Free and legal MP3: Becca Richardson (delightful, confident debut)

“Wanted” is a cool delight from start to finish, smartly crafted and produced in a most matter-of-fact way.

Becca Richardson

“Wanted” – Becca Richardson

“Wanted” is a cool delight from start to finish, smartly crafted and produced in a most matter-of-fact way. What begins as a bass-driven groove expands fluidly into a succinct, three-part song, with strong hooks in all three sections—verse (first heard at 0:13), pre-chorus (0:47), and chorus (1:03)—with each part nestled snugly against the next, while also offering nuanced additions to the soundscape. The climax at the chorus is sneaky-great, featuring a sly two-step reveal: the central question “Doesn’t it feel good?” sounds like a stand-alone as it’s asked three times in a row, only then to show itself as incomplete—the full question turns out to be “Doesn’t it feel good to be wanted?” The shift is subtle but affecting.

I’m impressed throughout by the clean and dexterous mix. Calling on a judicious bag of aural building blocks, “Wanted” feels all the richer for how nonchalantly the blend works. Bass and drum get us going, synths and guitars join in, each entrance at once precise and casual. I like, as an example, the guitar chords that slash in as background accents starting at 0:32, and especially appreciate the dissonant chord we get at 0:34, first of a series of quietly off-kilter accents. The pre-chorus follows, highlighted by swelling backing vocals and an underwater-y synth line deep below. The chorus then anchors us with psychedelic guitar blurts.

Not to be overlooked through it all is the enticing suppleness of Becca Richardson’s voice. She sings in slightly different registers in each of the song’s three sections—subtly shy and sultry in the verse, open-voiced and full strength in the middle part, and in the third a higher-register version of sultry, minus the shy. Among Richardson’s strengths here as both singer and songwriter is how little she strains to call attention to how good she is. It’s an unorthodox stance in our YouTuber age, and that may be at least part of what lends an old-school vibe to a song that otherwise zings along with solid 21st-century chops.

Richardson is based in Nashville. “Wanted” is the opening track from her debut album, We Are Gathered Here, which was self-released in October. You can sample it and buy it on iTunes. MP3 via the artist.

Free and legal MP3: Lowpines

Gorgeous 21st-century folk rock

Lowpines

“Broken Wing” – Lowpines

Static and fuzz lead us counterintuitively into a smooth, minor-key strummer. The melody, at first, is lovely, but contained—the verse, in fact, concentrates on just two different notes. But emerging from the mouth of Oli Deakin, doing musical business as Lowpines, the song sounds, already, rich and wistful.

Then the chorus slays with pure beauty. Deakin’s already multi-tracked voice opens into a wash of vocal sound as the melody expands into gratifying intervals—note in particular the two different landing spots for the word “wing” on the chorus’s repeated end line, “Be my broken wing”: the first “wing” dips down below an expected descent and then the second one, also against expectation, finishes higher up, in an unresolved place, with Deakin’s phrasing lagging behind the beat in a way that somehow adds both lushness and regret to the palette.

After the first chorus the song feels transformed into something silvery and resolute. The background fills with a soft sort of loudness, buoying the song into grandeur. The return of the chorus, with its Moody Blues-like pathos, just about brings tears to the eyes. At one point a clarion synth line finds its way through the sumptuous forward-moving haze. At the end we get a slowed-down coda in which the song ends without resolution, as if in mid-thought. There is little to do now but go back and listen again.

Deakin, based in the UK, has been recording as Lowpines since 2012. Earlier Lowpines material, while still melodic, was characterized by a more whispery vocal style that brings the likes of Iron & Wine and Bon Iver and, grandfather of them all, Elliott Smith to mind: by now the almost cliched woodsy-folksy 21st-century troubadour sound. “Broken Wing” breaks past the claustrophobia often looming in that approach, and lands us in some new kind of folk-rock firmament. It’s the second track on the second Lowpines album, In Silver Halides, slated for release later this month. You can check out his previous discography—one other album, three EPs, two singles—over on Bandcamp.

