One has to pass through Glenwood Springs, Colorado to reach points south like Aspen and Maroon Bells.
A city of just under 10,000 people, Glenwood Springs sits at a crossroads. The Colorado River and I-70 cut through it from east to west, while Highway 82 South leads one into its downtown via an overpass bridge. This was taken from an adjacent pedestrian bridge.
To the west, an expanse of motels, radio towers and nearly monochrome mountainous terrain.
To the east, comparatively much more color and texture. On I-70, one must pass through the thrilling, precarious Glenwood Canyon to arrive here.
The town is mostly renown for the Glenwood Hot Springs which sprawl to the north of the river and interstate. We briefly considered checking them out but they were a little expensive for our taste.
More lush greenery to the east along I-70, but something red stands out to the right.
The town’s historic train station where Amtrak’s California Zephyr line still stops.
Initially, we feared the town itself was nothing more than a tourist trap given its proximity to the Hot Springs.
While ideally positioned to attract out-of-towners like us, the town also has an agreeable laid-back homey vibe nestled within all of its scenic beauty.
Not to mention a little whimsy here and there like this oversized ice cream cone.
Downtown has an excess of vintage architecture; I could’ve spend an entire day walking around taking photos.
Perhaps its other claim to fame (besides the Hot Springs) is that it’s where Doc Holliday died. I’d recently watched Tombstone (featuring Val Kilmer’s justly celebrated performance as Holliday) without knowing I’d end up here just a few months later.
I’m not sure how vintage this Riviera Lounge signage actually is, but I love it regardless.
A few blocks from downtown, I walked through a residential neighborhood on a lovely, warm September afternoon. The sign (and architectural design) of Gene’s Lock & Key immediately caught my eye.
As did this Masonic Lodge down the block, likely appearing exactly as it did 50 or 70 years ago.
One doesn’t see many mid-century structures anymore where I live like this church. Here, it looks picture-postcard perfect against the mountains to the west.
As I strolled through this neighborhood, I increasingly thought what a nice place it would be to live in if I ever grow weary of being in a big city.
There’s something odd but also charming about coming across a house displaying skis and snowshoes along its side exterior.
These strings of dog polaroids in the window at Deja Brew coffeehouse on Highway 82 are nothing but charming.
Downtown sports colorful signs with this slogan all over the place. Between stuff like this, the unexpected number of rainbow flags I saw in assorted businesses and the natural beauty surrounding it all, Glenwood Springs was a gem of a place to spend an afternoon.
Round Four includes the usual blend of indie pop, classic jazz and disco camp, plus an album from over 50 years ago that may end up my favorite discovery of 2025.
61. The Felice Brothers, “From Dreams to Dust” (2021): I’ve played the heck out of the sly “Jazz on the Autobahn” but never checked out the rest & it’s strong, nearly an American Weakerthans more influenced by folk than punk. Dry humor & wordplay are also constants from “To-Do List” to “Celebrity X”.
62. Duke Ellington, “The Ellington Suites” (1976): Of the three (rather loosely-themed) suites this collects, The Queen’s Suite (1959), made just for QEII is the warmest and most realized (esp. “The Single Petal of a Rose”); the others, recorded in the 70s are fine but decidedly post-peak Duke.
63. Kid Creole & The Coconuts, “Fresh Fruit In Foreign Places” (1981): I suppose the best 8 (out of 12) songs here are as good as the 8 (out of 8) on their next album even if this is more varied. August Darnell sure pivoted from disco to new wave without diluting his essence or breaking a sweat.
64. Roger Nichols & The Small Circle Of Friends, “S/T” (1968): Always a sucker for late ‘60s sunshine pop so of course I was won over by the first trumpet solo (on track one!) A flop at the time, this studio project has enough nifty hooks and harmonies to render the two Beatles covers superfluous.
65. Jason Falkner, “All Quiet On the Noise Floor” (2009): A Japan-only release, it nearly rivals “Can You Still Feel” (1999), at least until peters out a little near the end. Still, Falkner should be a national treasure for having an identifiable sound and executing it better than anyone else.
