Do we really ever listen to records the way we used to?

Despite the ever-rising popularity of vinyl and the resilience of the album format, it’s impossible to tell if there is a corresponding rise in ‘focused listening’ at home - the idea of putting the record on, sitting back on the sofa and just - listening

It’s really quite hard to do. Harder than it should be. Even if you really love music, it's too easy to have a guilt complex for immersing ourselves undistracted in the 40 minutes it takes to get through an album end-to-end.*

There is a growing trend for focused listening sessions outside of our humble abodes. To learn the habit of listening better, we need to get out more. Every week there are album playbacks and listening parties, sometimes for a modest ticket price and sometimes totally free of charge. These are hosted by labels, artist management/PR teams or brands.

Last Friday I had the pleasure of attending one at the KEF Music Gallery on Great Portland Street. The album was Michael Kiwanuka’s highly anticipated ‘Small Changes’, played through a surround sound setup like I’ve never heard before, in the KEF ‘cinema room’. Listening from start to finish, you can either choose to focus hard on the sounds (the details will blow your senses apart) or just drift off into a trance. I oscillated between the two altered states. The album is brilliant of course, a modern classic. But to be introduced to it in this way really was special. You can sign up for details of future events. 

There are a few well established ‘experience brands’ out there that make an event out of focused listening away from home. I’ve written about Pitchblack Playback before, and would heartily recommend it.

More traditional in spirit is Classic Album Sundays. Founded by DJ Colleen ‘Cosmo’ Murphy in 2010, with the intention of promoting the enjoyment of true listening as the age of digital took hold, CAS is still going strong. In her introductions to each intimate event, Colleen often talks about the culture of communal listening - sharing the joy of a record together like we used to, back when there was less of…everything. 

I attended a session last week - back at KEF again but on the shop floor this time. It was the funk-electronic classic Penthouse & Pavement, the debut album of Heaven 17 (ranked the fifth best album of 1981 by NME). A playback (on vinyl of course) through ultra high end KEF speakers was preceded by a fun and often fascinating chat between Colleen and keyboard player/songwriter Martin Ware. The two had clearly done this routine a few times before. 

My favourite insight here was a reminder that side one of the record was electro-funk, inspired by Motown, James Brown and Chic, whereas side two gives way to hardcore, stripped down electronics. For side one, a then 17 year old black (in Sheffield, in 1981) waiter John Wilson was recruited (from the local catering company) to play bass and rhythm guitar. He turned out to be a prodigy who could play lead bass riffs and funk guitar like Nile Rodgers and Bernhard Edwards combined into one, albeit on cheap copy instruments. 

Lyrically the album features themes such as faceless capitalism, fascist politics, nuclear warfare and the cold war arms race and as such is shockingly contemporary not just in the way it sounds. And it sounded fantastic

Classic Album Sundays makes you realise the amount of work that goes into making an album (all the records played are de facto, classics) by both accident and design. The little insights fascinate and entice the listening experience. The power of context. Most of all it reminds you to listen, both as a fan, an appreciator of the art form - a sort of antidote to the distractions you get at home. 

Album listening sessions have been trending up since the pandemic - both IRL and online. Bandcamp has made a success of online album listening parties and these are firmly in the marketing plans of indie releases on the platform. Tim Burgess was bang on trend during the pandemic with his enormously popular “Tim’s Twitter Listening Party” (now ironically on Absolute Radio and as a podcast). Although it’s not quite as dynamic as a radio format, it’s still a joy. 

Which brings me to Hangout. Hangout is the latest music streaming service to launch, with music licences from all three majors. There’s too much to say about it here, but the proposition could not be more different from the intimate in-person experience of Classic Album Sundays. 

Whether or not communal listening will find a place online is still to be seen. Spotify Jams has been available for sometime, if troubled by glitches. But my sense is that it is not an innovation that’s moved any needles for the streaming service. 

So, in myriad ways, listening sessions are in the ascendant, despite all the modern world fractionalisation of social media and busy lives. An antidote to rushing through your life is everywhere around you. If you are yet to participate I would strongly suggest you get involved and start enjoying your music on a completely different level. It’s good for you and ultimately for artists and record makers. 

A music habit worth acquiring.

* Try it! I appreciate that not everyone has a set up at home that can open up the possibility for focused listening, either privately or communally. If you house share, when was the last time you sat around listening together to an album?


The Art Of Listening series is also on the Featured Artists Coalition webpages.

Can AI help with my Listening Anxiety?

[The Art of Listening is now published by the FAC. The Featured Artists Coalition is the UK trade body representing the specific rights and interests of music artists].



Earlier this year, I wrote an essay on my blog, called “My Ears Are Not Oysters” in which I set a new goal to listen to less music. In that post I set out my logic but in a nutshell, the idea was to appreciate music more, sipping it rather than drinking it from a firehose of streaming services and a rising pile of vinyl records. A few months on I am writing to report my progress. 

It’s been hopeless. 

Who am I kidding? Of course my ears are oysters. The problem, if you can call it that, is simply too much really good music. During September, the slate of new album releases by some of my favourite artists was rich: Nick Cave, Tindersticks, Chilly Gonzales, Jake Bugg, Joan As Police Woman, Gemma Hayes, The Smile (album no. 2 of 2), Maximo Park, Mercury Rev, Public Service Broadcasting and Floating Points. All of these records are class

Add to this some new releases by new artists I’m intrigued by, served up by various recommendation sources (more on this to follow): Fousheé, Gurriers, Katy J Pearson, Rio 18 (Radio Chevere) and Christian Lee Hutson. 

I was already still playing catch up on my favourite summer releases by Fontaines, Los Campesinos!, Jack White, Manu Chao, Nada Surf, Honeyglaze and Wunderhorse. 

On top of this, I feel a duty to give the Beabadoobee album another go (I love to hear those transitional records by artists that are ‘maturing’ their sound) and have a morbid fascination to check out Coldplay’s Moon Music, after Will Hodgskinson of The Times said that Chris Martin sounds like a “groovy Vicar” (he does indeed). 

Bear with me…there is a punchline.

On my curiosity list (yet to be played) are new records by Leon Bridges, London Grammar, David Gilmour, Nick Lowe, Orlando Weeks, The Linda Lindas, Thee Sacred Souls and Rahim C Redcar (aka Christine and the Queens aka Chris). 

Finally, like you I’m anticipating new releases by some more greats in the coming months: Michael Kiwanuka, David Gray, Father John Misty, Bon Iver, Jerry Cantrell, Underworld, Laura Marling. Oh, and THE CURE!

I’ve been vocal in the past about Spotify’s lack of emphasis on the art form that is the album, but since the platform finally did something and introduced Countdown, it has sort of increased my listening anxiety even further…(this isn’t a criticism, I think Countdown is great, if long overdue). 

Now, from the above list, I’ve bound to have missed quite a few, but you get the point - the above is already quite enough for two overworked ears. My policy of listening to less has been a categorical failure and my Listening Anxiety* is higher than ever. 

So far I’ve only talked about new music. If I was to get into catalogue at this point, it’s possible that I might either explode or curl up and make a vow to a life of silence. Just briefly though, I will have to mention that since I started reading the biography of Lawrence by Will Hodgkinson (him again, adding to my listening anxiety through brilliantly arranging words on a page) I am now committed to familiarising myself with the catalogue of Felt and Denim, two bands I knew absolutely nothing about but between them amassed some 11 studio albums. 

Is it just me or are other music fans ‘suffering’ out there? Now, I realise that listening anxiety is up there with first world problems such as the rising price of a flat white and choosing a family film on Netflix, but it is a problem, isn’t it? Surely it's not just me and Steve Lamacq. 

As a music fanatic, I am constantly toggling between the thrill of the new record versus building familiarity through repeated (even obsessive) listening. And then still finding space for those favourite records that come with a guarantee to lift the mood. I’ve tried many solutions in the past. Switching from albums to songs and playlists (didn’t work - too many songs). Reserving proper listening sessions for vinyl only (didn’t work - too expensive). Reserving two evenings a week to focus on listening on headphones (didn’t work - not enough time). 

But, discerning listeners, I have another, brand new solution. 

I’ve always felt like the different entertainment verticals - music, TV, film, games, books - are very different from each other. But the more ‘content’ flowing our way, the more I feel like they are essentially similar - a trade-off decision as to how you want to spend the next precious hour of our lives. 

So here is a new listening regime I am practising for the next few months: listening just once

I’m going to give all the above mentioned new albums a go with the acceptance that I may only hear these records just once. Like watching a movie or reading a book or a TV series. For sure, if I think I’m going to really love the record, I’ll give it another spin. There’s always a chance then it’ll become a favourite, and I’ll commit to buying the vinyl. But it’s unlikely. Or I can impose a limit - choose one album a month to stick with in some form or other. 