Another one of those dreams

Eclectic Playlist Series 5.01 – Jan. 2018

So it’s been two years now since David Bowie died. Is this even possible? January brings the man inevitably to mind, this time via an incredible cover of a song that was never previously a particular favorite of mine. But boy does Jesca Hoop give herself over to “John I’m Only Dancing,” doing what any great cover should do: opening the ears to a song’s true power. It is no accident that I selected a female vocalist covering a Bowie song, and no accident that this month’s playlist is dominated by female performances. Keep it up out there.

Meanwhile, the Eclectic Playlist Series this month enters its fifth iteration. In January, I reset the accounts, and all artists become available again. (For newcomers: no artist appears more than once a year here.) Even so, I’m happy to report that 15 out of 20 artists on this month’s list have never been on one of my playlists before, including, inexplicably, John Vanderslice, who has otherwise a strong history as a Fingertips favorite, and Lou Reed, who has an inimitable presence in rock’n’roll history.

Random notes:

* Rita Wright is more authentically identified as Syreeta Wright, but this was her first single, and that’s the name she was given for it by Motown chairman Berry Gordy. She was an early collaborator with Stevie Wonder, co-writing many songs, and singing on his albums. They were married in 1970; it only lasted a few years, but they continued to work together into the ’90s. She recorded eight solo albums in the ’70s and ’80s. Wright died at age 58, in 2004, from complications stemming from a long battle with cancer.

* Thanks to the always enjoyable radio show/podcast “The Many Moods of Ben Vaughn” for the classic Serge Gainsbourg song, which some part of me knew from a buried and mysterious point in the past but I’d never have recovered otherwise.

* I don’t think Britta Phillips got enough attention for her wonderful Luck or Magic album from 2016, the first solo release of her acclaimed career (Luna, Dean & Britta). Pitchfork among other places took her to task for the album’s having five cover songs out of 10 tracks, which strikes me as a stupid critique of someone with such a strong interpretive flair. (And never mind the fact that so many of today’s revered pop performers don’t write their songs in the first place.) The album casts a spell; I recommend it.

Full playlist below the widget.

“Trick of the Light” – Matthew Sweet (Tomorrow Forever, 2017)
“Who Do You Love” – Pointer Sisters (Priority, 1979)
“Whirlwind” – Sam Rivers (Inspiration, 1999)
“Keep It Tight” – Single Bullet Theory (Sharp Cuts: New Music From American Bands, 1980)
“Arrow” – Beaches (Second of Spring, 2017)
“La Chanson De Prévert” – Serge Gainsbourg (L’Étonnant Serge Gainsbourg, 1961)
“Crazy Feeling” – Lou Reed (Coney Island Baby, 1976)
“John I’m Only Dancing” – Jesca Hoop (A Salute to the Thin White Duke, 2015)
“Stranger Than You” – Joe Jackson (Night and Day II, 2000)
“We’re Gonna Hate Ourselves in the Morning” – Nursery Rhymes (single, 1967)
“Same Old Scene” – Roxy Music (Flesh + Blood, 1980)
“Diving Woman” – Japanese Breakfast (Soft Sounds From Another Planet, 2017)
“White Plains” – John Vanderslice (Cellar Door, 2004)
“I Can’t Give Back The Love I Feel For You” – Rita Wright (single, 1968)
“Never Go Back” – Christine Lavin (Good Thing He Can’t Read My Mind, 1987)
“Nothing Has Been Proved” – Dusty Springfield (Reputation, 1990)
“Fallin’ in Love” – Britta Phillips (Luck or Magic, 2016)
“Forget About You” – The Motors (Approved By The Motors, 1978)
“The Storm” – The Hunters (single, 1962)
“Attagirl” – Bettie Serveert (Attagirl, 2004)

Free and legal MP3: Ages and Ages (a compassionate song for troubled times)

The lyrics, meanwhile, are awash with the empathy currently struggling to re-establish itself in a world seemingly gone vicious and unreflective.