66. James Brown, “Soul on Top” (1970): If it’s perverse for him reverting to big-band arrangements while he was made career-defining vamp-heavy funk, note that this came out the year he began work with the JB’s. Being at his peak, the music’s secondary to Brown himself (though it’s still great.)
67. Susanne Sundfor, “Blomi” (2023): Was expecting far less English (after glancing over the song titles) and weirder song structures as well. We know she’s capable of bangers but by continuing withholding them she offers something unexpected and perhaps more novel in a world of Robyn wannabees.
68. Bill Callahan, “Gold Record” (2020): Spotify’s algorithms kept throwing his stuff my way and I see why although he’s more a personality-and-vibes guy than a man with hooks to spare. Rhymes Mel Torme with Kid and Play & that’s clever but his character sketches (“Ry Cooder”) are actually smart.
69. The Czars, “Best Of” (2014): Less goofy & synthy than his solo work, John Grant’s old band’s still defined by his baritone & lyrics. “Killjoy” & “Paint The Moon” might’ve been fluke hits like “Float On” & “Stacy’s Mom” in an alternate universe; all one could ask of this comp is a better title.
70. Thee Headcoats, “The Kids Are All Square, This Is Hip!” (1990): I’ve nothing against & mostly embrace garage punk of all stripes even as I can detect all the obvious influences from Kinks to Cramps. This could use more feminine energy so I’ll have to put Thee Headcoatees in my listening queue.
71. Daniel Rossen, “You Belong There” (2022): Did not realize how much Rossen contributed vocally to Grizzly Bear; isolated, his Garfunkel resemblance is unignorable but Garfunkel rarely had such heady material to sing over. I suspect this requires dedication and patience to unlock its secrets.
72. Madvillain, “Madvillainy” (2004): Sampledelic hip-hop that’s lean & economical (only 3 of 21 tracks exceed 3 minutes) while also exuding a limitless range of ideas & possibilities. Closer to Since I Left You than Operation: Doomsday although a deeper dive down the rabbit hole than either.
73. Silver Convention, “Madhouse” (1976): Christgau designated this “Protest Disco” but it’s not far from “Fly, Robin, Fly” (“Magic Mountain” affably recalls it). Pales a bit compared to Donna Summer’s concept LPs of the time, except when it’s transcendent camp (“Breakfast In Bed”, not a cover).
74. Terry Callier, “What Color Is Love” (1972): Turns out soul-folk is completely my thing (his resembling a male Dionne Warwick at times also helps.) Everything here is a marvel of warmth, grace and urgency, genuine instead of a grand statement and hopefully a portal to similar records/sounds.
75. The Coral, “The Coral” (2002): Only familiar with this decade’s output, their debut’s far rougher than expected, more beholden to primal boogie than the Beatles-esque touches of Super Furry Animals & their ilk. I guess one had to be there for it didn’t register much on this side of the pond.
76. Sofia Kourtesis, “Madres” (2023): Deep into the night at the club, everything’s kicking in, the music’s a bit of a blur but still registers if only as background noise, it only feels secondary yet you can’t imagine it not being there, it adds something vital even if you can’t articulate it.
77. Laurie Anderson, “Amelia” (2024): A typically idiosyncratic spin on Earhart’s story, embodying both the external & internal chaos that has remained her specialty since “O Superman”. ANONHI’s a welcome addition even if relegated to the mix; still prefer Joni Mitchell’s *song* of the same name.
78. Bee Gees, “Odessa” (1969): Long-praised as their pre-disco magnum opus, I was relieved it turned out to be more than lachrymose ballads like single “First of May”. The orchestral stuff conjures up a Beatles trying to top Sgt Pepper’s while a dozen other left turns legitimize their weirdness.
79. Matt Berry, “Gather Up (Ten Years On Acid Jazz)” (2021): He’d be better known for his music if he sang as well as he spoke but at least he doesn’t half-ass it (as L. Cravensworth might remark.) A magpie devoted to post-Beatles, pre-Nirvana pop & this comp’s enough to make me want to hear more.
