Spitball Army

I used to think that 1972 was the be-all, end-all year of pop music, and 1967. Now I’m not so sure which one comes out on top. There is a ten-year stretch in there between the mid-’60s and the mid-’70s when some of my favorite records of all genres were released. I become firmer in my resolve about that with each passing year.

[Read more →]

Bob Dylan’s New Morning;
Dexter, Season Two;
rosemary

[Read more →]

The last really cool homage to the iconic album cover photograph from Bob Dylan’s 1963 The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan was in the film Vanilla Sky. Now we have another in the cover art of American Idol finalist Melinda Doolittle’s new CD.

[Read more →]

What an odd year for me and music. By that I don’t mean that it was an odd year for music (which it may have been), or an odd year for me, necessarily (though I might say that was true, as well). It was an odd year for me and music, together. For the first time in about twenty years, I wasn’t around the music “scene” every day, 24/7. All of the new music that I encountered, I had sought out, after reading about it online or in the news, or it was recommended to me by friends and former colleagues…you know, the way that music discovery is supposed to happen.

[Read more →]

In the NYT article, David Browne discusses the disturbing trend toward not printing liner notes in CD booklets and sending purchasers of the hard CD online to find personnel information for the recording.

[Read more →]

No, it’s not what you’re thinking.

[Read more →]

It’s always been a myth that Dylan interviews are rare: they average about one a month for all four and a half decades of his career.

[Read more →]

Every year I look forward to watching the broadcast of this annual event, then do a Homer Simpson DOH! when I hear about it the day after it aired. Not that it should be difficult to catch – the show traditionally airs during the week between Christmas Day and New Year’s Day. But my brain gets wiped clean after the Christmas retail season, and the week after is spent stumbling along, trying to remember my name and where I put the car keys.

[Read more →]

Did I say how rabidly anxious I am to see I’m Not There? I am. Anxious. And rabidly so.

[Read more →]