Ages & Ages

“How It Feels” – Ages and Ages

A lovely strain of uplift runs through “How It Feels,” the latest offering from a band with currents of melodicism and humanity consistently twinning through their music. Maybe it’s there in the plinky, upturning synth line that, recycling, impels us forward, or in the inscrutable, airy, Lindsay Buckingham-ish declarations of the verses (“Feel the noise add up under my skin/Look around as if I only just noticed,” et al.). And then, the thing that really grips the heart: the chorus, which only subtly alters the verse melody, but with the incisive entry of a female singing partner, joining only for the phrase “But I wanted to tell you” (it’s “And I wanted to tell you” the second time, sung the same way). Notice the delightful little leap on the word “tell,” and the guileless conversion of “you” to “ya,” which itself feels like the hug the song is benevolently aspiring to offer via words and music.

“How It Feels” opens itself to us as it goes. Listen for the synth insertions—ambling, flute-like, nearly dissonant—that begin between verses (around 1:19) and proceed to work themselves into the mix. A later instrumental break finds a guitar infiltrating with neither warning nor fuss (2:23), like a long-lost relative at a family reunion. The lyrics, meanwhile, are awash with the empathy currently struggling to re-establish itself in a world seemingly gone vicious and unreflective. This too shall pass, and in the meantime, we hold onto each other, those of us who believe in good hearts.

“How It Feels” is a single offered up by Ages and Ages back in October. It was recently featured as a free and legal download via KEXP, which is my source here. The band is from Portland, Oregon; they have released three full-length LPs to date, the most recent, Something to Ruin, in 2016. They have been previously featured on Fingertips in 2011 and 2014. The band lists five members in its core, but with a couple of dozen others in its “extended family.” There are six people in this photo because I’m not sure.

Free and legal MP3: Jason Matuskiewicz (acoustic-based midtempo rocker)

Matuskiewicz’s vocals, at once striking and unassuming, recall a long-lost classic-rock troubadour.

Jason Matuskiewicz

“Battle Born” – Jason Matuskiewicz

A chugging acoustic rhythm pitches us straight into a composition combining old-school know-how with a 21st-century, artisanal vibe. “Battle Born” is built upon a procession of careful, heartfelt chords and a melody at once deep and understated. The song sounds tough and tender at the same time; Matuskiewicz’s unassuming vocals recall a long-lost classic-rock troubadour, pushing us forward with a sort of weary tenacity suiting well the titular phrase. There’s a bit of processing involved but mostly it’s just the Joe Walsh-ian grain of his voice that convinces.

The song has a backstory, and I will quickly note that as songs go I’m not a backstory person. I mean, it’s fine if a song has one but I don’t feel it too often benefits me as a listener to be distracted by concrete details of one particular situation. Given the inherent notionality of music—absent words, a song can only ever suggest—I’m usually on board with songwriters who, even with their words, remain at the doorstep of suggestion. So, I appreciate here that Matuskiewicz, however specific (and difficult) the circumstance that inspired the song, has spun an elusive tale rather than anything on the nose. (And, okay, not to be a tease, the backstory here is that Matuskiewicz had been watching his girlfriend going through debilitating chemotherapy, and wrote the song as an outlet for this difficult experience.) I’m even more on board with songwriters with an unwavering sense of syllabic integrity, and Matuskiewicz’s lyrics scan impeccably. I might indeed argue that it’s proper scanning that can most effectively elevate lyrics; phrases that hold tight to the rhythm can soar with the freedom of musical imagination (see: “An angel came while I was drinking lemonade” [1:06]), while clunky phrasing does just that—brings a narrative clunking down to the uninteresting earth.

Matuskiewicz is a Brooklyn-based musician who is currently in the trio Shapes on Tape, and previously in the Lexington, Kentucky-based band Candidate. “Battle Born” was released as a single in November; it will appear on a forthcoming solo EP. Thanks to Jason for the MP3, and for his patient answering of my pestering questions.

Free and legal MP3: Jane Weaver (an extended magic spell of a song)

The wondrous, hypnotic “Modern Kosmology” rolls over the psyche like an extended magic spell.