80. AHI, “The Light Behind The Sun” (2025): If his rousing 2021 single “Danger” was reminiscent of prime Seal, this is closer to the later, adult-contemporary version: tasteful, understated & sadly, bland. The simple song titles also don’t help distinguish this pleasant but unmemorable product.
Aspen, Colorado has a reputation as a wealthy ski resort town and it’s not unearned.
The high-end boutique count on most blocks is likely close to that of Boston’s Newbury Street.
However, if you walk away from the town center through flower-lined residential blocks, there remains a constant in the landscape.
Beyond steeples, chimneys and treetops, Aspen is surrounded (engulfed, even) by mountains.
It’s especially striking in late September near peak Autumn foliage.
Looking down Neale Avenue as it crosses the Roaring Fork River is almost akin to witnessing a real-life painting.
Walking further north on Neale crossing the river, one sees nothing but blue skies (and mountains) ahead.
Steve and I could have taken the “No Problem Joe”, a short dirt connector path that runs along the river and seems more notable for its quirky name than anything else.
Instead, we opted for the well-travelled Rio Grande Trail, which begins at Herron Park off Neale and runs for 19 miles all the way to the town of Emma (not far from Basalt, which is where we stayed.)
We didn’t take the trail nearly that far but did have one destination in mind, which we located from its unofficial back entrance near the river.
If Maroon Bells was the most beautiful place we visited in Colorado, the John Denver Sanctuary in Aspen was a close second. I don’t know how well Denver is now remembered by Millennials and generations younger than that, but he was a big presence in my early childhood, especially through his collaborations with Jim Henson (I’ve barely forgiven my parents for not hanging onto my vinyl copy of 1979’s immortal John Denver and The Muppets: A Christmas Together.)
Officially dedicated a year after Denver’s 1997 death, it features a “song garden” full of small boulders inscribed with his lyrics.
My favorite part of the sanctuary was this wetland area–as gorgeous and serene as anything I’ve ever seen.
You don’t even need to bring along a recording of “Rocky Mountain High” or “Annie’s Song”: you’ll likely end up humming them to yourself.
One of the best features of any sanctuary is the wildlife drawn to it like these drinking ducks.
We didn’t see a ton of bright reds like this amongst the Colorado foliage, so it appeared more vividly whenever we spotted some.
Walking further down the Rio Grande Trail, we came across many bridges and some public art.
Many bikers use this path and if I had access to one in Aspen, I surely would’ve ridden along it.
The trail is full of beautiful scenes such as this family of blue spruces among the river and rocks.
We could have taken the trail further to Hallam Lake and Aspen Institute but were ready for rest. We ended up back on North Mill Street towards the town center where we parked. I suspect Aspen can be pretty in the Winter but I’m grateful we were able to see it in early Autumn.
A quarter-century ago this month, I returned to my hometown for a friend’s wedding and, for the first time, felt like a stranger there. Since relocating to Boston three years earlier, my parents and a few good friends had moved to other states, so I no choice but to rent a car and a hotel room for a weekend.
I feel there’s a long essay here but I’m still piecing it together. In the meantime, I came across some photos I took during this trip of the Milwaukee Art Museum as its Santiago Calatrava-designed addition was under construction. It was a big deal for the city, having been announced back when I was still living there. It was originally expected to be completed the year before my visit but this had been pushed back to 2001.
Upon my arrival downtown, I stopped by the construction site to see what progress there was. Behind a chain-link fence, the new Quadracci Pavilion with its retractable wing-shaped roof was far from finished. One can just make out the Eero Saarinen-designed War Memorial Center in the background (which sits atop the bulk of the original museum) beyond the rubble and the new architectural touchstone rising from its ashes.
My next trip back was two years later. I visited the museum and its completed addition with an old friend who herself had moved back to town. Whenever someone asks me, ‘What is there to do in Milwaukee?”, I tell them to get a Friday fish fry at Kegel’s Inn, some frozen custard from Kopp’s and to spend an afternoon at the Milwaukee Art Museum.