I wonder then, if Spotify can help here? Or maybe this is more in the wheelhouse of the delightful hi-res music underdog Qobuz (excellent album recommendations btw!). As with Countdown, could streaming services help with scheduling focused album Listening Sessions? 

You use the app to schedule the session, and once done, the album evaporates from your library (unless you have given it a thumbs up or save). The session can be personal or shared. It works like a Bandcamp Listening Party, but is more a feature for fans/listeners rather than a promotional vehicle for artists. 

You can always access the data from your sessions history - perhaps nicely visualised at the end of the year, like Wrapped. It will remind you of those albums you have yet to listen to and give you the option to hold or discard it. In an ideal world, this would develop (using AI of course), to measure your emotional response, data that might help decide whether to listen again or let it go. 

It’s just a thought. Countdown has restored my faith to some extent that streaming can help us appreciate albums, but it feels like just the start. After all, albums are not going anywhere - they are still the ideal format for music despite the ever-changing tech and cultural landscape.

* A slight variation on the official definition of the condition but surely a valid thing for all enthusiastic music fans

P.s. Fortunately, I have no interest in listening to AI generated music, so no fear of that contributing to the problem, but I would be interested in an AI that can multiply my capacity for listening time…solve that one music tech community!

FIVE BRITISH/IRISH BANDS SET FOR LONGEVITY AND LEGEND

National Album Day UK 2024 has a theme of ‘great British groups’ (did Oasis time everything perfectly for this reunion?). In this post, I focus on the new crop of great British (and Irish) bands that have crossed The Rubicon - the point at which it is for them to decide how the rest of their career goes and no one else. Hopefully.

https://unsplash.com/@reganography Image by Samuel Regan-Asante

There is nothing better than a band in the ascendant - an unstoppable upward trajectory - on a roll. In the streaming era, with attention spans frayed, content flowing thick and fast everywhere and now AI looming to replace ‘real’ music, it’s more satisfying than ever to see bands and artists grow. For me this is especially true in the rock world. And since ‘indie is the new rock’ this applies to indie as well. It’s hard to speak in genre terms these days. I suppose ‘music with guitars, bass and drums’ might be the most accurate way to say it. 

Having discussed and dissected the art of longevity and survival in the music business a fair bit now, I’m especially pleased to see that bands can grow in stature in the way they always did, despite the ongoing pressure and a rather daunting checklist of ‘must achieves’, including:

  1. Make some really good songs.

  2. Find an audience.

  3. Get some representation: manager, publisher, label, lawyer.

  4. Build a fanbase.

  5. Impress industry gatekeepers.

  6. Make a decent debut album. 

  7. Focus on the music YOU want to make.

  8. Change creative course as necessary.

  9. Improve your stagecraft.

  10. Become commercially viable.

  11. Stay together…and stay sane.

  12. Rinse and repeat.

The potential for longevity checklist goes on. It isn’t easy running the record industry gauntlet. And that’s just on the way up. Through the downs (and there will be downs) bands will have to overcome all manner of adversity and setbacks, enough to draw up another checklist, for another article. 

It isn’t plain sailing from here, however. Even bands who cross The Rubicon will always be hungry and never satisfied, because it is creative longevity they seek really. They want to make a dent in the culture and a ding in the universe. They want their music to keep on getting better. They want to leave a legacy, and even become legend. That’s partly why bands like Radiohead and Arctic Monkeys are so revered. Not only have they achieved all of the above, but they did it on their own terms - that’s just the way it had to be. 

The second, third and fourth legs of the journey of a band are in many ways harder than the initial rise to ‘the top’. So in a sense, here is a potted ‘situation analysis’ for some of those bands with the potential to become household names, not just ‘popular’ but perhaps even known to your mum and dad, son or daughter or that friend who's not so much into music as you are. You dear reader will probably know these bands of course. But if not - remind yourself of these rare talents who just might go the distance.

Nothing But Thieves

Formed in 2012 in Southend-on-Sea, this English rock band has a classic five-piece line up with two lead guitar players (although they also play samplers and keyboards). The line-up is lead vocalist and guitarist Conor Mason, guitarist Joe Langridge-Brown, guitarist and keyboardist Dominic Craik, bassist Philip Blake, and drummer James Price. In 2014, they signed to RCA Records and have now released four albums with the UK major, the most recent, Dead Club City, getting to number one on the UK album charts. 

The band’s debut album wasn’t a critical success but has aged into a modern classic, containing a few genuine anthems. Singer Conor Mason has an unusual appeal combined with a signature voice with fantastic, operatic range, and the band is a growing force live (their 2024 Glastonbury set was storming). All round, they come across as a sort-of modern incarnation of Led Zeppelin and that’s saying something. The fourth album is a watershed for really good bands and Dead Club City paves the way for this one to go from very good to undeniably great. The band hasn’t had any hits and doesn’t need any. They have a sizable loyal fanbase. RCA records seems to have gotten it right with Nothing But Thieves, making the band a priority without over-hyping them. If anything, they are still underrated. They are about to embark on an US tour - probably an attempt to break there. Whether it succeeds or not, the band has everything needed for longevity, including most importantly, time. 

Fontaines D.C.

The Dublin (as in D.C.) band consists of Grian Chatten (vocals), Conor Curley (guitar), Conor Deegan III (bass), Tom Coll (drums) and Carlos O'Connell (guitar). I’ve heard ‘Fontaines’ described as “the best band in the world” twice in the space of one week by people on the radio, such is the band’s ascendancy curve. If Q Magazine still existed, and still handed out that award, Fontaines would be a dead cert winner for 2024. Since no such thing exists we might perhaps rephrase the accolade to “the hottest band around right now”. Quite rightly in my humble opinion. The band’s fourth album Romance took them to a new label, XL, after three albums with Partisan Records (who must have been gutted to lose them, but still have IDLES and an impressive roster). 

For Fontaines, the game has been ‘upped’ with a new producer and a set of really good songs (and a new anthem in ‘Favourite’) drawn from a wider genre palette. The band has also realised that ‘styling’ is a factor and they have come out with this record literally looking more the part (shout out to wearing Thin Lizzy T shirts lads). Given the band is essentially a sum of their influences, their sound is both derivative but somehow fresh - an exact requirement for potential longevity. Frontman and lyricist Grian Chatten has a way with words and an edgy stage presence. Live, the band is exciting but has work to do to become truly impressive at the same time. If anything, 2024 will require Fontaines to stay grounded and focused on their craft, as there is a danger of them becoming over-hyped. But right now the stars are aligning, with each subsequent of their (four) albums hitting a creative, critical and commercial ‘next level’ feel. Romance isn’t a masterpiece but is close enough, signalling the band has one in them. So, if longevous bands have their best work ahead of them, greatness beckons for Fontaines D.C. and praise be the bandwagon keeps on rolling. Their success has even paved a way for a crop of new Dublin guitar bands, including New Dad, Gurriers, so in some ways a legacy is stamped already. 

Wolf Alice

Wolf Alice are a rock band from London. Formed in 2010 as a duo, singer Ellie Rowsell and guitarist Joff Oddie ‘upgraded’ the band to a classic four piece, adding bassist Theo Ellis and drummer Joel Amey. As Chrissie Hynde might say: “is there anything better than a four piece rock & roll band?”. This rhetorical question from one of rock & roll’s greatest frontwomen won’t be lost on Ellie Rowsell. It’s clear the band are enjoying their ride towards greatness thus far, and working very hard at it. 

The stakes have been raised by Wolf Alice - a position they’ve chosen for themselves it seems. Their fourth album is very highly anticipated - in other words comes with dangerously high expectations - especially since they ‘switched up’ from an indie (Dirty Hit) to a major label, Columbia Records. Third album Blue Weekend was superb and topping it won’t be easy. Wolf Alice will have to either make a masterpiece, or ‘do a Kid A’ - something left of field but impressive - although I can only assume Columbia is very much expecting the former, not the latter. A strong fourth record would see the band poised for the very top, with Emily Eavis probably having their phone number at the ready for the big call up. That’s if Glastonbury still wants rock bands as headliners!

Like both Nothing But Thieves and Fontaines D.C., Wolf Alice have yet to catch on in the U.S.A., again probably something entering Columbia’s thought process. As said, the stakes are raised, but the band seems up for it - everything is set for that perfect music industry scenario: “next level success”. Next, longevity and legend status. Just don’t blow it folks. 

Sam Fender

I’m adding SF to the list even though he is of course, technically, a solo artist. However, Fender has a core band of loyal sidemen - his close mates. Even if they won’t ever become household names, they are to Sam what the E Street Band is to Bruce, with whom he is of course, compared. Is he worthy? The music industry shorthand must always make such comparisons but in this case, who would argue? He is the Springsteen of South Shields, The North, even the whole of Britain. Sam has already won over Glastonbury (calling card for future headline slot very much placed on the Eavis desk) and even receives advice from Sting. Sam Fender is a superstar already, although there is a question mark over whether he wants to be. That will have his major label reps in occasional night sweats. No pressure then, Sam. 