Jane Weaver

“Modern Kosmology” – Jane Weaver

The wondrous, hypnotic “Modern Kosmology” rolls over the psyche like an extended magic spell, with sounds from many decades commingling in a most contemporary rock’n’roll stew. Even as the opening drums lope to a human beat (one, I’ll admit, that thrills an ear over-accustomed to digital knob-twiddles), electronics soon thread nimbly through the aural fabric, from droning synths and roughed-up bass lines to space-age twizzles and the masterful use of reverb (truly reverberant, never muddy). The word “psychedelic” is typically thrown around during discussions of Weaver’s music, and while I have not historically been drawn to music of that ilk (whatever that ilk actually entails), Weaver brings such aptitude to the swirl of sound that I surrender without hesitation.

Through this five-minute journey, the single-line chorus of “And now I’m changing my world” presides over the 3/4 swing like an incantation. Weaver’s voice, an arresting mix of sweetness and certainty, is a flawless guide through territory that feels both familiar and unprecedented. I could listen to this song all night. I basically did while writing this.

Weaver is a British singer/songwriter who came onto the U.K. scene in the ’90s as part of the band Kill Laura. John Peel was a fan; the band released but five singles. She formed Misty Dixon in 2002, which lasted a couple of years. She had also begun making some solo recordings in the aftermath of Kill Laura, but did not release a full-length album until 2006’s Seven Day Smile. “Modern Kosmology” is the title track to her eighth solo album, released back in May 2017. The song was featured as a free and legal MP3 on KEXP in September. I don’t know why it took me so long to get this up here. Apologies all around.

That said, Modern Kosmology‘s opening track, H>A>K (a reference to the early modern Swedish artist and occultist Hilma af Klint) was, at least, featured in a Fingertips playlist in August 2017. The entire album is well worth your time and support.

Free and legal MP3: Iron and Wine (exquisite, essential)

At his best, Sam Beam writes the sorts of songs that sound eternal—exquisite melodies fragile enough to break into rainbows, strong enough to support the universe.

Iron and Wine

“Call It Dreaming” – Iron and Wine

At his best, Sam Beam writes the sorts of songs that sound eternal—exquisite melodies fragile enough to break into rainbows, strong enough to support the universe. This is one of them. How could he have written this thing that must surely have already existed! And how much is yet left to be done with an acoustic guitar! (Who’d have thought, in this mean-spirited moment in our planet’s history? Or maybe that’s exactly why.) And not that this is a simple guitar-and-voice presentation; on the contrary, Beam has over the years developed a gift for enveloping his guitar within an ensemble of textures while neither overwhelming it nor over-relying on it. You never lose track of this as an acoustic song, but hear how well he places the bass, the piano, the percussion, all definitively in there yet never obviously or individually emphasized. Even the graceful backing harmonies enter gently, mixed exactly to where they will have impact and no higher. The lyrics, meanwhile, float through the air with elegant purity—phrases ebb and flow, creating emotion beyond the reach of reason.

Nothing further need be said. This song has been out since August, so you may have heard it already. If so, now you can have a free and legal MP3 of it (again, via KEXP); if not, waste no more time and by all means listen. The song is track six on the album Beast Epic, Beam’s sixth full-length studio album as Iron and Wine, not including collaborative projects. Iron and Wine has been twice previously featured on Fingertips, but not since 2007.

Strange prayers (Eclectic Playlist Series 4.11 – Dec. 2017)

The latest edition of the Eclectic Playlist Series, with sprinkles of Christmas.

I’ve scattered some Christmas songs in with the usual unusual mix here, because I for one like hearing them in and around other non-seasonal offerings, rather than as part of an endless pile-up of holiday tunes somewhere in the middle of which inevitably lurk David Bowie and Bing Crosby. In our playlist era more than ever, we get the all-or-nothing Christmas song approach. Go for it if that’s your thing. Me, I’ll stay here fighting for nuance in a nuance-free culture. I’ll go further and announce my suspicion that digital reality aggravates the problem–that the necessity of reducing information to zeros and ones is decreasing our tolerance for and/or interest in gray areas. It’s just a theory at this point, mind you.

Random notes:

* Kim Weston is best known if at all for recording the original version of “Take Me In Your Arms (Rock Me a Little While).” She left Motown in a royalty dispute, and continued to record for many years but without a lot of widespread success. This is a great, underappreciated single, even if the explosive opening makes for a difficult segue.

