie pop lovechild of singer Amelia Meath and producer Nick Sanborn. Blend Meath’s buttery, breathy voice with Sanborn’s biting beats, and you get songs that are addictively satisfying and full of personality. Sylvan Esso beautifully balances the vocals and the beats beneath them, never letting one overshadow the other.

The duo opens their concert with “Die Young,” and new listeners are immediately launched into their eccentric sound. The two, seated on their blue couch with dozens of audio contraptions atop a coffee table in front of them, exchange playful glances while nonchalantly performing this song about love rescuing someone from suicide. Meath’s distinctive voice shines through over the layers of beats produced by Sanborn, who nods his head along with her. Each time the beat drops on the chorus, we feel a shift in energy from the two, from comfortable to entranced in song, enjoying one another’s company and their creative product. A distant cousin of the autotuned and edited track on the album, this performance appears vulnerable and even more lovely because of it.

After “Die Young” concludes, Meath introduces the duo coolly, starting the next song, “Rewind,” which is, according to her, “about watching TV, and being a kid.” It is now only Meath in the frame, controlling the beats and backing track on her own. Though this song is slower than the first, Meath still delivers a passionate performance, leaning into the camera as though she’s telling the audience a story. Sanborn enters the frame again, only partially, when he grabs his guitar from the corner. He follows his addition of guitar with a reduction of beats, and Meath accompanies the minimalism of this section, lowering her volume. Though this performance is excellent, Meath and Sanborn’s enchantment with one another is what makes their music alluring, so not seeing them interact during “Rewind” leaves listeners feeling unsatisfied.

Sylvan Esso’s final song, “Radio,” is the most popular track of “What Now” thanks to its danceability and catchy chorus. Quite possibly the most charming moment of this performance is when Sanborn accidentally starts the wrong backing track and Meath smoothly says to the camera, “hold on a second,” while Sanborn prepares the right sounds. She counts him in, putting on a cute British accent and looking lovingly at her husband. The couple reveals their goofy side, grinning and giggling with each other as Meath shows off her dance moves. This track is particularly fun, since both Sanborn and Meath are toying with their parts, building upon one another to see what works and what doesn’t. In a way, this is a glimpse of their creative ingenuity, which feels intimate in a world of finely-tuned final products.

December: A Playlist for Winter Sunsets

“Evening Song” – Cornell University Glee Club

At around 6:15 PM every day, from the narrow streets of Collegetown to the gothic towers of West Campus, there’s one sound that will always ring true: the Cornell chimes ending the evening concert with “Evening Song.” About fifteen minutes later, the Cornell Glee Club and Chorus come together on Ho Plaza, arm in arm, to sing the same piece as we watch the sunset grow and then fade over Libe Slope. Non-Cornellian passerbys may think it strange that the tune of “O Christmas Tree” or “O Tannenbaum” plays every day of the year, but Cornellians know better. This song represents generations of Cornellians coming together “when the sun fades far away in the crimson of the west” and giving thanks for friends, family, and memories. Looking for a sign to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve left them? This is it. – EMILY HURWITZ

“Midnight Rider” – Gregg Allman

December 8th marks what would be Gregg Allman’s seventy-third birthday, so it is fitting for one of his classics to make an appearance on this month’s playlist. A more laid back take on the 1970 Allman Brothers Band hit, Gregg Allman’s solo version of “Midnight Rider” digs deep with its raw and stripped-down arrangement. It is the first track off of his 1973 Laid Back album, and he takes the previously deemed untouchable masterpiece down a darker road. While the song does build throughout the piece with an orchestra rave-up, its overall tone still remains gloomy and solemn, a perfect soundtrack for a reflection overlooking a winter sunset. “Midnight Rider” fades out to a silence, leaving the listener inspired to ride out into the sunset on a winter evening. “I’m not gon’ let ’em catch me, no / Not gon’ let ’em catch the midnight rider.” – SPENCER NACHMAN

“Shake Your Lonely” –  Twin Peaks

East Coast Park, Singapore 

Shake Your Lonely by Twin Peaks is an indie-pop, folk-inspired tune for a tranquil evening. Cradled by the steady amble of the drums, the syrupy electric guitars sketch a melody which goes down easily, drowsy and mellow. Frontman Cadien James’s smooth, winsome crooning is swathed in airy, shimmering upper-register harmonies as he makes the earnest promise that however the day passed, “it’s gonna be good.” Twin Peaks paints a soundscape like a sunset haze, glowing russet gold and serene, gently easing into indigo as the song draws to a close, taking the day’s cares with it. – LYNN HONG

“Mess” – Noah Kahan

Cornellians are full of ambition, always working towards achieving some goal. In his song “Mess,” Noah Kahan writes an honest depiction of his own wistful longing for the life of normalcy prior to reaching his goal of success and fame. Kahan’s raw lyrics combined with his distinct, husky voice and gentle strums of the guitar give an acoustic, folksy vibe not often found in pop songs. He sings “I would wipe myself clean of what I knew was unimportant” and “I paid off my debts but found the world boring” to remind us all of our roots. It gives off a nostalgic feel for every person’s own happy moments like kicking back on Libe Slope with friends or running through Collegetown together to catch a TCAT. There is a sense of comfort knowing that even this up-and-coming artist gets told “oh, you’re a mess, you’re a mess, good God” sometimes. – MIA GLASS

“Talking Slow” – Dylan Jordan

Filled with reverb and echoing sirens, Dylan Jordan’s “Talking Slow” elicits a feeling of nostalgia from every listener. The melody is comfortingly simple, and supplemented by layers of sounds, from a chorus of vocals to steady cymbals to the few strums of a guitar. Synthesized instruments and the ad-libbed vocals backing Dylan’s voice paint a cloudy dreamscape, complementing the story being told, “You were mine, at one point in time.” As a college student home for the holidays, I find myself torn between the joy of being with my family once again and the longing that I feel for my life at school. “Talking Slow” offers solace to those who are yearning to return to their independence, as Dylan reassures himself quietly “I am fine,” and we are reminded that we aren’t the only ones homesick in a new kind of way. – GRACE STASOLLA