Two (UK number one) albums in, the expectations are for a great third record, preferably with another theme along the lines of bona fide hit Seventeen Going Under. And even if breaking the USA shouldn’t be a priority or a necessity, it feels like no other artist is rendering troubadour rock & roll quite like Sam Fender, even if that has been territory forever occupied by American artists (male and female). The last time Brits invaded American cultural territory so effectively might have been The Rolling Stones and they have stuck around you might say. SF has it all. Great songs, real deal working class roots, fantastic stage presence, classic album credentials. He is yet another potentially great artist under the wing of a major label (did you think major labels were just TikTok addicts these days?). Perhaps the more telling question is whether the modern music industry - and specifically Polydor Records - can accommodate and nurture such a talent into global stardom. We should all keep our fingers firmly crossed. 

Another Sky

Time for me to go out on a limb. Another Sky is a London based rock band composed of Catrin Vincent (vocals), Max Doohan (Drums), Naomi Le Dune (bass), and Jack Gilbert on drums. The band is two albums in (on Fiction, again within a major label structure this time Universal). 

This band has, in many ways, renewed my love of rock music. Think Talk Talk, U2, early Coldplay even - to bring crude music industry comparisons into it - and you’ll be getting warm. Another Sky might be derivative, but Catrin Vincent has a unique voice (a “once in a generation voice” according to one review) while the band plays really, really well. Their first two albums (and E.P. in-between) sound fantastic. Beach Day is especially impressive. They are old school in every sense, while their youth imbibes the music with the energy of early U2 and Radiohead records. 

Those first two albums didn’t chart, and so the band is yet to have any kind of real break. And yet their commitment to their art seems complete, they are destined to achieve some level of sustainable success, surely? Who would be an A&R man for rock bands in this day & age? Breaking a band with progressive rock leanings is not for the faint of heart, but then see above (Wolf Alice). The band just postponed a forthcoming UK tour, so I’m praying everything is okay and they can hold it together and work their way through the checklist. One thing with longevity is you’ve got to stay on the bus - the music industry is an ‘in it to win it’ business. 

You’ll no doubt have your own list of favourites. Indeed, one of the best things about the ‘band’ scene right now is that there is no shortage of great bands with lots of potential. The return of guitar bands intrigues me. Wunderhorse, Been Stellar, New Dad, Mercury Prize winners English Teacher, buzzed up The Last Dinner Party and Wet Leg - they are all really good, already. The last British band to become a household name is probably Arctic Monkeys and they arrived almost 20 years ago. Whether the bands mentioned here will reach anything close to Sheffield’s finest is unlikely. The music industry is a harder environment for bands to thrive in than it used to be. Labels can take less risk by signing a bedroom pop solo artist with a social media following. Bands have to share the paltry spoils from streaming four or five ways, making commercial viability harder by a multiple. As for hit records, bands can’t even get a look in on the charts these days.

But The Wombats, The Courteeners, The Kooks…who would have backed those bands for the long and fruitful success they have? They made their way down the checklist and into the second act, even if your mum and dad have never heard of them. 

Good luck to all of them.

The Illusion of Vinyl

Be honest, when was the last time you put on a vinyl record and did nothing else but kick back on the sofa and listen? I mean genuinely nothing else. The experience is illusive. But if we want to value music more we should make it a reality, just like in the 60s and 70s.

70s turntable, by Mick Clarke

Vinyl seems to keep growing and growing. It fascinates me that younger people are getting into vinyl, despite the obvious ecological concerns. But then why should next generations be denied vinyl’s tactile, sensory pleasures just because they are young and therefore have to save the environment?

I place strict(ish) limits on vinyl purchases, for reasons of space, budget and yes, eco-guilt. Even so, my ‘collection’ (part of those limits it to avoid using that word) grows largely because I have an obligation to respect those albums that really stand out to me. And I feel like it’s the least I can do for the artists who lovingly make the recordings. Blood, sweat, tears and…vinyl.

But I do think that our current, renewed love for vinyl is complex. Many of the ideas I have about vinyl (ideas that drive a motivation for buying the format at the current average price of £26 per title compared with virtually free on Spotify) are essentially fantasy

I imagine a utopian scenario whereby I can be at home, with no distractions and no one else around, so the volume can be suitably high. I imagine having a spare 40 mins or perhaps even an hour - enough for a proper listening session. I imagine choosing a suitable title - a recent purchase, a new release or perhaps a classic, and then commencing the ritual: taking the record out of the sleeve, dropping the needle etc. Just put the record on, kick back on the sofa and just listen. The reality is entirely different of course. The number of times I get to enjoy listening in this way are…well almost never. 

The distractions are endless. Enemy no. 1 is of course, you guessed it, The Phone. Although I have only a few apps with notifications on, the all-demanding phone just lies there knowing it will be picked up and pecked at before too long - certainly within the space of 40 minutes. It is the vessel and repository for endless messages related to work, family affairs and friend contact. And a bottomless pit of news, reviews and social media guff. 

Second only to The Phone is…the house itself. Like anyone else’s house (I assume) it provides/requires a constant stream of essential small tasks, from emptying the dishwasher (or worse, putting it on so it can swoosh away while I’m trying to listen to a record) doing the recycling etc. or thinking about what’s in the fridge, just in case something is missing for dinner later.

Then there is the competition for this precious window of down time. Why not take this quiet time to catch up with some quality reading? Take the dog for another walk and enjoy nature?

It’s a guilt trip, sometimes, playing vinyl records, or attempting to. With listening time so scarce, it is inevitable that our vinyl collections far outweigh the time we spend playing them. Is the joy more conspicuous perhaps? Having that stock of records on the shelf as decoration - a show of identity or just the promise of a more relaxed, culturally enriched, less distracted future? Is this why many people - especially younger buyers - have vinyl collections despite not actually owning a turntable?

Then again, there is nothing quite so elegant as vinyl, certainly not from the perspective of music formats. I recently enjoyed Stephan Kunze’s ‘zensounds’ blog about listening more slowly, in which he says:

“Do you realize that some of these artefacts are extremely beautiful? People spend much time and effort on designing sleeves, choosing materials and even hand-crafting limited vinyl, CD or tape runs in special boxes, putting together liner notes and credits. I always loved reading through booklets while listening to music”.

Indeed, one look at the library of vinyl record covers designed by Hipgnosis (the design agency not the music catalogue fund) makes you realise just how much of a cultural powerhouse the format once was.

The whole vinyl ritual seems worth buying into even if it’s really more illusion than reality. Perhaps the answer is more discipline. Put the phone in the other room, or turn it off. Put routine listening sessions into the calendar - just once a week would be a start. The rare times I have achieved true vinyl-to-sofa sessions in recent times have been so immensely enjoyable, I can’t think of anything more beneficial to anyone who calls themselves a music fan. 

Long may the format’s commercial and cultural resurgence continue, but I hope we can do it justice by placing enough priority on our time to really enjoy vinyl as we used to. And if you have a collection but no turntable, then start saving up now and buy one good enough to do the format justice. As Corinne Bailey Rae’s first hit suggested: “Girl (/boy/non-binary person), put your records on. Tell me your favourite song. You go ahead, let your hair down”.

It’s good advice.

60s Crosley, by Mick Clarke

ENHANCING THE ALBUM: CLASSIC ALBUM SUNDAYS

I had the pleasure of attending a recent Classic Album Sundays event (on a Monday) and enjoyed it a lot. Here is a short review in the spirit of my current theme of what it takes to make a classic album. In this case, one made in 1974!

Do we really ever listen to records the way we used to? Despite the ever-rising popularity of vinyl and the resilience of the album format, I doubt there is a corresponding rise in ‘focused listening’ at home - the idea of putting the record on, sitting back on the sofa and just - listening

There are a few ‘experience brands’ out there that make an event out of doing just that but away from home. I’ve written about Pitchblack Playback before, here I’m going to talk about Classic Album Sundays. It was founded by DJ Colleen ‘Cosmo’ Murphy way back in 2010 in a North London pub, with the intention of promoting enjoyment of true listening as the age of digital music began to take hold. According to the website, Classic Album Sundays “tells the stories behind the albums that have shaped our culture.”

It does so incredibly well. I’ve been to a few of these events over the years but just recently I attended a session on one of my all-time favourite albums, Supertramp’s 1974 masterpiece Crime Of The Century. A lush staging at the Elgar Rooms (on an otherwise dormant evening at London’s Royal Albert Hall) was the perfect setting for a jovial, relaxed but informative chat between host Colleen and the album’s producer Ken Scott (a legend in the world of sound design). 

The two had clearly done this routine a few times before. The best thing though, was anticipating hearing a classic album through a pair of incredibly high end KEF speakers. No surround sound or fancy spatial mixes (though sometimes those events are cool as well). Instead, Colleen rocks up to a turntable and simply drops the needle on the vinyl (and again to turn the record over to side two). 