Quadracci Pavilion under construction, October 2000Quadracci Pavilion, November 2008
We returned to Colorado for the first time in a decade. One highlight of our trip was a visit to Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness, which is located in the White River National Forest.
It’s easiest to get to this remote locale by a shuttle bus near Aspen; we booked our tickets for the bus two months in advance given that we’d be there close to peak fall foliage.
For near-optimal viewing conditions (and to avoid large crowds), our bus was at 7:30 on a Thursday morning. Even for late September, it was so cold that there was some frost on our rental car; I’d also wished I brought mittens along for my freezing fingers.
It was all worth it. So named for their shape, the two peaks that make up Maroon Bells were gorgeous, especially against all the yellows of the surrounding aspen trees.
Rather than attempt a more strenuous hike deeper into the woods, we stuck to the basic “scenic” path, a loop whose furthest point is the bridge pictured above.
Viewed from that bridge, the tableau is straight out of a painting.
I could stare at this view in person all day (and luckily, the temperatures rose considerably throughout the morning.)
I’m sure this would’ve looked perfectly lovely without the changing leaf colors, but still–this was a treat to see.
The two peaks are the park’s main attraction, but other mountain ranges are visible in most directions.
We lucked out with such bold, blue skies.
Back towards the loop’s beginning later in the morning, the foliage practically popped against the tall pines and the rocks and dirt of the mountains.
The trail back to the starting point, around 10 AM. A full day of possibilities awaited us.
In 2007, I posted a list of my 25 favorite funniest films; since we need humor more than ever, here’s an updated version with a few new entries.
1. YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN (director: Mel Brooks, 1974): As if anything else could be on top. A gifted cast (from Gene Wilder’s virtuoso, operatic comic performance to Madeline Kahn’s divine, sordid brilliance) and a hilarious, stoopid-cerebral screenplay (from “walk this way… no, this way” to “He… vas… my… BOYFRIEND!”) come together in a service of an irreverent but sympathetic genre tribute.
2. BRINGING UP BABY (Howard Hawks, 1938): Anyone crafting a romantic comedy today should study this smart, breezy one and take note of Cary Grant’s and Katharine Hepburn’s giddy, contagious chemistry, which arguably no pair has topped since.
3. MONTY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL (Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones, 1974): I loved it for the laughs as a teenager. Now, I just can’t get over how conceptually weird and formally absurd it is–a crowd pleasing, sublimely silly avant-garde comedy.
4. A CHRISTMAS STORY (Bob Clark, 1983): This pitch-perfect adaptation of various essays from master humorist Jean Shepherd endures because of how easily recognizable he made his childhood without diluting its sting.
5. THIS IS SPINAL TAP (Rob Reiner, 1984): Although ALL YOU NEED IS CASH preceded it, this is the grandaddy of most mockumentaries. It works because it gets inside its targets’ skins all too well, and you’ll never see more finely tuned deadpan delivery elsewhere. So good I’m actually hesitant to watch this year’s long-belated sequel.
6. AIRPLANE! (Zucker/Abrahams/Zucker, 1980): This beats anything else on the list for laughs-per-second: no other film comes close. A fine balance of playing it straight and total anarchy, it throws every gag it can possibly think of up on the screen, and it’s remarkable how many of ’em stick.
7. THE LADY EVE (Preston Sturges, 1941): Essential classic slapstick-heavy screwball romantic comedy written and directed by the perfector of it. Fonda and Stanwyck were never funnier and the scenes at the Pike family home are as inspired as anything by the Marx Brothers (see #19 below).
8. NINE TO FIVE (Colin Higgins, 1980): A deliciously dark feminist office comedy, it briefly revived screwball in the irony deficient 80’s, showed that Dolly Parton could hold her own as a comedienne with Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda, and makes the top ten chiefly for its gleefully wicked fantasy sequences.
9. BEST IN SHOW (Christopher Guest, 2000): I’ve wavered between this and WAITING FOR GUFFMAN as Guest’s quintessential mock-doc (the latter was on this list’s first iteration) but as far as funny goes, for me, his dog show satire now eclipses his community theater one because you expect weirdoes in the latter, not so much here. Lynch, Coolidge, Willard, Levy, Posey—all of them doing hall-of-fame level work.