“Closing Time” – Semisonic

Last Spring, I drove away from Cornell as a defeated man. Coming off the abrupt cancellation of our season and the school year, I had nothing left to give. Making matters worse, I was worried about the Canada-USA border, and getting stuck in a game of strange geopolitics that would not allow me to get home. Sulking away from Ithaca down the west side of Cayuga Lake, I gave up the fight and played closing time on repeat. Now, staring down the barrel of my last semester in Ithaca, the sun is setting on my own time in the finger lakes. Closing time indeed. – JON DONVILLE

“anything” – Adrianne Lenker

Without the rest of her main band Big Thief contributing to the indie folk sound, Adrianne Lenker plays alone with her acoustic guitar and mousy, nasally, close voice. The song begins with “staring at the barrel of the hot sun / shining with the sheen of a shotgun,” but soon delves into friends’ names and specific moments such as hanging her girlfriend’s jeans with clothespins and Christmas Eve with her family. Written in a cabin during lockdown, Lenker captures a relationship before its end (most of the new album songs is about her breakup), a winding melody guiding us through soft moments with a lover: “I wanna sleep in your car while you’re driving / lay in your lap while I’m crying.” The instrumental is sparse, only a light tapping of percussion with Lenker’s enchanting guitar plucking. “anything” feels as if it was conjured right out of nature, a fitting tune for gazing at a sunset, wrapped in a warm coat. – ANDIE CHAPMAN

“Chicago” – Sufjan Stevens

The center of Sufjan Steven’s 2006 masterpiece Illinois is a balancing act between orchestral crashes and isolation. After each instrumental build of horns, bells, cymbals, and layers of strings, culminating with a wall of choir vocals, the bottom of the song falls out, leaving Sufjan alone above simple piano chords. There, he begins his song: “I fell in love again, all things go. All things go.” – MILES GREENBLATT

“Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me” – Elton John

I don’t often roll down the windows, push the car stereo to the max, and let the rest of suburbia hear my undoubtedly ugly singing voice, but that’s just the Elton effect. Listen to this song at sunset and emotion will wash over you like Elton’s immaculate backing vocals wash over the instrumentation. Whether we want more time, more opportunities, or just a little more daylight in these dim December days, we can all relate to Elton’s plea to not let the sun go down on him. – JONAH LEVINE

“Nimrod (from “Enigma Variations”)” – Edward Elgar

Just as a sunset never fails to make me pause and stare, “Nimrod” imposes the same effect, never failing to make me stop everything I’m doing and solely internalizing this emotive work. The whispering awakening of violins lures in any listener who happens to stumble upon it. And just as there is a brief moment of a sunset, right before the sun dips below the horizon when the rays are most intense, “Nimrod” burgeons toward an impassioned climax, sustained by the restless roll of the timpani and blaring brass section before ending with a wistful egress. – PATRICIA KU

“Tag und Nacht (Day and Night)” – J. S. Bach

This aria for bass voice comes from a cantata of 1708 for the investiture of the Town Council in the German City of Mühlhausen. Written and performed when Bach was only twenty-two years old, the grandly ambitious work could be thought of as a senior thesis (though Bach never had the luxury of attending university): the cantata is full of newly acquired knowledge, original ideas, brave experiment—and new and beautiful music. The assuring tranquility of “Day and Night” projects both outward-looking wonder and interior reflection—those paradoxical emotions that sunsets so often inspire. In the aria’s instrumental introduction, pairs of flutes and oboes circle around one another, like the sun and earth, their motions marking the day and its end. The bass voice enters with a descending figure that divides the octave in half, as if chronicling the progress of the hours. As the piece moves calmly, inexorably on, we hear the passing of time and the moments—lingering, yet fleeting—between day and night.—DAVID YEARSLEY 

Alma Mater – Cornell University Glee Club

As we come to the end of a historic semester, we can’t help but reminisce in semesters past when attending class wasn’t a potential health hazard. What better way to do so than by listening to the iconic Alma Mater performed by none other than the Cornell Glee Club. A culmination of the best musicians and singers on campus, the stellar performance is sure to make you think of late nights at Olin Library, or long grueling walks up the Slope. The interplay between the various voice parts creates a powerful and resonant sound that is remembered by generations of Cornilieans. The perfect anthem to listen to as we come to the bittersweet ending of this momentous semester. – AARIK IBANEZ

The Dazzling Betty Wright’s Miami-Soul Legacy

Betty Wright’s Soulful Singing Rings On, Even After Her Passing

Betty Wright, Getty Images

 

Betty Wright, the sweet soul singer whose fierce vocals brought Miami funk into the public light and whose musical prowess catapulted the careers of hip-hop legends such as Rick Ross and DJ Khaled, passed away this past May. The 66-year old singer had been battling cancer for months, but her honey-sweet voice will live on for years to come.

Born in Miami in 1953 as Bessie Regina Norris, Betty Wright was immediately surrounded by song. At the age of three, Wright was singing with her family in a gospel group known as “the Echoes of Joy.” “We used to sing in local churches and halls,” said Wright in a 1972 interview, “and we used to make demo discs of some of the religious songs and we’d sell them when ever we appeared at a local hall.” Though she was the youngest, “she could not only sing on key but had a strong, loud voice,” said her brother Philip in an interview with The Glasgow Herald.