If you do not know the album you are missing out. Crime Of The Century is an epic journey of a record, despite being only eight songs long. It achieves a similar feel to, say, Pink Floyd’s Dark Side Of The Moon and indeed explores the same themes - isolation, detachment, mental health - very much the darker side of human existence from the perspective of youth. 

My favourite insight here was of the unusual sound effects for the album which were recorded live from real locations - a London School and Paddington Station among them (the announcement included station stops where both Roger Hodgson and Rick lived at the time). The track Hide In Your Shell contained a professional musical saw player. When asked what he was proud of about his work on the album, Scott was simple and clear. “Depth. These days with spatial audio and all that, you can easily achieve depth - but back then it was much harder. But I wanted to get the depth even with a stereo recording”. Well, he certainly achieved it, as we witnessed through those awesome loudspeakers.

Classic Album Sundays makes you realise the amount of work that goes into making an album (all the records are de facto, classics) by both accident and design. The little insights fascinate. Scott spent his first two days on the record just trying to get the right drum sound. The band’s gear was “well worn, having been on the road a lot”. As such, that old kit was part of the album’s DNA. 

These events are a way of getting insider stories about the artists too. Supertramp’s joint leaders and songwriters Roger Hodgson and Rick Davies had a famous falling out that led the band to irrevocable break up. But in those earlier days, they blended beautifully. Scott compared the two to Lennon (Davies) and McCartney (Hodgson, “a partnership, they were together but separate at the same time”). They were that good. Most of all it reminds you to listen, both as a fan, an appreciator of the art form, and, as a mindful activity - a sort of antidote to the usual distractions you get at home. 

I came away from the evening having made a renewed vow to make regular appointments to listen to my favourite records all over again, mostly in the comfort and convenience of my own home but perhaps occasionally out in a social setting and special environment. Spotify is doing a classic album series featuring editors talking shop about their favourites, but it would be much better for the brand or other streaming services to lean in more fully and sponsor events like this. Well worth the modest ticket price and an alternative to a live show.

Colleen Murphy interviews Ken Scott

Classic Album Sundays is on the internet too

Post Pitchfork - five ways for music journalism to survive

Since the news of Pitchfork “folding” into GQ magazine in early January, a few people have asked me what I think about it. I’ve read a few of the eulogies and share the sad sentiment of most of them, but I’m generally more optimistic about the role and future of music writers. Sort of. Here, I’m summing up five ways in which music writing can survive (and by that, I mean thrive) and I mention a few of my own favourite music editorial brands.

Photo by Simon Noh on Unsplash

We cannot put the genie back in the bottle when it comes to the commercial viability of music magazines. Pitchfork was really the last music media ‘empire’. It grew from a humble blog into a multi-revenue music media business, eventually succumbing to an acquisition by an unlikely mothership in Conde Naste, at a time when that company desperately needed ‘digital first’ media properties.

No other music media brand has succeeded on any significant scale since. 

The short version of the story is that Pitchfork had its day. Its heyday lasted well over a decade - not a bad run, even compared with legendary music media brands of the golden age of music journalism, like Rolling Stone or NME. Pitchfork’s digital presence made it more than just an editorial brand, however. It became a destination for music lovers, aficionados and obsessives, and eventually outgrew its original “white male hipster” tone of voice to become more inclusive and diverse.

And then got a bit too big for its boots. In some cases it became a concern for artists that had been “built on Pitchfork” (with famous 8.something review scores) but who could also be then subsequently marked down, or snubbed altogether. Mind you, the point of music media coverage is that it cannot keep on writing about every artist, but be a curated source of discerning taste and discovery - and perhaps more importantly - a way of enjoying a deeper connection to music and artists. But those infamous review scores (still a central feature of Pitchfork even now) matter much less in today’s music economy. As reviews waned in relevance, all of Pitchfork’s various income streams probably just withered away gradually. 

So now, can “niche” media thrive? In music’s case, it looks unlikely, some examples of music brands I like: She Shreds, a ‘magazine’ built around the growing community of female guitarists, is a great concept, but seems to have struggled to find a solid format. At one time, it was a physical magazine but is now essentially a blog with a focus more on YouTube videos (“She Shreds TV”) than the written word. Loud & Quiet seems to have sustained a physical format magazine through a subscription model and merch store - wryly with a strapline ‘moderately successful’. Its “Midnight Chats” podcast seems to have become established as a long-term show. 

This first way to succeed then, is to move away from the written word as the central focus, to video or audio (podcast) first. At least that way, there is distribution, by way of the usual giant social media and streaming platforms. 

Goldflake Paint, The Quietus and many more - all had moments of relevance (on a much smaller scale than Pitchfork) but could not find viability beyond being blogs with Patreon style funding and a bit of ad revenue (though The Quietus successfully diversified into artist management). 

Personally I love So Young. It is a UK-based ‘zine’ built around the resurgence of guitar bands. On a modest scale, it has built a community, subscriber base, (another) cool merch brand, and has branched out into a small label and live music booking agency. If it does well with the artists it represents, and those artists continue to value it and pay back those favours, it could grow into something relevant. It is the commercialisation of a cultural scene. Viable, albeit on a smaller scale. An so here is the second way - quickly build your media brand or zine into a ‘real business’ - talent management or a record label, for example. 

So Young Magazine issue 47 cover

Meanwhile, post Pitchfork, what constitutes dream press for an artist? I recently posed this question to Martin Courtney of New Jersey indie ‘stalwarts’ Real Estate and his answer was revealing: “I guess a spread in the New Yorker - something that reached a new and interesting audience for us”.

Well, Sir Lucian Grange is already ahead of the curve on that one. In which case the future of music journalism is perhaps, to be subsumed into broader literary and lifestyle titles. Just like Pitchfork and GQ. And so this is the third way: music writing incorporated within larger media brands, from The New Yorker to Waitrose Weekend magazine (or my favourite, McSweeney’s The Believer music issue). I saw something recently on social media about the imminent relaunch of Q Magazine. Perhaps it should actually be launched as the editorial sub-brand within Amazon Music, Apple Music or even as part of a news media empire (if there are any left). 

Meanwhile, film writing seems to have all the same issues as music, but has a few more innovative solutions. After a decade in existence, the music buff app Letterboxd seems to be gaining traction among young audiences beyond aficionados. So this is a fourth way - to mix up pro journalism with UGC and fan community content i.e. go the way of the app. I even tried something similar to this myself with The Song Sommelier (where you are reading this) - having music super fans write and curate alongside professional journalists. It’s still a thing, potentially. 

Commercial viability and income streams remain a challenge for all four routes. 

But I mentioned a fifth as well I think?

Well, while music journalism suffers chronic illness, you might have noticed that the ‘music business’ is rampant, with major labels making millions of dollars a day. A few years ago Warner Music acquired a media brand (Uproxx). [N.B. just a few days after I wrote this, WMG announced it was effectively jettisoning Uproxx and “owned and operated” media, so I guess this final option is indeed the way to go, as an alternative, read on]. UMG owns the UMusic Media Network, describing it as “a comprehensive media and data offering to uniquely connect brands and partners with exclusive media from world’s largest music company and most iconic and influential artists”.

Even if, like me, you cannot quite figure out what that means, the point is that labels and artists need music press. Artists love to get press - it may be less effective than a playlist add or TikTok viral moment, but it is validation, affirmation, depth. But rather than ‘own’ somewhat compromised media brands, why don’t labels use all their streaming catalogue money to invest in the music media outlets out there? Buy their ads, sponsor some paid content, invest (again UMG recently invested in indie radio network NTS in  a low key but important way). While music press should enjoy editorial independence, look around. How much established news coverage and features in national premium news is “paid content”?  

So music journalism is able to survive in different forms. It feels like it is possible to create new platforms for music discussion, discovery and enjoyment - perhaps just not in the form of branded multi-feature music magazines.


The Art of Longevity podcast Season 9 preview with Real Estate, is out released in early February 2024.

NATIONAL ALBUM DAY 2023: Alice In Chains 1992 stone cold classic ‘Dirt’

There’s nothing like music to take you back. Some 30 years ago (at the start of my professional career) I was what you might call an angry young man. Music has always imbibed me with a kind of fuel and at that particular time it was the music of Alice In Chains, which was fuelling my anger rather nicely. 

Back in 1992 I was on some major IT systems project for an energy company, in the employ of Andersen Consulting, the behemoth now known as Accenture. I was sharing a flat with a studious American called Floyd and a conscientious, ambitious young lady called Heidi, neither of whom could make head nor tail of me or my anger issues. 