10. ELECTION (Alexander Payne, 1999): This sharp, nasty, Preston Sturges-worthy comic fable has aged extremely well, wringing laughs from the very painful realization that high school isn’t all that different from adulthood. Matthew Broderick and Reese Witherspoon have never been better.
11. SLEEPER (Woody Allen, 1973): Not his “best” film but certainly the craziest and quickest-paced. Only Allen could get away with a throwaway line about getting beaten up by Quakers or something as wonderfully insane as the climatic cloning (croning?) sequence (and Diane Keaton proves his equal in the funny department.)
12. HAIRSPRAY (John Waters, 1988): Leave it to the risqué Waters to nearly achieve household name status with this PG-rated satire, which features a star turn from a pre-tabloid talk show Ricki Lake, an odd, odd cast (Debbie Harry and Jerry Stiller!), and a sweet, if slightly warped sensibility.
13. THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS (Wes Anderson, 2001): Perhaps more moving a “comedy” than any other film on this list, the comic stuff tempers but never obscures the tragic stuff in Anderson’s endearingly quirky family portrait.
14. FLIRTING WITH DISASTER (David O. Russell, 1996): The closest the 90’s came to a true screwball comedy, it’s a riot packed with armpit licking, baby naming, last name-mispronunciation, and a surprisingly, successfully acidic Mary Tyler Moore.
15. HAROLD AND MAUDE (Hal Ashby, 1971): “Has all the fun and gaiety of a burning orphanage” went one of the original reviews and while not always a laugh riot, the film’s shaggy, disarming (and at times exceedingly black) humor never fails to make me smile.
16. A SERIOUS MAN (Joel and Ethan Coen, 2009): From RAISING ARIZONA to THE BIG LEBOWSKI, the Coens earned their comedy stripes but this is their funniest effort, not to mention their most personal and possibly darkest film. It takes chutzpah to present a fully-formed philosophy summed up as “YOU CAN’T WIN” and find the hilarity in that.
17. OFFICE SPACE (Mike Judge, 1999): Taping into the slacker-cum-office drone zeitgeist, this cult classic would be only a wish fulfillment fantasy if it didn’t hit so uncomfortably close to home for so many.
18. TOOTSIE (Sydney Pollack, 1982): An insightful comedy that transcends its concept (and inevitable datedness), since it evokes a world of issues and ideas that encompasses more than the words, “Dustin Hoffman does drag.”
19. DUCK SOUP (Leo McCarey, 1933): For an act that came from the vaudeville tradition, The Marx Brothers must have seemed incredibly subversive in their cinematic heyday, and they still do today.
20. A NEW LEAF (Elaine May, 1971): Brilliant, not only for casting Walter Matthau as a priggish, trust fund cad or Elaine May directing herself as a proto-Shelley Duvall character, but also for May convincing Matthau to get so thoroughly soaked in the film’s outrageous finale.
21. ALL ABOUT EVE (Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1950): Packed with at least four iconic characters/performances and endlessly quotable, it’s possibly the funniest Best Picture Academy Award winner ever (and also one of the best, period.)
22. ALL OF ME (Carl Reiner, 1984): Lily Tomlin always brings her A-Game (see #8, #14, THE LATE SHOW, etc.) but here even she’s nearly outshined by Steve Martin whose graceful and deliriously silly physical dexterity practically invents Jim Carrey’s entire shtick on the spot.
23. THE TRIPLETS OF BELLEVILLE (Sylvain Chomet, 2003): This very French animated feature is heavily indebted to silent silver screen clowns from Chaplin and Keaton to Tati, yet it’s one-of-a-kind: rarely has humor derived from the surreal or the grotesque seemed so charming.
24. THE IN-LAWS (Arthur Hiller, 1979): You wouldn’t think so on paper, but Peter Falk and Alan Arkin are an ideal mismatched duo to the point where they could’ve easily starred on a reboot of THE ODD COUPLE. Also, the Richard Libertini sequence makes me laugh harder than anything else I’ve ever seen (even AIRPLANE!)