* XTC make their second appearance on the Eclectic Playlist Series in one calendar year, which is against my own rules, but I allowed it for three reasons: they recorded this single as “The Three Wise Men”; I already inadvertently broke my rule earlier this year by accidentally featuring Sparks a second time (anyone notice that?); it’s a great song.

* More background on the charming “Seasons Greetings” can be found in a Fingertips entry here, from 2007.

* The Simon & Garfunkel segue into Jill Scott is an accidental beauty. Thanks to George from Between Two Islands for reacquainting me recently with this most excellent song.

* And yes, “Private Lives” really does have that car-wreck dead spot in the song. Some of my segues are stretches but I hope none sound quite that unfortunate.

Full playlist below the widget.

“Seasons Greetings” – Robbers on High Street (single, 2007)
“Something Warm” – Rick Derringer (Guitars and Women, 1979)
“I Got What You Need” – Kim Weston (single, 1967)
“Stop This Now” – The Hermit Crabs (Time Relentless EP, 2012)
“Thanks for Christmas” – The Three Wise Men [XTC] (single, 1983)
“Hindsight” – Built to Spill (There Is No Enemy, 2009)
“Still Believing” – Mary Black (Babes in the Wood, 1991)
“Doesn’t Make It Alright” – The Specials (The Specials, 1979)
“121 Bank Street” – George Russell (Stratusphunk, 1960)
“God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” – Los Straitjackets (‘Tis the Season For Los Straitjackets, 2002)
“Boyfriend” – Colleen Brown (Foot in Heart, 2010)
“The Lovecats” – The Cure (single, 1983)
“Prayer Wheel” – Eddi Reader (Angels & Electricity, 1998)
“Hard Candy Christmas” – Tracey Thorn (Tinsel and Lights, 2012)
“The Only Living Boy in New York” – Simon & Garfunkel (Bridge Over Troubled Water, 1969)
“A Long Walk” – Jill Scott (Who Is Jill Scott? – Words and Sounds, Vol. 1, 2000)
“Private Lives” – Ultravox (Vienna, 1980)
“Unravel” – Björk (Homogenic, 1993)
“Free Christmas” – Johnny Marr (single, 2011)
“Glad Tidings” – Van Morrison (Moondance, 1970)

Everything wrong with the web, journalism, and music on the internet, in one convenient article

So much bamboozlement here.

The headline screamed, in capital letters:

METAL – THE MOST-LOVED GENRE OF MUSIC – IS GETTING ITS OWN STREAMING SERVICE

It was an article posted last month on a breezily designed online publication called Quartzy, which is a spinoff effort from a larger publication called Quartz. Quartzy calls itself “a guide to living well in the new global economy”; Quartz, meanwhile, was founded in 2012 by The Atlantic as “a digitally native news outlet” and self-proclaimed publisher of “bracingly creative and intelligent journalism with a broad worldview.”

But you know how it is online. Publications have to post copy relentlessly, and prefer not to pay writers very much, if at all. So bullshit pieces like this article about metal being the “most-loved genre of music” get published, even (indirectly) by The Atlantic. By now they’ve probably forgotten they even posted it.

I can see what Quartzy was trying to do. Someone saw an article in Billboard earlier in November about a new streaming service that wants to cater exclusively to heavy metal fans and figured they could make a story out of it by combining it with that article’s tangential mention of Spotify data that claimed that heavy metal is the music genre with the most loyal listeners. The Billboard piece was focused on the new streaming service, called Gimme Radio; Quartzy decided to lead with the “most loyal genre” factoid, probably surmising this was more generally interesting to their audience than the fact that someone was launching a heavy metal streaming service.

Quartzy overlooked two important things in the process. First, the Spotify data came from a post on Spotify’s “Insights” blog in April 2015. The Billboard article mentioned that the data came from 2015, because they were using the data as background. Quartzy made it the lead and how do you lead with two-year-old information on a constantly updating web site? By not mentioning that it’s two years old, obviously.

This is amateurish and disingenuous, but not at all the worst aspect of this story. To me, the worst part is the statistical sleight of hand perpetuated by Spotify and worsened by Quartzy when converted into that grabby headline about metal being music’s “most-loved genre.”