To Floyd & Heidi, that project was the place to be, the pinnacle of professional assignments. To me it sucked. So much so, I would start my days with a loud blast of Alice In Chains’ ‘Dirt’ (I’m talking LOUD and before 8 am too). I must have been the flatmate from hell. Belated apologies Floyd & Heidi wherever you are. Although Heidi, I will ever forgive you for showing me a spreadsheet with a list of names on whose jobs were on the chopping block. Like I said, it sucked. 

For those unfamiliar, Dirt is a stone cold classic. It is unforgiving, relentless, driving, bleak, but at the same time as melodic as rock gets. It was my album of the year (I used to keep a top 20 list) and over time has become my de facto “album of the 90s”. 

So for National Album Day 2023 with its 90s theme, it seemed like the appropriate thing to do to pop along to my local record shop, Roan Records Teddington and buy the remastered reissue. Listening session is now highly anticipated. Although these days I am no longer so angry (and not so young either). 

Here are some highlights from Dirt:

  1. Would. The most thrilling, hairs-on-the-back-of-the-neck metal song, ever. I first heard it on the Tommy Vance Friday Rock Show and when I did, I knew it was totally different to anything else I’d ever heard, and I grew up on rock & metal. 

  2. Jerry Cantrell. The band’s songwriter, lead guitarist and co-lead/harmony vocalist. Cantrell's guitar playing often uses the wah-wah and follows off-kilter time signatures but most of all - he uses down-tuned open stringed chords that put him in the club with Tony Iommi and other great rock players. And, he is melodious. He’s a genius. 

  3. Layne Staley’s lead vocals. Layne had what is called in the music trade ‘a signature voice’. One that screamed pain, melancholy, anger and yet soared. His harmonising with guitarist/vocalist Jerry Cantrell made Alice In Chains sound utterly unique. The fact that the band found a way to replace him (after his death in 2002) is a miracle. 

  4. Rooster. Possibly the best rock song ever about Vietnam, Cantrell wrote it for his war veteran Dad. It virtually takes you deep into the hell of the jungle. It actually feels dangerous to listen to. 

  5. Them Bones. When I first bought my copy of Dirt and put it on the CD player, Them Bones frightened me. I wasn’t sure if I was equal to the record if that makes sense. I thought it was going to be too hardcore for me. Yet I grew to love it - all two and a half angry urgent minutes of it. As an opener, it is one hell of a statement. 

  6. Dave Jerden’s production and Brian Carlstrom’s sound engineering. I’m not technical and can’t say my ears are finely tuned, but I think the very best rock records always owe something to the studio teams. In this case, the sludgey, dirgey and heavy chords and riffs don’t completely drown the record, they are equal in the mix with the vocals and rhythm section. It’s actually a very balanced listen that makes it accessible. 

  7. Rain When I Die. Jerry Cantrell writes some monster riffs, and this one is an absolute beast. It’s King Kong and Godzilla. 

  8. Down In A Hole. A superb, bleak-as-anything ballad that shifts the album’s pace - takes things down a notch. Brilliant. 

  9. Angry Chair. A spooky and dark thing that comes from the “scary verse to soaring chorus” song school, it should be on anyone’s half-decent Halloween movie soundtrack playlist. 

  10. The album's cover art. The cover features a young woman half-buried in a cracked desert landscape. It is photographed by Rocky Schenck, who created the image along with the album's art director, Mary Maurer. It’s scary and depicts the album’s contents very well indeed. Even in the CD era, it is a classic ‘metal’ album cover. 

Dirt’s legend has grown steadily over three decades. Michael Christopher of PopMatters wrote "the record wasn't celebratory by any means – but you'll be hard pressed to find a more brutally truthful work laid down – and that's why it will always be one of the greatest records ever made."

I would imagine the making of the record was fraught. Staley was recently out of rehab but back on heroin and drummer Sean Kinney and bassist Mike Starr were also struggling with alcohol addiction. Recording began during the Los Angeles riots that erupted following the acquittal of four LAPD officers who had beaten Rodney King. Yet the band was clearly on a huge creative streak and had matured since their 1990 debut album Facelift. The drug addiction at the heart of the album’s subject core gave the record a concept album feel.

Nobody should ever say drugs and addiction make for great records and the idea of suffering for art’s sake is usually total bunk. However, Dirt remains an exception. A stone cold classic. 

Pushing the album to its limits

I’m writing up my experience listening to Christine & The Queens new album with Pitchblack Playback - which I thoroughly recommend to all music fans

We live in a visual world of short form video, of TikTok and Instagram scrolls - almost permanent nagging distractions and a conveyor belt instant gratification. Much of this applies to our relationship with music. If you follow enough artists, you can feel like you are consuming their work without ever actually listening to their records. 

Yet music albums were designed to be the polar opposite of this. Albums are meant to be an immersive, focused experience. The only distraction should be to get off the sofa and turn the record over. This is the ethos of Pitchblack Playback. The British curation and experience brand encourages music fans to “hear classic (and new) albums & exclusive pre-release premieres on powerful, immersive sound systems, in the dark”. Founded way back in 2006, the brand survived the pandemic to expand into a global presence.

Listening to whole albums from start to finish in almost complete darkness (augmented courtesy of a free eye mask - which can make you feel like you are about to take a long haul flight) might sound challenging when you consider the times we live in, but it is a refreshingly fun experience. 

This most recent event was one of a series by Pitchblack that celebrates the best albums of 2023. The event was held in partnership with L-ACOUSTICS Creations at the brand's Highgate listening room. 

This meant we were about to hear the record in a completely different way, via L ACOUSTIC’s 18.12.1 sound system, comprising 18 highly responsive Syva speakers, 12 ambient speakers in the room’s ceiling and then bottomed out with 24 subs-woofers. However, the combined 50,000 watts of power never sounds too loud or overbearing in this room, which is something to be appreciated. We (around 25 lucky musos) were greeted with a free drink and ushered in, each anticipative listener issued with their own beanbag & headrest.

And so to the record in question: Christine & The Queens’ most recent release PARANOIA, ANGELS, TRUE LOVE. Now this happens to be one of my personal choices of the year and will feature prominently in our Song Sommelier ’Decanted’ for 2023. 

The album is sonically incredible anyhow, so how would it sound rendered in spatial audio in the dark? As one happy listener remarked during the interval (it is a 96 minute long record) the answer is “a real treat”.

There isn’t a minute of this record I don’t love. Across its 20 tracks, it has fine arrangements and comes together as a concept album (in my own fantasy, it’s as if George Michael recorded the soundtrack to Blade Runner 3).

However, remarkably, the record really consists of four sonic elements: bass, voice, beats and synth. Via the medium of L ACOUSTICS systems, each of those elements is given a massive shot of Compound V.

The bass isn’t just deep, it is heart-palping and body-vibrating. However, it is never threatening but always warm and welcome - like a cuddle from a friendly alien life force.

Christine’s voice is sharp and clear, with the spoken word elements on songs such as the extraordinary “Track 10” particularly striking (the same goes for Madonna’s spoken cameos on two tracks, which are very Blade Runner-esque). 

Meanwhile the drumming is incredible. Performed by Darren King on the record, the mix here adds a depth to his work that surprises and delights (and stops you falling asleep which is hard to resist under the circumstances). 

Finally the synths and sonic effects on the album are given added spatial dimension without adding anything gimmicky.

The occasion does transform you. It either has your mind wandering pleasantly or, at its best, simply lost in the music. The Pitchblack Playback rituals (including an introduction and pep talk by Founder Ben Gomori) provide an excuse to be disciplined about actually listening and doing nothing else (it should come with a ‘just you try this at home’ warning).

It’s well worth a modest ticket price. As an alternative to a movie, theatre, gig or night out eating & drinking it stands up very well if you’re a music fan. And it might just be more memorable if you get the right record, so make an evening of it.

On its release, PARANOIA, ANGELS, TRUE LOVE was (bafflingly) received by critics with mixed reviews. Helen Brown of The Independent summarised the album as "requiring serious investment on the listener's part". But Helen forgot to mention the payback.

They should all have gone along to this and eaten their words during the interval.

For many bands, the hiatus can be the key to longevity

Following the highly accomplished 2012 album Heaven, cult American indie band The Walkmen went on a decade long hiatus. But now they have reformed. In a recent interview with the band’s frontman Hamilton Leithauser, Vulture magazine referred to the now infamously long career break by The Walkmen as “a particularly noticeable void”. I would go a lot further than that. I (and a million other fans) grieved the loss of The Walkmen, because in the indie landscape they offered something unique.

The Walkmen were a monogamous band, up until the break. None of the members did any solo projects, but dedicated themselves to the band they had formed together as young friends in their early 20s. As frontman Hamilton Leithauser told me recently on The Art of Longevity:

“We were caught in this marriage we couldn’t get out of”. 

Difficult Marriages don’t have to end in divorce. On this show, the idea of the hiatus as a healer of bands/marriages is not unusual. Tears For Fears were separated for 19 years. Suede for a decade - about the same as The Walkmen. Some bands announced a break-up (James even did the farewell tour) but others just go their separate ways and don’t make a song and dance about it. 