Wright’s musical career began early, at around 12 or 13 years old, after she was discovered by two local music producers, Clarence Reid and Willie Clarke. The founder of the small Miami record label Deep City, Clarke heard Wright singing along to “Summertime” by Billie Stewart in his combined record store and recording studio, and knew she had a voice of gold. “The record was down low,” Clarke recounted hearing Wright’s voice for the first time, “but she had overpowered [Stewart’s] lead voice. She just shut down our rehearsal.” She recognized Clarke from the times he had “pick[ed] up Philip for a session,” so she gladly accepted his invitation to sing for him. Wright initially faced opposition from her mother, who was deeply religious and didn’t approve of any music other than gospel. Eventually, however, “she changed her mind and she signed over her agreement and I made my first recordings,” Wright told John Abbey of Blues & Soul in 1972.

In 1967 Wright released her first album, My First Time Around, solidifying herself as a powerful performer at just 14. Wright’s voice chirps on “Funny How Love Grows Cold” and croons on “Sweet Lovin’ Daddy,” demonstrating how versatile the young singer was, even at the very beginning of her career. On the slower “Watch out Love,” Wright’s voice smoothly transitions between notes, fluttering in and out of vibrato before letting out hearty belts. And “I Can’t Stop My Heart” is a timeless ballad that begs listeners to take their paramour by the hand for a late-night dance in one another’s arms. It’s hard to imagine that Wright was able to produce such mature and distinct music at such a young age, but “Wright’s vocal power allowed her to ‘pass’ for a much older singer” which led “[her songwriters to] cast Wright as a worldly woman” according to Oliver Wang, a music reviewer for NPR. “Girls Can’t Do What The Guys Do,” the hit of this first album, features the line “Girls, you can’t do what the guys do – no – and still be a lady,” alluding to the sexist ideology that men can (and should) be promiscuous, but women cannot. Wright entered the music industry by testing the limits of what women should sing about, setting a new standard for the topics of songs for female singers.

Wright’s next big hit came with her 1972 album, I Love the Way You Love, when the song “Clean Up Woman” topped charts. Though Wright said she “didn’t like it too much at first,” the record was an immediate success. Wright credited this to its danceability, saying that “People could dance so easily to it – especially the soul sisters! Now [it’s] sold more than a million copies.” Though people originally mistook the song’s risqué lyrics as Wright’s claim that she could steal a woman’s man and be “a clean up woman,” she reflected upon the lyrics in a 1977 interview with Rolling Stone’s J Swenson and denied that they encourage any raunchy activity, “The song is not telling women to be sinful, but to watch out not to lose their husbands to the ‘Clean Up Woman.’” Whether people agreed with the story of Wright’s song or not, “Clean Up Woman” became “a top 10 hit on multiple charts, and it directly inspired Wright’s future singles ‘Baby Sitter’ (1972), ‘Outside Woman’ (1972) and ‘Secretary’ (1974)” according to Wang. In a 1972 Variety piece, Wright is described as “[adding] her own unique ‘soul’ dimension and some uptempo things that had the room vibrating.” Even in 2020, Betty Wright fans can find videos of her performing this memorable tune on television programs from the 1970s, surrounded by other young people, grooving her smooth vocals. And artists – such as Chance the and Mary J. Blige –  have since sampled the catchy opening guitar riff continuing the legacy of Wright’s career-advancing song about infidelity.

Betty Wright

Wright’s next big hits came two years later, on her 1974 album, Danger High Voltage. “Where Is The Love,” a track brimming with the unique sounds of the Miami music scene – beginning with poignant trumpets and energetic bongos – gained popularity thanks to its danceability. As the disco scene emerged, Wright’s Miami funk-infused soul tracks were distinct enough to garner attention and similar enough to disco to draw in diverse crowds. In a 1977 interview with David Nathan of Blues & Soul, Wright explained, “I can sing whatever I want – it doesn’t have to be blues or funk…But the most important thing of all is that it comes straight from the heart, that whatever we do is ‘for real.’” Similarly, “Shoorah! Shoorah!” was a crowd favorite, with its piercing brass line, funky beats, and clapping on the chorus.  In 1975, however, New Musical Express’s Roger St. Pierre stated that “a lot of radio stations have flipped over ‘Shoorah, Shoorah’ and gone for the ballad flip, ‘Tonight Is The Night’.” The latter was perhaps Wright’s first expression of her own story, telling an intimate tale of a young girl preparing to lose her virginity. Wang describes the intimacy in this track brilliantly: “there’s a candor and aching vulnerability that felt more authentically personal.” Wright’s live recording of the song (on her 1978 album Betty Wright Live!) revealed the reality of the track, as she told the audience, “I never intended recording this song. It was a personal poem, that is until the day my producer happened to thumb through the pages of my notebook.” The song still stands as a beautiful ode to womanhood through words and music.

The album that signaled Wright’s transition from young star to mature artist was This Time For Real, released in 1977 and filled with songs about her husband and newborn daughter. This record came at a time when Wright had decided to connect with her faith after being separated from it since entering the music industry. After winning a Grammy award and being recognized for her talent, Wright demonstrated her newfound introspectiveness and artistry in This Time For Real. During this time, as well, she had begun to dabble in producing, working with renowned producer Danny Sims to produce singles for up and coming artists. She told David Nathan of Blues & Soul in 1978 that this new role “will help me be more selective about my work. I know the difference between ‘hot’ and ‘cold’ as a record artist and when you’re hot, you can decide what you want more, be more choosy, pace yourself better.” Wright’s personality shone through on this album of slower tracks, particularly on “Brick Grits” and “That Man of Mine.” “‘Brick Grits,’” Wright told Rolling Stone, “is a little three-minute autobiography, I didn’t get a chance to learn how to cook or iron when I was a child…But my husband loved me enough to put up with me while I learned.” About “That Man of Mine,” Wright said, “When I was recording this album I was six months pregnant, I was really big, and all my friends were telling me how my eyes were shining…I wrote, ‘That Man of Mine’ as an explanation of that, because I realized I was really exuding that happiness.” Listening to these songs now, you would have no idea that Wright was six months pregnant, hearing her float in the whistle register in between hearty belts. Throughout her career, Wright demonstrated her resilience as a performer, delivering top-notch vocals as a child and even during her first pregnancy.