25. HUNDREDS OF BEAVERS (Mike Cheslik, 2022): I’ve used the trope “like a live-action Warner Bros cartoon” many, many times, but no film has so fully lived up to such a description as this demented effort that, to quote and old tourism campaign, is truly Something Special from Wisconsin.
Jens Lekman’s epic new album Songs For Other People’s Weddings has me thinking about my own wedding. Twelve years ago today, Steve and I got married in an outdoor ceremony at the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens near Boothbay Harbor. It’s one of our favorite places and seemed like the best possible space to exchange vows even if it meant some degree of travel for most of our fifty-odd guests.
Keeping the event intimate, rather than hiring a DJ or a band, we put together two iTunes playlists for the reception: the second one was for the dancefloor with all the usual suspects (“Dancing Queen”, “Groove Is In the Heart”, the then-new “Get Lucky”) along with a sprinkling of personal favorites like Calexico’s “Crystal Frontier (Widescreen Mix)”; more of the latter informed the first playlist which soundtracked our cocktail hour and dinner.
I know I printed out copies of both playlists but can’t find either of them now. Thus, I’ve recreated the first one below to the best of my memory. It has plenty of theme-appropriate love songs including one I put on my first mix CD for Steve (“I’ve Been Waiting”), a few long-beloved standards (“Time After Time”, “Not Enough Time”, “Then Came You”) and other classics that have become 21st century Gen-X friendly wedding reception staples (“This Must Be The Place”, “Friday I’m In Love”).
Such a mix would not be complete with some of our all-time favorite songs. Steve requested “A Message” and “Somewhere Only We Know”; I made sure there was room for “This Is The Day”, “Elevator Love Letter” and “I’d Rather Dance With You” (and also “Spanish Flea” for fun) and together we wanted “California Stars” and “Into the Mystic”. “Santa Fe” looked forward to our honeymoon, while the cover of “Just Like Heaven” that ends this playlist actually led off the second one as it is what we chose for our first dance.
I have so many memories of that evening (many of them increasingly blurry as it went by in such a whirlwind) but one of the happiest was sitting at the head table, my husband next to me, and the euphoric Saint Etienne song that gives this mix its title playing overhead. If I had rarely known happiness and bliss beforehand, I felt both sensations in full force all around me at that very moment.
Nothing Can Stop Us: Chris & Steve, 9/21/2013
The Cure, “Friday I’m In Love”
Aretha Franklin, “Baby, I Love You”
Cyndi Lauper, “Time After Time”
Ivy, “This Is The Day”
Beirut, “Santa Fe”
Kings of Convenience, “I’d Rather Dance With You”
Washed Out, “All I Know”
Kirsty MacColl, “In These Shoes?”
Florence + The Machine, “Cosmic Love”
Coldplay, “A Message”
Billy Bragg & Wilco, “California Stars”
Matthew Sweet, “I’ve Been Waiting”
Van Morrison, “Into The Mystic”
Talking Heads, “This Must Be The Place (Naïve Melody)”
The Spinners & Dionne Warwick, “Then Came You”
Saint Etienne, “Nothing Can Stop Us”
Luna, “Lovedust”
Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass, “Spanish Flea”
Pink Martini, “Hey Eugene!”
Michael Kiwanuka, “I’m Getting Ready”
Keane, “Somewhere Only We Know”
K.D. Lang & The Siss Boom Bang, “The Water’s Edge”
Round three includes a few records I’ve been meaning/waiting to hear for years (in some cases, decades) and others from years ago I hadn’t heard of until recently.
41. Charles Mingus, “Let My Children Hear Music” (1972): Late-period Mingus although you’d never guess since it’s as robust as early or prime-period Mingus (his artistry was that consistent.) The large ensemble allows his intricate arrangements to swell, and breathe, even on the recitation track.