But it turns out the hiatus is a good thing. Those above named bands have come back in style. Critically revered new records, sold-out tours, renewed cultural relevance and most of all, younger audiences.

But the interesting thing is that culturally, these bands never really went away. And so it is with The Walkmen. Their songs and fandom lived on through the extended break - even grew in their absence. This is perhaps the true miracle of music in the streaming era. Hamilton and the others were surprised and delighted to return to playing shows to loyal audiences both old and new, the younger fans among them singing every word of those old songs. 

In the modern music biz, when the talk is of “always-on” creation, 24/7 content and acute FOMO, maybe the most valuable move a band can make is to not succumb to any of that, but to instead have the nerve and the confidence to do what’s necessary - even if that is nothing. Hamilton puts the stresses of modern day bands into perspective:

“It’s exhausting physically and mentally - in the long run. After you’ve done a bunch of records you think “do I really wanna do another rock & roll record, no I don’t think I do”, then it becomes about what you really want to do next”. 

Of course, there are risks to a hiatus, such as fans losing interest, band members growing apart, or facing challenges when trying to regain their momentum after a prolonged break. However, if managed well and used as an opportunity for growth and rejuvenation, a hiatus can be a positive thing for rock bands and their artistic journey.

A good management team will make the most of a band reclaiming and building on their legacy and cultural impact, while making a comeback schedule fun - something joyous for bands and fans alike.

The hiatus has a lot to offer:

Creative Rejuvenation: Musicians and artists, like any creative individuals, may experience burnout or creative fatigue after touring extensively and producing albums consistently. Making a living in the modern music business is relentless and not for the faint-hearted. Taking a break allows them to step back from it all, explore new influences, and find fresh inspiration. This can lead to a revitalized creative output when the comeback is on. For evidence, see Suede.

Individual Pursuits: During a hiatus, band members can choose to explore individual projects or collaborate with other artists. This can help them grow as musicians and contribute to the diversity of their skills, which can ultimately benefit the band when they reunite.

Avoiding Stagnation: Sometimes, bands can fall into a pattern of producing similar-sounding music over time. A hiatus provides an opportunity for members to reflect on their musical direction and come back with a more evolved and unique sound.

Building Anticipation: As the saying goes, "absence makes the heart grow fonder." Going on hiatus can create a sense of longing and anticipation among fans. When the band eventually returns, it can lead to increased interest, higher demand for concerts and albums, and a generally enthusiastic fan base. Streaming has undoubtedly made this process even more of an asset.

Preserving Legacy: Sometimes, bands choose to go on hiatus to preserve their legacy and avoid becoming irrelevant or oversaturated in the market. By stepping back for a while, they can maintain the impact and significance of their past work.

Five bands who benefitted from the hiatus (i.e. on the Art of Longevity future invitations list!):

a-ha: In 1994, the band unofficially entered a hiatus, during which band members focused on solo projects. They came back in 2000 with a fine album Minor Earth, Major Sky but later embarked on a farewell tour. After reforming in 2015 the band has embarked on several new projects and under excellent management, remain a powerful creative-commercial force.

Blink-182: Blink-182 went on hiatus in 2005 and returned in 2009 with a different lineup. They've experienced lineup changes and hiatus periods at different points in their career but their most recent tour has broken records for ticket sales and the band’s streaming count has doubled.

My Chemical Romance: After disbanding in 2013, My Chemical Romance announced their reunion in 2019. It has taken a while but new material is emerging from the band.

Rage Against the Machine: The metal/hip hop legends went on hiatus in 2000 and reunited for a few performances over the years. However, they announced another hiatus after their "L.A. Rising" show in 2011. They've reunited once again for tours and performances since then.

Fall Out Boy: Fall Out Boy announced an indefinite hiatus in 2009. They reunited in 2013 and have been active since then.


This blog was aided by Chat GPT but checked and edited. The Walkmen were on The Art of Longevity episode 49!

For music fans, vinyl is the best way to commit

On a record shopping trip in Madrid, I recently purchased a vinyl copy of My Morning Jacket’s self-titled 9th studio album. It’s a fabulous record, as you might expect. As good as The Waterfall and its sequel The Waterfall II. As good as anything the band have done thus far. 

Why am I telling you this?

Because the album was released in October 2021. And I finally decided to purchase the vinyl in May 2023. My reasoning is thus:

I really love MMJ

I know I like this album - because I already streamed it

But I hadn’t streamed it nearly enough to get to know it

And I hadn’t streamed it all the way through

And, in all likelihood, I never would

In other words, if I didn’t choose to own this album on vinyl I would never get to know if it would become a record I love. 

The problem is well understood - the onslaught of endless music available on streaming takes away this sense of familiar, repeated listening that builds the connection between the listener and a record. Well, it does for me anyway. 

Streaming has its benefits. For everything to be previewable and available, music releases week-in-week-out are the gift that keeps on giving to us music fans. But the more I appreciate the world of music on vinyl, the more I recognise what streaming takes away. The only solution for me is the self-imposed scarcity and curation that comes through committing to own a collection. Even if that collection is a fraction of the music I get to hear, it will be the majority of the music I listen to most. 

I must say, the vinyl version of My Morning Jacket is so wonderfully packaged too. It comes in double-vinyl album form with a gatefold sleeve. It has beautiful artwork designed by Robert Beatty. It has a foldout poster of the cover in there (even if it doesn’t end up coming out of the sleeve, much). The inner sleeve of each disc has the lyrics on one side and all-important in-studio band photography on the other. It’s a cliche I know, but it is one of those albums that you put on and then stare at the cover while listening to it, true 70s style. It’s worth saying also that the listening experience is totally different. Played through a turntable, amp and decent speakers everything sounds much more like the artist probably intended when they made the record. 

So those are the listener/music buyer benefits, but just think too, of the benefits to the artist. An indie record exec recently told me that one of the label's bands made $25,000 revenue in a single ‘Bandcamp Friday’ weekend through vinyl sales alone. The equivalent amount would take over eight million streams, which would take a band like MMJ the best part of one year to achieve. 

Artists love vinyl because it is more economically viable but also because it feels like a format that is ‘becoming of the art’. The whole package makes a music album a worthwhile product - an affordable luxury. 

Now, I know vinyl isn’t affordable to everyone, I get that. However, it delights me that a vinyl collection and a record player are aspirations for younger music fans - millennials and genZs. The music industry might congratulate itself on reviving an old technology, but it has Netflix to thank to some extent. The streaming video service is much more a maker of trends than the music industry could hope to be, and just about every cool teen drama, from Stranger Things to Euphoria, features a scene in which a vinyl setup is the essential accessory of coolness. 

Back to My Morning Jacket. On the album, there is a track called Lucky To Be Alive, in which Jim James sings: 

The technology came and stole my living again
Ain't nobody buying records no more
Oh well, they cut off all the bread that used to keep us fed
So thanks for coming to the show

You know I ain't gonna crawl and I ain't gonna beg
I'm gonna write my own rules for life
And so I head out on the road, you know we gonna make it work
I feel lucky to be alive

Now when Jim wrote this back during the pandemic, it was before the shifting sands in the live music business. Once the lifeblood for many established music artists, touring has been hit by rising costs, falling ticket prices, lacklustre crowds, venue closures and visa problems. As such many bands cannot head out for the road to make decent money any more. 

The good news for Jim is that folks are buying records again. For one, I’m committed and many other music fans I know feel the same way. I don’t want to create a travesty of plastic and cardboard that sits on a shelf conspicuously (some of us are still recovering from the excessive CD era) but by choosing carefully, I’m happy to be playing every record I buy enough to justify the price. And let’s face it, there is plenty of choice out there and streaming a useful try-before-you-buy utility. 

In all sincerity, vinyl records have improved the quality of my life considerably. And we know these are sometimes not easy times to live through. I urge you to double down on your double albums. You won’t regret it. After all, music at its best makes us feel lucky to be alive. 


In Madrid I shopped in Marilians

Buy a record today on Bandcamp

Listen to my conversation about the craft of the album with Ben Folds on The Art of Longevity

When it comes to longevity, the song remains the thing

[This piece was originally written and published by The Ivor’s Academy ]

Was it Stephen Sondheim who said that writing a hit musical provided absolutely no insight whatsoever as to how to write another one? Perhaps the same principle applies to hit songs. Songcraft remains at the heart of success for music artists in every way – critical, commercial, self-actual – the song is the ultimate unit of currency in the music industry. The Art of Longevity podcast is now five short seasons in (34 episodes) and I’m still discovering more ‘secrets to success’ for long careers in music, so many of which revolve around songs. 