Betty Wright, Getty Images

In 1985, Wright formed her own label, Ms. B Records, but continued to produce her own music with TK Records (the former Deep City). Wright’s music has stayed true to her style throughout the decades, while still incorporating the trends of the time. “No Pain, (No Gain)” (off of the 1988 album Mother Wit) featured the frequently-used snares and synthesized backing line of the eighties, and “It’s The Little Things” (off of the 1993 album B-Attitudes) exuded the sound of the nineties, with a steady drumbeat and tambourine complementing Wright’s seductive singing. Her 2011 album, Betty Wright: The Movie, perfectly blended Wright’s soul style with the sounds of the 2010s and featured popular hip-hop artists such as Snoop Dogg and Lil Wayne. The middle-aged Wright hadn’t lost any of her passion or skill and even dabbled in rap on “Old Songs.” Perhaps because of her older age, Wright’s belting seems fuller on this album. They ache with experience and knowledge…the result of Wright’s years of singing and producing music that is entirely her own. Her legacy lives on through her pupils and friends, Lil Wayne, DJ Khaled, and Joss Stone (to name a few). In a New Yorker interview in 2014, Wright spoke of her work with hip-hop artists, saying “You know, they are somebody’s children, and I’m somebody’s momma, so we have a really good kinship. I ain’t trying to be in their sandbox – I built the sandbox, but I watch ‘em play in it.” By “[teaching] them breathing and stamina,” Wright transformed hip-hop hopefuls into impassioned rappers with impeccable flow. Most notably, Wright’s raspy butterscotch vocals were featured in Rick Ross and Kanye West’s “Sanctified,” which was recorded at midnight by a tired Wright at the pleading request of DJ Khaled. Hearing the song now, Wright’s aching voice evoked her fulfilling singing career. And juxtaposed next to Rick Ross’s rap, Wright had given hip-hop her blessing.

Betty Wright was a woman full of love, not only for song, but for everyone she worked with. In the same New Yorker interview, she said, “As long as you keep yourself in love with people, you can transcend time.” And her love surely remains strong in the hearts of all whom she touched with her voice, whether they be fellow musicians or simply those who danced along to “Clean Up Woman.”

Big Gigantic: A Tiny Miniscule Attempt at a COVID-19 Concert

 

Big Gigantic – Artists

Dominic Lalli (saxophonist) and Jeremy Salken (drummer) make up the technofunk duo, Big Gigantic

As I sat in my common room, alone at 2 AM on a Saturday night, watching the 2020 Bonnaroo live stream (a virtual version of the popular Tennessee festival) and trying to mimic the ambiance of a concert with my roommates’ projector complemented by our fairy lights in strobe mode, I was only further reminded of the strangeness of watching a virtual concert. I was no fool, I knew there was no way to replicate a concert by watching a YouTube live stream, no matter how large the screen. Concerts are about the crowd you’re with, the friends you make, and the ability to be present with an artist whom you love. The headliners of the evening, Big Gigantic, are known for their larger-than-life beat drops and unique combination of jazz and EDM elements. The set, which consisted of the jazzy, electropop duo playing for an hour in front of a green screen, was disingenuous and lackluster, delivering a disappointing experience to both fans and Bonnaroo diehards alike.

The failure of Big Gigantic’s set began with the duo’s lack of engagement with the music. Sure, they bopped their heads to their music and Dominic Lalli, on saxophone, did a few little jigs with his feet, but the two of them were so stationary that I felt awkward trying to dance to their music, which on its own is perfectly danceable. Had the duo been playing jazz or folk, I could have excused their stagnation, but as funky, electropop musicians, their performance requires at least a shimmy. Even Jeremy Salken, though restricted by his drum set, could have delivered a little head roll. The duo’s stale performance brought down my energy level and was ill-fitting when paired with their upbeat music.

The visual elements of Big Gigantic’s performance also screamed “we are in a studio and playing this music for an invisible audience.” Various brightly colored kaleidoscopic and neon backgrounds rotated throughout the set and a Vaseline-coated glow arose from behind the two men as they played their instruments, building a wall between the real and the fabricated. Their attempt to replicate a stage experience was so frustratingly different from watching a band playing amongst visual effects on a stage, on screens around them. If the duo had embraced the intimate setting and tailored their performance to it, their set would have worked. Avid music fans know that study sessions and NPR’s Tiny Desk Concerts can highlight artists’ skills through a cozy atmosphere. In Big Gigantic’s set, however, the intense graphics and the green screen only served as a reminder to me that I was in a dorm room, watching a live stream.

Just when I thought “maybe I can envision myself at a concert if I just close my eyes,” Lalli would speak into his poor-quality microphone and draw attention to the fact that the entire experience was virtual. His voice was muffled and radio-like, nothing like the echoing speech of a performer at a stadium. What made it notably worse was when he tried to get a call and response going with his non-existent audience, gesturing to the camera every time viewers were supposed to echo him. If the duo had embraced their virtual space and adapted a set to suit the circumstances, there would be no awkward moments of open-ended calls and responses. CloZee, another EDM artist who had preceded the duo with her set, did a fantastic job tailoring her performance to the virtual sphere. Omitting herself from the screen, CloZee featured psychedelic visuals that changed color and speed based on the music she was performing. By embracing her inability to replicate a stage experience, she allowed attendees to immerse themselves in the artistic vision of her music. The most of CloZee that appeared was her shadow during parts of the set, allowing the focus to be on her music. Had Big Gigantic given their audience to have a chance to be immersed in the music, I may have imagined myself at a concert, with the booming bass and tantalizing treble of their songs. But as soon as Lalli decided to interject, the guise that Bonnaroo was intending to achieve completely crumbled.