42. Rosali, “No Medium” (2021): I’m far from the first to claim having trouble telling her voice apart from Aimee Mann’s in a blind test; how matter how uncanny the resemblance, her music is its own thing. Love how the acoustic opener gives little inclination to how electric and loud she can be.
43. Madonna, “Evita: The Complete Motion Picture Soundtrack” (1996): Just like JCS (the only Webber/Rice show I know well), the cheesiness gets by on its conviction & verve. An icon playing an icon requires a balancing act here steadied by the vulnerable catch in Madge’s vocals (trained or not.)
44. Bastille, “& (Ampersand)” (2024): Relatively stripped-down arrangements are most encouraging for a band so beholden to bombast & “Blue Sky & The Painter” proves Dan Smith hasn’t lost his knack for hooks (it’s this album’s “Pompeii”); the rest, while thoughtfully crafted tend to blur together.
45. The Auteurs, “After Murder Park” (1996): Third time not the charm as it pales somewhat compared to their first two. Blame Britpop oversaturation or just falling into formula although lyrics (“Unsolved Child Murder”) are still sharp, anticipating Haines’ next project more than the wan music.
46. ELO, “A New World Record” (1976): With such eccentric hit singles (“I’m TAKING / a DIVE!”), of course the deep cuts lean towards orchestral appropriations and operatic flourishes. Lynne could’ve sold out after “Evil Woman”; instead, he crafted a concise distillation of oddball pop, and it sold.
47. Marika Hackman, “Big Sigh” (2024): I can name numerous singers I like whom Hackman reminds me of but I’m not yet sure what distinguishes her from them. For example, Cassandra Jenkins could craft a blurry, sonic playground like “Vitamins” but would she title one of her catchiest songs “Slime”?
48. Don Armando’s 2nd Ave Rhumba Band, “Deputy of Love” (1979): See, disco can be campy *and* classy. This August Darnell production even quotes the “Bonanza” theme with some subtlety. Happily, there’s nothing restrained about the glorious cover of “I’m An Indian Too” from Annie Get Your Gun.
49. Echobelly, “Lustra” (1997): Follow-up to “On” (an all-time fave) didn’t get a US release at the time which tells you more about record co. hijinks than a dip in quality. While not as brisk or sparkly, Sonya Madan’s still in fine form with guitars occasionally edging closer to shoegaze bliss.
50. Liza Minnelli, “Results” (1989): Like Streisand & Barry Gibb a decade before, Liza & Pet Shop Boys mesh together beautifully covering Sondheim, Tikaram, Elliman and of course Tennant/Lowe (even if “Rent” retains more power when sung by a boy.) A gutsy experiment that shouldn’t work but does.
51. a.s.o., “a.s.o.” (2023): I dug trip-hop in the 90s & still love it now; the prospect of trying to recreate that sound has promise & I wouldn’t necessarily mistake this for Morcheeba, Portishead, etc. but it’s merely pleasant—a sonic bath agreeably wafting overhead but nothing that lingers on.
52. The Upsetters, “Return of the Super Ape” (1978): A massive sound that’s also most intimate with each percussive clang and ting nearly synchronizing with heavy basslines, its vocals alternately smooth like a calm breeze and as dense as a clogged drain. The reggae Kinks to the Wailers’ Beatles?
53. Original Cast Recording, “Operation Mincemeat” (2023): As I attempt to appreciate modern musicals more, this British WWII-set one is a prize, conforming to genre conventions & also slyly rewriting them, tempering period swing jazz with newer genres, accentuating story but never obscuring heart.
54. Jens Lekman & Annika Norlin, “CORRESPONDENCE” (2019): A year-long, two-way musical conversation between two Swedes. Mostly acoustic with some orchestral flourishes, he muses on endless beauty and badly-aged movies, she on cults and lengthy winters; they both find solace in each other’s words.
55. Hot Chocolate, “Cicero Park” (1974): Why is top 10 hit “Emma” forgotten but “You Sexy Thing” still gets played up the wazoo? Debut LP from these Brits is almost a Steely Dan informed by funk & soul rather than jazz & irony with nary a weak cut in the bunch—even the one called “Disco Lady” rocks.