Take Tears For Fears. The iconic British pop duo hold the highest accolade in songwriting – an Ivor Novello for Outstanding Song Collection. It was therefore fascinating (and disconcerting) to hear about how Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith were locked in a songwriting camp for over a year, with an elite group of hitmaker writers and producers in (a fruitless) search for hit tunes. Eventually, Roland and Curt abandoned the project altogether. Instead, they started from scratch as a duo – the way they wrote songs 40 years ago for The Hurting – and with great results (listen to the second side of their most recent album The Tipping Point).

As the music industry heads further towards new levels of industrialisation and commodification, it is heartening to know that some things can never really change. Despite the best efforts of AI and computers, and large teams of songwriters, the very best songs are still created by just one or two hearts and minds. It is something the tech community that so engulfs the music industry these days might try to appreciate a bit more. 

Songs may be getting shorter, and some writers and producers might well look to a formula when it comes to navigating the streaming algorithms, but really – the song remains the same. 

Here are five more of my favourite songwriter stories I’ve discovered through my conversations with songwriters on the Art of Longevity. 

The song that takes you further than you imagine

Hang out for a day with UK ‘alternative radio’ (if indeed it still exists) and at some stage you will hear them spin Feeder’s ‘Buck Rogers’. The track reached number five on the UK chart back in January 2001 but remains a radio standard even in its 21st year. Grant Nicholas originally wrote the song to impress Norton in the hope he would be persuaded to work with Feeder. Despite the Sci-Fi character title (adopted purely because Nicholas fancied the tune sounded futuristic) the track is a drunken break-up song, knocked out quickly after a drinking session down the pub (Grant was drowning his sorrows after splitting up with his girlfriend). Buck Rogers contains a big guitar riff and stream-of-consciousness lyrics about being jealous of his rival’s brand new Jaguar (with a CD player) and whatever else came into his drunken head. Including drinking cider from a lemon.

The rest is as they say, history: but a very important part of Feeder’s history – and with a plot twist. Through the medium of song, one man’s momentary misery and frustration has led to millions of joyous moments. And while cars no longer come installed with CD players, people will always want to drink themselves silly and sing along to Buck Rogers (the song may well surpass 50 million streams soon). Not only that, but Grant came up trumps not just by way of a hit single, but by winning over Gil Norton to become the band’s next producer – for what was to be their best-selling album Comfort In Sound. Oh, and the lost girlfriend? – that would be Kana – his wife and mother of his two kids. Sometimes the ability to write a good song can take you a long way. 

The song that just comes to you

We all know the story of how Sir Paul McCartney wrote yesterday. He dreamt it, waking up with it almost fully formed, so the story goes. 

One of my favourite conversations so far is with one of the UK’s most underrated songwriters, Nerina Pallot. Before we spoke, I had done my prep, listening to Nerina’s entire back catalogue at least once. However, I got stuck on one song in particular: ‘The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter’, from Nerina’s 2017 album Stay Lucky. I had assumed the song was a cover version, such is its classic quality (that’s not meant to offend Nerina, whose catalogue I was not too familiar with until then). I’d assumed the song must be an original from the likes of Christy McVie, or Billy Joel, or Carole King. But it was an original of Nerina’s. I asked her about how she came to write such a classic:

“That’s my favourite song I’ve ever written. It fell out of me in an hour, or an afternoon. It’s everything I wanted it to be. We cut it live in four minutes, I felt if I was to fuck with it too much I would kill it. It’s one of those rare moments where it all came together.”

Every songwriter hopes for the song to ‘be sent from above’, the divine intervention that comes in a dream or Eureka moment. Nothing will invite it more than practice though is my guess. The 90% perspiration might just be what lets in the inspiration. 

The song someone else gifts you

Another of my favourite episodes was a conversation with Fin Greenhall, otherwise known as Fink. While Fink is not one to bend to the whims or will of the record industry (“I’ve never tried to write a hit”), there is something savvy in the way the band has navigated a path through. In 2014 the band created its own label ‘imprint’ RECOUP’D Records, with long-term partner Ninja Tune (the iconic electronic label felt like the band’s new material wasn’t quite in its wheelhouse). On that year’s ‘Hard Believer’ album, along came the song ‘Looking Too Closely’. The song is an exercise in economy, grabbing you with the acoustic strum intro and the genius opening couplet “This is a song about somebody else, so don’t worry yourself, worry yourself”. It doesn’t rely on a big chorus or any kind of hook, yet Fin just knew it was a more commercial song, so much so that his first instinct was to throw it out: 

“I wanted to cut it from the album, but my manager said they would walk away if I did.”

Now that is good management! The song was initially given away as a free download, but 100 million streams later this deeply alternative trio has a genuine streaming hit – something that gave the band the freedom to do whatever they wanted from that point on. 

When I asked Fink how he wrote it though, his answer was even more surprising. “It was something my wife said to me, so she wrote it in a way”. 

Between his wife and his manager, Fin was given his own song as a gift, twice over. 

The song that brings you a new lease of life

There are plenty of examples of late-bloomer hits, but that’s not quite what I mean. For the season finale of Season 5, we’ve gone full circle with the show by talking to Brett Anderson, the lead singer and songwriter of iconic British band Suede. It was a quote from Brett about the lifecycle of a commercially successful band that inspired the concept behind the podcast. 

On listening to Suede’s new record (Autofiction) I was struck in particular by two songs, ‘Personality Disorder’ and ‘Shadow Self’. On these songs, Brett goes for a spoken word verse, influenced by the recent trend set by young British bands such as Dry Cleaning, Yard Act and Working Mens Club. Brett wanted to give it a go, never having tried the vocal technique before, and the results are superb. He’s brilliant at it for one thing, but for another – both songs have a liberated, post-punk vitality that takes Suede back to their very best. The band spent four year writing the songs for Autofiction, and for such a fresh sounding record that’s a deceptive but simple fact. But it is nice to hear examples of classic bands being influenced by today’s up & coming artists. Also, there is something about post-pandemic albums, they appear to be better than before.

The song that comes from a bad place (otherwise known as the pandemic inspired song)

Speaking of great post-pandemic records and in a similar vein to Suede’s Autofiction, the Texan band Spoon (just about my favourite band as it happens) went back to basics for their album Lucifer On The Sofa, recording the songs as a full band, sometimes after just a few takes. The title track is particularly inspired. When I asked Brett about its origins he told me:

“It was a song that we were jamming, from a long time ago. We turned on a drum machine and looped it. That’s the chord progression, and then in 2020 during the pandemic, I sat down to do something with it. Lucifer on the sofa is me when I’m at my worst, when I’m depressed and anxious. It’s the character that makes me lose my motivation, when I’m bitter and nasty. Sometimes it takes me a long time to write lyrics but they came to me really fast and I loved that character of Lucifer On The Sofa.”

Songs as catharsis often make the best songs for both the writer and the listener, and this is a great example. It’s also one of the best album closers you will ever hear by the way!

The song to be grateful for, always

A moment does not make a career, but for many of the artists I’ve met their initial stratospheric rise to the top was largely attributable to a single song – usually a hit song. It’s fair to say that those songs have become symbolic in their longer careers, often evolving into a complex ‘relationship’ between the songwriter and their successful ‘child’. 

Some examples are James’ ‘Sit Down’ or Elbow’s ‘One Day Like This’. For The Divine Comedy that song is ‘The National Express’ and for KT Tunstall, ‘Suddenly I See’. For The Waterboys it is ‘The Whole Of The Moon’ and for Turin Brakes, ‘Painkiller’. The list goes on and on. 

One thing I’ve always been curious to know is how these artists feel when they hear these songs played on the radio, especially when they might have recently released new material (and many of these artists have written a batch of other excellent songs of course). Or when they are heckled at every single live show by someone in the audience to play it? The answer though, overwhelmingly, is that they are grateful to those songs. They might have to play new interpretations (when he plays live, Joe Jackson never plays his chart hits as they were recorded) or rest the song for periods (James steadfastly would not play Sit Down live for over a decade). 

But those songs helped to make their careers and as such, need to be loved and cared for long after they have ‘left the family home’ to continue the analogy. Besides, when it comes to longevity in music, fan favourites cannot be dismissed. 

Not every songwriter can be a hit machine like Nile Rodgers (“hits are my natural comfort zone”), but songs can come from many different places and can take on a life of their own. After all, look at the economic value now being created from just a relatively small batch of the world’s best pop songs. Songs inspiring covers, new interpretations (and interpolations!) keep driving the industry on and that will never stop. The songwriter does not get their fair dues from much of this, I know. But then again, without good songs there would be no industry, no artists and no entertainment with such phenomenal, global power to evoke human emotion. Would we get any of this with AI? No.

So songwriters, keep writing!

The art of being dropped. Artists, it could be good news

In February 2002, Danny McNamara, his brother Richard and three friends Steve Firth, Mickey Dale and Mike Heaton stepped out on stage to play a sold out show at London's prestigious Royal Albert Hall. This was a new peak for their band Embrace. The band opened that show with the track ‘Over’, probably because they thought it was. The band had just been unceremoniously dropped by their record label. On Richard’s birthday too. After a phenomenally successful debut album and two further critically acclaimed LPs, Danny McNamara wondered “will we ever be here again”. 