While it is uplifting to see artists and music festivals trying to create free virtual concerts during a pandemic, the execution of these events is too often fabricated and condescending. People attend concerts for more than flashy lights and acknowledgment from musicians, we go so that we can hear our favorite artists deliver their creations directly to us. We don’t need all the bells and whistles, just two musicians, instruments in hand, pouring their soulful sounds into our open ears.

November: A Pick-Me-Up Playlist

“Dora” – Tierra Whack

One of the most exciting rappers working today released her first single of the year, an anthem celebrating Gucci sheets, going vegan, living on the beach, and leveling up in all areas (mostly financial). Bouncy hi-hats and a casual flow give way to immense talent and just enough optimism to make the future look bright, at least for two and a half minutes.—MILES GREENBLATT

 

“Little Drummer Boy  (feat. Mzansi Youth Choir)” – Leslie Odom Jr.

The release of Hamilton star Leslie Odom Jr.’s 2020 holiday album resuscitates Little Drummer Boy from the catalog of overplayed Christmas music. The invigorating, alluring voices of 50 young choristers of the Mzansi Youth Choir sprinkled with an anticipating drum beat generates a refreshing gusto to the 1941 American tune. And while there’s nothing wrong with listening to Christmas tunes before Thanksgiving, it does help that the advent of distinct genres of pop, R&B, and traditional South African choral music make the song a suitable listen for anytime of the year. You’d never expect the bitter and green-eyed Aaron Burr to be so full of holiday cheer.—PATRICIA KU

 

“Probably Up (Live in SF)” – Lawrence

The soft, sweet trickle of piano notes leads you in, but you’d be jumping the gun to characterize this song as soft or tender. Any sentimentality is shattered by the horn line, which is elevated by punchy jabs at an electric organ. Add in a tight beat and the staccato tease of a guitar and you’ve got one serious funk groove. Drawing energy from the audience, Clyde Lawrence coats the tune in a warm, throaty wail that won’t fail to stave off your impending winter woes.—JONAH LEVINE

 

“I Wanna Get Better” – Bleachers

There are certain songs that beg you to dance, transforming your mundane life into an early-2000s rom-com montage, and Bleachers’ “I Wanna Get Better” is the pick-me-up we all need sometimes. Each time the choppy piano starts to play, my head prepares to bop and my pulse quickens, the booming drums enveloping me in energy. Though the lyrics detail moments of hopelessness and fear: “And I’ve trained myself to give up on the past ‘cause / I froze in time between hearses and caskets” each verse ends with Jack Antonoff’s optimistic belting. Bleachers’ first hit single is sure to inspire you to reflect on your troubles and decide to grow from them…because the first step in becoming happier is telling yourself, I wanna get better.—GRACE STASOLLA

 

“Hawái” – Maluma

Maluma, the Latin superstar from Colombia, took the world by storm when he released a summer bop on the 29th of July 2020 titled ‘Hawai’. The single quickly shot to top billboards for countries around the world and the official YouTube video has accumulated over 400 million views to date. With a soft entrance laced with synths and an electric piano, accompanied by Maluma’s soothing and rich tone, the listener is left to sway their head to the ballad-like nature of the opening. The classic Latin percussion enters shortly after, immediately transforming the song into a rhythmic and energizing piece of music for all people to enjoy and dance to. From catchy melodies to danceable rhythms, Hawái is the perfect song to blast on our porch speakers with the company of your friends on a hot summer day.—AARIK IBANEZ

 

“TWFNO” – Tiffany Day

Following her viral debut video of her singing “Hallelujah” into a well in Italy, Tiffany Day has been releasing her own airy, bedroom-pop songs ever since. “TWFNO” came out right before the pandemic hit, and the song’s candid idea that time waits for no one makes the world seem a little more manageable. The words “all that s*** built up inside is okay, feel alive” is met with a steady beat of the drum that gives a feeling of an unwavering, balanced life. When the drums are not playing there are electronic melodies that drift through the background and crisp snaps that will make you want to snap and sing along with Day. With its heart-to-heart lyrics and uplifting beat, “TWFNO” is the perfect song to blast when you want to forget about time and any responsibilities.—MIA GLASS

 

“Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” – Marvin Gaye

If darkness is the absence of light, then Marvin Gaye’s legendary tune is the absence of sadness. Much like the persistent narrator of the song will not allow any obstacle to infringe on his ability to get to his love, so to will Gaye not stop from making the listener smile. The song has a melody that inspires a smile immediately, and the lyrics are as happy as can be. Gaye didn’t let the rock formations of thousands of year old glaciers stop him, and neither should you let the events of the day impact your life. There ain’t no mountain high enough to stop you from getting to the top and screaming that today will be a good day!—JON DONVILLE 

 

“Proof” – Paramore

Maybe you’re not in love. Neither am I. Proof by Paramore is still the perfect alt-rock song to enliven oneself, but also to forget about the imminently setting sun. With dynamic lyrics about the force of love and vibrant guitars and melodies, Proof is the shimmering reset for the inevitable seasonal melancholy (as well as the current pandemic). Swim in this song for a few minutes and don’t forget about the blushing, reggae-inspired bridge where Hayley Williams’ vocals shine with lovestruck joy. Taylor York’s deep guitar lines meld with Williams’ voice for that unique Paramore sound: the brightness of Hayley’s vocal melodies and the shadows of true emo influences from their early 2000s days. Proof begs to be danced to, giving you a reason to smile and sing along.—ANDIE CHAPMAN