Spotify never said this, to begin with. What Spotify claimed was that heavy metal is the genre with the “most loyal listeners.” And this is, in fact, what Quartzy reports if you read the article. If you just read the headline, however, you would miss this distinction. Quartzy‘s faulty transfiguration of “most loyal listeners” into “most loved genre” is an all-too-common presentational sin in the age of online “journalism” (which I leave in quotes for good reason), but I’d say is no worse a bungle than Spotify’s muddling of its data in the first place and Quartzy accepting the Spotify spin without the slightest hint of journalistic inquiry.

What is loyal and why do we care?

What, after all, does it mean that a specific genre has the “most loyal listeners”? This is a two-part question. The first is logistical, as in: how would one go about measuring this rather slippery concept in the first place? Spotify assures us they have a workable methodology. (I beg to disagree, as you’ll see. Quartzy never appeared to wonder.) The second part is existential: what does it mean for a genre to have the most loyal listeners in the first place? Is this even a thing you can be? Does it make any epistemological sense? And if so, is being a loyal listener to a genre by any meaningful measure a good thing to be? And if so, good to or for whom? (Quartzy didn’t wonder about any of this either.)

Let’s start by looking at what Spotify did to ascertain listening loyalty. First, they identified what they called “core artists” in each genre; next, they divided the number of streams each core artist had by their number of listeners. Their findings placed metal at the top, with what their chart identified as a one-to-one correspondence between streams of these core artists and their number of listeners. Quoting from the Spotify post:

“We looked for repeated listens to the core artists from each genre—the ones sitting right at the ‘center’ of the genres, as it were. So one could also reasonably conclude that jazz, EDM, classical, and blues listeners play more fringe artists from those genres.”

(FYI: Jazz, EDM, classical, and blues are all genres that had less than a 0.6 correspondence in the “core artist streams divided by listeners” formulation.)

So much bamboozlement here! To begin with: core artist streams divided by listens equals loyalty? What the what? For starters: who or what determines a “core artist” in a genre? All Spotify tells us is they determined core artists via data from The Echo Nest regarding which artists “are most central to each genre.” (The Echo Nest is a “music intelligence” company, owned by Spotify.) Overlooking the unhelpful tautology—core artists are those that are most central—I question the basic premise that genres are best represented by core artists alone in the first place. This penalizes genres in which fans are by nature curious, who routinely explore all sorts of music within a given genre. Such fans could be very loyal to a genre but elude recognition by Spotify. One could also argue that a genre only truly solidifies as a genre when it expands robustly beyond some central group of artists representing a certain musical sound. To go back and ascertain helpful information about a genre by looking only at its so-called core seems like a random decision, made only for its statistical ease than for its connection to truth.

And then there’s the underlying formula itself. I for one can’t wrap my mind around what dividing streams by listeners even does—can you? There’s no coherent meaning here; it’s not like a batting average in baseball, where hits divided by at-bats creates a clear and meaningful statistic. Let’s say all the heavy metal “core” bands had one million streams, and one millions listeners, great—what does one stream per listener mean? Nothing that seems clear. Let’s go further and say the core jazz artists had 600,000 streams and one million listeners. This would create that 0.6 correspondence mentioned above. Given that we don’t know what the one-to-one correspondence means, we don’t, now, know what six-tenths of that circumstance means either, outside of the already clear realization that jazz listeners collectively listen to fewer songs from the genre’s most mainstream artists than do people listening to metal.

What, in turn, does that mean? Not necessarily what Spotify says at all. Listeners who focus on the most mainstream artists in a genre may not be “most loyal” as much as least informed—as in, they only are aware of the most popular bands. Or, perhaps, rather than “most loyal” these core-oriented folks are nearly the opposite: music’s most casual listeners, in that they don’t care to investigate beyond the usual suspects. Is a genre filled with uninformed and/or casual listeners a genre with the most loyal listeners? I instead argue that a genre where listeners listen to all sorts of so-called “fringe” artists (see above excerpt) would be the genre with the most loyal listeners—meaning, in this case, listeners who appreciate a genre’s musical landscape enough to branch out and listen to many different versions of it. This is precisely the opposite of Spotify’s conclusion, and Quartzy, in the queasy tradition of inexpert internet posts, swallowed the self-serving corporate line without chewing.