In the longer term, things turned out for the better. Embrace had joined the club of rock & pop artists who have been dropped by their labels only to go on and then make among their best - and commercially most successful - records. It is somewhat ironic when you consider that first and foremost, the record label’s function is to commercialise the music. Something happens to bands of longevity when they are judged in that way. They’re having none of it, basically.

Embrace’s 4th album, 2004’s Out Of Nothing, released on a new label, was a reset that took the band back to number one. It also contained the band’s only two top 10 singles, back in the days when singles were still sold in numbers on CD. It makes you wonder that, without the forced adversity, would the band have pulled a rabbit out of the hat in the way they did?

Bands dropped by their labels often go on to make amazing records, commercially and creatively. This has been the case with a large club of artists, here are a few examples, all discussed during my conversations with those artists on The Art Of Longevity podcast:

  • Laura Veirs, dropped after her 3rd album with Nonesuch records, Saltbreakers, went on to make July Flame, her most successful commercial album

  • The Wombats, dropped after their 3rd album with 14th Floor Records, Glitterbug, went on to make Beautiful People Will Ruin Your Life, a number 3 chart album and huge record on streaming

  • Spoon, dropped after their first album release for a major label, A Series of Sneaks in 1998, the band’s next record Girls Can Tell set them on a course for a glorious discography of 10 indie-rock albums, including three in the Billboard USA top 10

  • Alela Diane, dropped by Rough Trade after her Wild Divine album in 2011, the USA singer-songwriter went on to forge a successful career releasing albums through independent distributors, leading to her most successful album Cusp and new album Looking Glass

In each case, I’m sure there was a story behind the decisions made. A typical situation is that a band’s advocate within the label (usually the same person who signed them) has moved on elsewhere. Sometimes, as in the example with Embrace, the label went bust. Such events are outside of the artist’s control. Mostly of course, the reason will be ‘disappointing sales’ and therein lies the irony in many cases, when the band goes on to have longevous commercial success. 

 It doesn’t have to be that way

While being dropped might be bewildering and depressing for an artist (and perhaps in some cases their labels too) it is important to see it as a new beginning rather than the end. On the other hand, although counterintuitive at first, it follows that labels might think twice about dropping artists and perhaps rarely should. Only in extreme cases where all other remedies are exhausted should a hard-won, hard-worked relationship be forced to an abrupt end. Sticking with an artist that you believed in at the beginning is likely to bear fruit again at some stage - in the above cases the very next record. Most artists experience creative and commercial highs and lows as a natural ebb & flow of their long-term viability. That requires a long-term vision, which is not outside the scope of a music label even in these fast-paced times we’re living in. 

The careers of many other artists demonstrate exactly that, including the following for example:

  • Norah Jones, who has released nine studio albums over two decades with Blue Note Records

  • Death Cab For Cutie, in many ways a classic ‘indie’ band, has spent 18 years and six albums on Atlantic Records

  • Arctic Monkeys, probably the most successful rock English rock band of their time, have been with Domino Records since the beginning - seven studio albums across 16 years

  • Bjork has been with indie label One Little Indian for what will soon be 11 albums over three decades

  • Fink has been associated with Ninja Tune since the band’s first record in 2006

In the case of Fink, when it became clear that the band’s music was somewhat of an outlier compared with that label’s core repertoire, instead of ending the relationship, the two entered into a long-term partnership under the artist’s own imprint, the fabulously named Recoup’d Records. It allowed Fink’s career stability and eventually long-term success. A win-win for the band and Ninja Tune. 

I don’t mean to label bash here by any means, that would be too easy and too simplistic. Take the case of Warner Music Group - a few of the labels within Warner are named above, yet the 18-year relationship between Atlantic Records and Death Cab is exemplary. The record industry is a wreckage site of indie bands that signed to major labels and could not make it work, yet the band is thriving on that label. Atlantic remains one of the few labels that still holds some intrinsic brand value as a company with artistic sympathy, harking back to the golden era of the 70s under Ahmet Ertegun. And it was Warner Music and another American iconic indie band Wilco that illustrated the idiosyncratic machinations of the music business so well in the early 2000s. The band was both dropped (Elektra/Reprise) and then effectively signed again (Nonesuch) by the same label (Warner). Although it has a bizarre angle to it, perhaps this should happen more often - the parent company making more effort to accommodate important artists but in the right home. Better than letting the band go, surely. 

 These examples are all testimony to the fact that labels can be partners and representatives throughout the whole process - not just as long as the hits keep coming. With the age of the ‘superstar’ in decline and the even greater unpredictability of hits, it is even more important that record labels find a way to build long-term partnerships with their artists. The markers of ‘success’ in the industry are changing and with it, artists' goals & dreams, which no longer fixate on fame & fortune. They would rather have stable, creative careers that enable them to make a good living. That might be the better focus for their labels and managers from now on. 


You can listen to in-depth interviews with many of the artists mentioned in this post on The Art of Longevity. Interviews with Embrace and Death Cab For Cutie are published next…

The Longevity of Laura Veirs

In these short summary articles, I make a quick assessment of the careers of those artists that have joined me on The Art of Longevity podcast. Who knows, each of these short articles might add up to the chapters of a book on lasting careers in music. For the time being celebrating each artist’s body of work and their individual brand of success is enough for a blog!

Levitating Laura Veirs, by Mick Clarke

As she releases album number 12 Found Light, it is worth celebrating Laura Veirs’ continued contribution to the music scene across two decades of making her unique brand of indie folk pop. The secret to her success is not being attached to outcomes and focusing on the craft of making very good albums as cohesive works. She is not as self-critical as many of her peers and would rather get stuff made than worry about perfection or how it will be received. Ironically then, her music is critically revered and I’m sure Found Light will again receive 4 or 5 star reviews. 

Early albums and songs

Laura’s proper commercial debut was in 2003 with Troubled by the Fire, which got her noticed enough to be signed to Nonesuch - a major label in the Warner Music Group family. Then came Carbon Glacier, which brought Veirs to the edge of stardom. However, rather than carry on in the same vein, she diversified her sound to make two albums with rock/pop stylings mixed in with the folk she was known for: Year of Meteors (2005), and Saltbreakers, in 2007. All these records were critically revered but commercially speaking didn’t make enough numbers for her label and she was dropped. But here’s the thing...Laura Veirs made her masterpiece right after that. July Flame was again given widespread praise by critics and fans but it also sold better than anything she’d released up to that point. All the way through her first decade (and since), Laura has never had a hit song, with just a couple of albums making the lower reaches of the chart. It hasn’t really mattered. 

Crossing the rubicon to longevity

Once Laura had established a way to release her albums independently and keep on going (on her label Raven Marching Band, distributed through the highly respected Bella Union independent label) she was destined for longevity. Having built enough of a fan base in her native USA and in Europe, her run of albums continues to be very strong and arguably, each album is in many ways better than the last. The Lookout (2018) and My Echo (2020) are cases in point. 

Key collaborators

Tucker Martine was producer on many of her albums including Carbon Glacier, Year of Meteors, Saltbreakers, July Flame, Tumble Bee and Warp & Weft (he was also Laura’s spouse until their divorce in 2020). She worked on the album Carrie & Lowell by Sufjan Stevens, and has collaborated with Jim James. Veirs also took the lead on the 2016 album case/lang/veirs, a superb collaboration with k.d. lang and Neko Case.

Overcoming obstacles

When Veirs was dropped after her fifth album, she was “bummed” (her word) and disorientated. But she went on to make her best record. More recently in 2020 she went through a divorce, meaning she separated not just from her husband and co-parent but her principal musical collaborator, Tucker Martine. She has set out to be more independently in control of the way her music sounds from hereon in. The new album Found Light is a deep expression of overcoming break-up and moving on and may be yet another high watermark for Veirs. 

Defining success

How does Laura measure her own success? She doesn’t stop to think about it. As one project gets done, she’s onto the next. In her own words “I’m not attached to the outcome”. A prolific songwriter and increasingly accomplished musician, Laura is constantly moving forward with all the restless energy of a fast flowing river. Despite being a relatively small streaming artist (230k followers on Spotify) and never troubling the charts, she is often featured in mainstream music press (she even made a recent appearance on the BBC’s lauded arts magazine show Front Row).

Beyond the music

Like many artists of longevity, Laura is a true artist who has expressed her art through poetry, a children’s picture book (Libba: The Magnificent Musical Life of Elizabeth Cotten) children’s music (Tumble Bee), art and also teaching both music and arts & crafts. 

New album Found Light was produced by Veirs with Shahzad Ismaily. Revisit Laura discussing her career, the ups and downs of making commercial music and defining her own success on The Art of Longevity Season 1, Episode 3