 

“Tongue Tied” – Grouplove

Nearly ten years later, “Tongue Tied” by Grouplove is the one song that never fails to lift my mood. It’s the anthem that every Zillennial knows and loves, and has inspired countless Spotify playlists such as “if tongue tied by grouplove was a playlist,” which boasts 8,747 followers to date. This song remains Grouplove’s most popular song, as it’s often hailed as the synth-pop, alt-rock teenage party song of the decade. One scroll through TikTok today will reveal countless travel videos and summer memory montages set to “Tongue Tied.” From the chorus of crescendoing “Woooo!”s at the end of the guitar intro to the energetic, bouncy verses, there’s only one way to describe “Tongue Tied”: the auditory form of serotonin.—EMILY HURWITZ

 

“Some Skunk Funk” – The Brecker Brothers

There is nothing better than tapping your foot to an upbeat jazz tune, and “Some Skunk Funk” by The Brecker Brothers is no exception. At the same time that this song will push your jaw through the floor, especially the hyper-speed live version on their Heavy Metal Be-Bop (1978) album, the band is so deep “in-the-pocket” that the groove is bound to make you feel great. The Brecker Brothers is a jazz fusion duo fronted by Michael Brecker on sax and Randy Brecker on trumpet, and the band’s energy while playing this virtuosic piece live is so infectious that it feels like you are in the audience yourself while listening to the wild flow of melodic lines. If you prefer a more laid-back version of this masterpiece, head over to their The Brecker Bros (1975) album and you will be equally stunned and uplifted. “Some Skunk Funk:” groove first, then speed. —SPENCER NACHMAN

Buttercup by Hippo Campus

I’m not good with motivational quotes or the saccharine pep of “you can do it!” songs. Buttercup, by indie phenoms Hippo Campus, is the perfect cocktail of self-deprecation and obstinate resolution to shake off a bad day. Acerbic lyrics play off against the jaunty, teasing bounce of the guitar and synths, keeping the song taught with mischief even as it puts an uncomfortable finger on all the things going wrong.  Whether it’s an incomprehensible academic reading or a perilously close deadline, there’s something cathartic about yelling “yeah, swing, sucker swing, finish sobbing” with the band in full chorus. And like a charm, after those three and a half minutes, I feel ready to peel myself off the floor and lurch back into society. —LYNN HONG 

“Budapest Concert (ECM)” – Keith Jarrett

After all the pulse-racing, mood-boosting excitements of this playlist, here’s a dose of sonic calm to re-balance mind and body. One of the most wide-ranging, expressive, and original pianists of the last half-century. Keith Jarrett turned seventy-five in May, but he was not celebrating.  He was struggling to recover from two strokes suffered two years ago.  With aid, he walks again, but can no longer play the piano. Last month his famed record label ECM released a double album of his live 2016 concert in Budapest, a sprawling hour-and-a-half of music that traverses a vast stylistic terrain: jazz, classical, free improvisation, coloristic tableaux, and percussive ruminations. Jarrett’s kaleidoscopic cosmopolitanism is self-indulgent only in the best sense:  personal, inimitable, compelling, expansive. Jarrett has Hungarian ancestry and saw the Budapest Concert given at the Béla Bartók National Concert Hall as a kind of homecoming. Bartók has long been a vital influence on the pianist and its echoes, dances and sings throughout the evening, the audience enraptured by the music’s masterful surety and unbounded imagination. All material is original and spontaneous, Jarrett returning toward evening’s end—just before two popular song encores—to the Blues of his native land, the sound of one home heard in another. That this irreplaceable musician will not perform again is a devastating loss, but in the Budapest concert—and in the wealth of recordings stowed in the ECM vault to be released in the years ahead—there is uplift enough for several lifetimes, and for generations of listeners still to be moved by Jarrett’s undying art.—DAVID YEARSLEY

 

Complete playlist here:

Klezmer at Cornell: A Peek into Music as a Religious Vessel

Religion has long inspired music composition, just as music has shaped faith practices since the beginning of organized religion. The most prominent religious works of music are Christian, as almost every major classical composer has been Christian and written music about his relationship with God. In this age of diversified religious backgrounds and increased accessibility to a wide variety of musical genres, there is no excuse for the predominance of Christian music in classical domains.

At Cornell University, Chabad – a facet of the larger Hasidic Jewish organization – strives to provide its members the opportunity to experience spiritually and culturally Jewish traditions. Their virtual Klezmer concert on Thursday, October 8, was a wonderful example of how musical experiences are being preserved during the age of COVID-19. The concert, which was held over zoom, beautifully shared the stunning and spiritual music of Eastern European Jews with members of the Chabad community. Jennifer Levine’s clarinet-playing was energetic and exciting – her notes bouncing off one another as she moved her instrument along with its swells – while David Zakalik’s accordion kept the music steady and added a sweet heartiness to the melodies. Eventually, Rabbi Eli Silberstein joined the duo, his mahogany voice floating above the instruments.

As the director of Cornell Chabad, Rabbi Eli introduced the instrumentalists and briefly explained the significance of music during the holiday of Sukkot – the reason for the performance. While Rosh Hashanah welcomes the Jewish New Year and Yom Kippur serves as an introspective time of repentance and forgiveness, Sukkot is a celebration of the hope of a new year. Before Levine and Zakalik lept back into their jubilant playing, Rabbi Eli invited his audience to take this time to be cheerful, saying, “Tonight let’s rejoice…now we embrace a whole new future!” And with that, the clarinet and accordion dove in again, echoing each others’ melodies and beckoning others at the Chabad house to clap and dance.