And then let’s back up and again ask ourselves what good is it to identify a genre with the most loyal listeners in the first place? Is being loyal to a genre of social significance? Whose purposes are being served by figuring this assignation?

A cautionary tale

Clearly the only thing going on here is a sales pitch. It was first a sales pitch by Spotify, which continues to present itself as a storehouse of quality by wrapping itself in heaps of quantity, and whose musical warehouse is, for better or worse (worse, mostly, I’d say), compartmentalized by a category concept that sounds more definitive than it mostly is (i.e., “genre”). Beyond that, it was indirectly a sales pitch for anyone (hello, advertisers!) seeking to identify target-able groups of consumers by economically meaningful new ways. This is obviously something in which Facebook has been specializing, often to the detriment of civil society, and it’s something that Spotify wants us to realize it can do too. Implicit in the misbegotten message that metal has the “most loyal listeners” is the idea that these listeners can be aggregated and sold to. That was the point of the original Billboard article, after all: here’s a new streaming service for metal fans, and here’s why it’s a brilliant idea.

As for Quartzy, they have no excuse at all for conflating loyalty with “most loved” except as blatant click bait. In this case, their sales pitch is for their own web site. Because we all know that web sites that fool you into clicking through to their articles are in fact the most loved sites on the web.

Look, I know this was just a throw-away article in the throw-away world of constantly updated web sites offering ongoing posts for an audience ever-ready to click away to something more interesting. And I know no active harm was intended here, unlike what’s out there from purveyors of misinformation and lunatic conspiracies. The stakes seem very low in an article misrepresenting music listenership.

But if this is the kind of piece it’s easy enough to click past, ignore, and move on from, it’s also exactly the kind of thing that illustrates the godawful limits of a digital world ruled by algorithm and monetized eyeballs. It’s death by a thousand poorly written and reported cuts. Maybe it helps to look down and say, “Hm. Maybe I’m bleeding a little.”

And then maybe it helps to begin to see each cut as its own little cautionary tale until the long-awaited day arrives when we may collectively break free of our digital trance and re-imagine our relationship with the world at large, and with each other. A new year approaches. One can always hope.

Free and legal MP3:The Mynabirds (protest song more relevant by the day)

The easy glide of the music, propelled by a melodic, rubbery bass line, disguises the open-ended harmonics on display, as melodies manage to flow and lack resolution at the same time.

The Mynabirds

“Shouting at the Dark” – The Mynabirds

Laura Burhenn, doing musical business as The Mynabirds since 2010, has emerged as one of indie rock’s fiercest truth-tellers, and this song, although released in August, becomes more relevant by the day.

I’d rather have cuts on my knees
Than blood in my mouth
From biting my tongue
And keeping it down

“Shouting at the Dark” is one of nine songs that Burhenn wrote and recorded in the immediate aftermath of January’s inauguration and the Women’s March that followed. The title alone speaks volumes as the United States has been plunged into an amoral miasma that seems now the inevitable consequence of capitalism finding its most reliable partner in widespread stupidity. Anyone with a heart still beating in his or her chest is shouting at the dark for the better part of the day these days.

The easy glide of the music, propelled by a melodic, rubbery bass line, disguises the open-ended harmonics on display, as melodies manage to flow and lack resolution at the same time. Guitars blend effortlessly with synthesizers, with a human touch consistently reasserting itself into the groove—I like, as an example, that little three-note background tweak we hear at 1:12. I like too the thoughtful, scaled-down guitar solo we get instead of a full catharsis at 2:28. Throughout I have the sense that Burhenn is at once welcoming and challenging us, much as she does in a video that dares to show the singer/songwriter dancing with a troupe of women who neither move nor look like professional dancers but (god forbid!) real-life women.

“Shouting at the Dark” is a track from the album Be Here Now, released in August on Saddle Creek Records. You can listen to some of it and buy it (including on vinyl) via Bandcamp. Watch the video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XxbG_Ili0NM MP3 via KEXP. This is the Mynabirds’ fourth appearance on Fingertips, dating back to 2010.