56. Arooj Aftab, Vijay Iyer, Shahzad Ismaily, “Love In Exile” (2023): Even though Aftab’s sinuous vocals naturally dominate, this is more a communion between the three artists than singer-with-backup. Often stretched out to nearly fifteen minutes, their “songs” develop into epic, freeform poems.
57. Dory Previn, “Dory Previn” (1974): Less noteworthy for her vocals than her point of view, she’s almost the Shelley Duvall of pop music except not necessarily eccentric; quirky, for sure—even her most conventional tunes emit perspective and feelings that are homegrown rather than manufactured.
58. Elton John, “The Fox” (1981): Not difficult to see why this flopped as it sounds like little else of its time (apart from the yacht rock of “Chloe”). Since the title track & “Breaking Down Barriers” could fit on any of his prime 70s albums, call this one ambitious, overreaching & underrated.
59. Foxing, “Nearer My God” (2018): If I were 15 years younger this could’ve hit me as directly upon release as Death Cab For Cutie’s “Transatlanticism” did. This is far more experimental and messier but after a few songs one admires their ever-widening scope and refusal to settle for less.
60. The Soundcarriers, “Celeste” (2010): Deftly aims for that precarious spot midway between The Doors & Sergio Mendes & Brasil ’66: plenty of organs, flutes and mind-melting harmonies like a less bro-tastic Fleet Foxes. Somehow both cool & uncool in equal measure, deliberate anachronisms & all.
Honorable Mentions: Burn!, Coming Apart, The Magic Christian, My Night at Maud’s, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, Sweet Charity
For My Watchlist: Age of Consent, Boy, Last Summer, Lions Love, The Milky Way, The Passion of Anna, The Sterile Cuckoo
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That halcyon year before Covid, the theatre I worked at put on a “Summer of ‘69” series spotlighting some of that year’s chestnuts on their fiftieth anniversary (plus the documentary Woodstock, a thrill to take in on the big screen in all its split-screen glory.) As part of this series, for the first time I saw Medium Cool and Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid; easy to see why the latter was a phenomenon although it felt a little creaky a half century on while the former was revelatory for its docu-fiction hybrid and Robert Forster’s presence. In this series, I also rewatched Midnight Cowboy, whose Best Picture win remains galvanizing—proof of how quickly the culture was changing—and Sweet Charity, flawed and mawkish but still containing three or four of the all-time best musical sequences in film.
However, Army of Shadows was an easy choice for the top slot. Not officially released in the US until 2006 (I first saw it then at the Kendall Square Cinema), this moody, minimalist account of French resistance fighters during World War II is still my favorite Jean-Pierre Melville film even if the Alain Delon-starring Le Samourai from two years before remains his most popular and iconic. Simone Signoret might have won an Oscar a decade earlier for Room At The Top but had this received a domestic release at the time, she should have been a shoo-in for another one.
Kes and They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? were relatively recentdiscoveries as were Funeral Parade of Roses and Putney Swope though I had no qualms about rating the first two far higher than the others. Z, which originally required three separate viewings for me to stay awake through is one I’d love to revisit, ideally in a cinema. A very recent watch, Ken Russell’s currently non-streaming Women in Love (recorded off of TCM) is one of his best thanks in part to Glenda Jackson’s tremendous performance. Still, if you want the most accurate vision of what 1969 was really like, check out the Maysles brothers’ Salesman, a documentary about door-to-door bible hawkers that plays out like Death of a Salesman (minus the death) in real time.
I have my own reasons for each of my watchlist selections (Agnes Varda, Michael Powell’s obscure last film, one of Liza Minnelli’s first, etc.) and almost caught Last Summer when it appeared on TCM’s schedule a year or two ago but then either failed to record on my DVR or didn’t air at all. If the cable network ever gets really adventurous and screen Milton Moses Ginsberg’s Coming Apart (which I last saw decades ago in grad school with the director in attendance), I wouldn’t mind returning to this single-shot, Rip Torn-starring oddity.
Haunted Jukebox 