A week after the concert, I had the opportunity to interview Rabbi Eli about Klezmer and the broader contours of Hasidic music. He started by explaining that he knows more about Hasidic music, since he grew up with it, and less about the more secular Klezmer that evolved out of the traditional music. “Hasidic music is tied to a deep philosophy about life,” he explained, “most of the music was composed by spiritual people, whose music was just an extension of their faith.” For Hasidic Jews, their entire life revolves around Judaism and they spend much time reflecting on their relationship with God. Rabbi Eli shared a memory of his from childhood, when he witnessed a man who had been deeply reflecting and praying for hours, suddenly burst into song, with tears streaming down his face as once-hidden emotions escaped from the confines of his soul.

Rabbi Eli and I spent most of our time talking about the role that music plays in Judaism, and how this differs from music produced for the secular public. To him, “music is a vessel to arouse deep spiritual emotions. It enables you to transcend the stresses and constrains of life.” He explained that this is why very few Hasidic melodies have words. “Words are limited,” he said, “They cannot express an emotion that is deep-seated in the heart and has an intense energy to it.” The tune, the melody, is the only language that can express an emotion in the soul.” The aching notes of Zakalik’s accordion complemented by the fast-moving lines of Levine’s clarinet, reminded me of the fast-paced life that distracts us from reflecting on feelings that are hidden within us. Levine and Zakalik’s emotions could be felt through their instruments, their bodies moving along with the notes that they produced, beckoning me and others in the audience to feel the meaning behind the music being performed.

Jewish music has significantly developed since its origins, but still serves to unite the Jewish community, both in its cultural and spiritual significance. Rabbi Eli explained that initially, music was simply part of Jewish services, with choirs singing so that “the music could be heard all over Jerusalem. The music was meant to inspire within those attending a soulful turmoil and repentance.” Hasidic music aims to arouse spirituality in its listeners, playing the same role that music did in the first synagogues. Klezmer, on the other hand, “is a more cultural experience,” being played mostly during holidays and bar and bat mitzvahs…hence the charming Klezmer performance that Chabad held for Sukkot. The Klezmer style “evolved into the hands of Jews who were not as interested in the religious aspects of life, but wanted to be Jewish, culturally.” Even if Klezmer may be more secular than its Hasidic ancestor, the music is still unequivocally tied to spiritual Judaism and inspires those who listen to think more about their relationship to religion.

As a rarely spiritual person, I didn’t expect to feel particularly introspective when attending the Klezmer concert. To my surprise, the engagement of the audience – though mostly virtual aside from the few people in the Chabad house clapping along – paired with the dynamic songs brought me deep into the performance, enveloping me and igniting my curiosity about faith. I never felt fully comfortable sitting in a service and listening to people read religious texts; the liturgy always seemed so oddly formal. But being beckoned into the warm hospitable atmosphere of the Klezmer concert, with Rabbi Eli singing soulful syllables over the brisk and jovial tunes of the accordion and clarinet, I found solace. While I would love to say that the Klezmer concert was a spiritual awakening for me, that would be an immense exaggeration. The music did, however, evoke a curiosity in me about the role of religion in my life and what it would mean to be more spiritual. If I spent more time reflecting on my relationship to God, would I sing with the vigor that Rabbi Eli does? Is there a meaningful connection between singer and song that can only found in sacred music?

Rocktober: Songs We’re Fall-ing For

“Wrath” – The Smashing Pumpkins

Autumn’s here, at last. Foliage, cute sweaters, and apple cider donuts fill my Instagram feed. But not only do we have carving pumpkins to look forward to, we also have The Smashing Pumpkins. The band is back, having recently dropped four singles from their upcoming double album, Cyr,  set for release on November 27. “Wrath,” released on September 25, showcases the band’s departure from guitar-saturated grunge into an equally heavy but electronic direction, which they hinted on their 2014 album, Moments to an Elegy. Billy Corgan’s wailing nasal voice dances around the empty sound of a synth with no guitar — a bold stylistic move for a band known for their quintessential 90s rock anthems. —EMILY HURWITZ

 

“Dear Mr. President” – Kiana Ledé

We are currently living through one of the worst pandemics recorded in history and mass civil rights protests unlike any other; two issues that can be attributed to the actions taken by the current sitting president. All the heartbreak and suffering we have seen this year gave re-birth to P!nk’s single ‘Dear Mr. President’ originally released on March 28th, 2011. Kiana Ledé released a beautiful rendition of the piece as a piano ballad single on the June 12th, 2020. The piece opens with chants from a protest where people are proclaiming ‘No Peace, No Justice’, directly referring to the protests we have been seeing recently. This is proceeded by the entrance of Ledés euphonious vocals accompanied by heavenly harmonies, making this piece a must listen to. Ledé asks the questions, directed towards the president, that everyone wants to know the answers to such as ‘How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?’. It is very disappointing to think that 11 years after the original release, this song could still be so relevant. —AARIK IBANEZ

 

“That’s on You (Japanese Remix)” – Joyce Wrice, UM

This collaboration breaks all barriers, combining different languages, R&B and neo-soul, and two half-Japanese, half-Black female icons. Rising artist Joyce Wrice released her single “That’s on You” back in May, but UMI joined her for the October 6th release of this powerful Japanese remix. The song still keeps the original storyline of an uncertain and hopeless love, but this time, the two artists’ voices melt together into a buttery, soulful blend of harmonies. The smooth bass-line coupled with the swaying rhythm of the guitar will bring on the sweet groove that everybody needs. —MIA GLASS

 

“Gwendolyn” – Jeff Tweedy

This week, Jeff Tweedy released “Gwendolyn,” a new song to preface the release of his upcoming solo album Love Is the King. Tweedy’s gentle, detached voice, became a cornerstone of his esteemed alternative rock band, Wilco. Once again, his rustling voice is featured prominently, yet the steady groove of the guitar and bass keep it from roaming too far from the melody. The result is a soft, yet infectiously toe-tapping tune.—JONAH LEVINE

 

“We Are Golden” – MIKA

Cornell’s pressure-filled climate makes it is so easy to get caught up in becoming a cookie-cutter graduate with a job lined up. And in doing so, many find themselves relinquishing the time and effort that should duly be put into exploring their interests and curiosities. With that said, as we are entering prelim season, or as I see it, the period of time where priorities get skewed and life perspectives are warped, MIKA’s “We Are Golden” is a tried-and-true reset button. The song’s uplifting beat and instrumentals backing up MIKA’s stern chants of this seemingly repetitive chorus will not fail to shake us out of this trance we’re in.—PATRICIA KU

 

“Little Dreamer” – Van Halen

After the death of the most influential rock guitarist, Eddie Van Halen, it would be remiss to exclude one of the band’s invigorating tunes in this month’s playlist. “Little Dreamer” is a neglected gem from Van Halen’s debut record in 1978, being overpowered by the mighty “Eruption” and radio hit “Runnin’ with the Devil.” This mid-tempo masterpiece formed an integral part of the Van Halen setlist even before they hit the studio, and it resultantly became its own force of nature by the time the red record button was pushed. Eddie’s signature tapping style makes a brief but ferocious appearance mid-song, but “Little Dreamer” proves that groove beats speed. Eddie Van Halen inspired a generation of guitarists and air-guitarists alike that continue to look up to him as the ultimate guitar god. —SPENCER NACHMAN

 

“Why Are Sundays So Depressing” – The Strokes

In the blur of the months, an album that shines through is The New Abnormal by the Strokes. It is their first full-length release since 2013 and produced by the industrious Rick Rubin. I chose the arbitrarily titled “Why Are Sundays So Depressing.” It blends early Strokes guitars with more eccentric vocals from Julian Casablancas, redolent of his experimental band The Voidz. The sugary guitar melodies and vocoder-based chorus feel like a new atmosphere of joy, far away from the current strangeness. This song is a fresh alternative cut in a collection of rock oddities. If you love The Strokes and haven’t yet heard this, get ready for your next true love. —ANDIE CHAPMAN

 

“Mustang” – Bartees Strange

Though Bartees Strange’s impressive, genre-hopping debut Live Forever was filled with wonderful tracks, the album’s highlight, “Mustang”, an indie-rock banger replete with distorted riffs an infectious synth line, demonstrates Strange’s powerful voice and emotional range, along with his ability to craft a song that begs to be screamed and replayed until your voice gives out. —MILES GREENBLATT

 

“Atoll” – Nail Palm

Accompanied by a single electric guitar, Nai Palm croons a promise of healing on “Atoll,” singing “When the damn thing breaks/ I’ll be there to take you home”. Also known also as the frontman of the futuristic jazz-funk quartet Haitus Kaiyote, Nai Palm sings spring-loaded with intention, purring the melody in her husky lower register before curling into her airy falsetto. The song blooms into harmony in the verse, the hum of voices swelling and overflowing from the ends of each line, rich but never cloying. Ending in an exuberant chorus, Nai Palm ensconces the listener in this momentary atoll. —LYNN HONG

 

“Good Job” – Alicia Keys

Self doubt is something that effects college students in the best of times. In 2020, there isn’t a college student who hasn’t doubted themselves, or been discouraged by the pandemic and its alterations on normal life. Alicia Keys’ soothing voice in her single “Good Job” brings memories of Robin Williams famously telling Matt Damon that “its not your fault.” Keys wrote the tune before the pandemic, but its message to regular people and workers is especially inspiring. She sings, “You’re doing a good job / A good job.” A message we all need to hear right now, only made better by her charisma and talent. A great addition to this playlist.—JON DONVILLE

 

“You Sad” – Tkay Maidza

As the weather grows colder and the sky becomes darker, it is easy to forget about the joyful parts of life. Tkay Maidza’s “You Sad” encourages listeners to take life less seriously, with a kooky music video and a catchy chorus. The song is an amalgamation of quirky little sounds – from shakers and bongos to whistles that echo throughout. Maidza’s music video is scattered with vibrant colors and butterflies, emulating the magical energy that her song exudes. Released on August 7, “You Sad” has the carefree energy of the summer and is the perfect listen for anyone missing the sun. —GRACE STASOLLA

How “Run Away With Me” Infiltrated My Summer

The summer of 2020 was unconventional, but as with every summer for the past four years, by the end, I had three monthly playlists filled with songs – a compilation of old favorites intertwined with new discoveries that left a mark on me this summer. One such discovery that dominated my listening from June through August was Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Run Away With Me”, an energetic pop song that had somehow never crossed my path until this summer.

The song had been introduced to me through a YouTube video entitled “‘Run Away With Me’ by Carly Rae Jepsen: The Best Pop Song of the Century”, by MictheSnare, a music analysis channel. Listening to Nick, the host, go through the song to analyze what makes it creative, complex, and catchy inspired me to listen more closely to the music that I consume and encouraged me to grant Jepsen’s song the elite status of being on my June Spotify playlist.

“Run Away With Me” is a song that I could listen to in any format over the summer, whether I was blasting it while driving with my windows down on one of the few errands that allowed me to leave the house, or in my air pods as I ferociously weeded in my yard. No matter the setting, Jepsen’s energetic song fits perfectly and makes ordinary life a little bit more fun.

Though it is a pop song, “Run Away With Me” avoids the common error of being repetitive and predictable, as Jepsen plays with texture, volume, harmony, and chord resolution. While I may not agree that “Run Away With Me” is the best pop song of the century, it certainly serves as a fantastic example of what pop should be: versatile, purposeful, and never stagnant.