I’ve loved music since I was really young, likely because my father liked it. He had a decent album collection that I remember fondly, ranging from The Beatles to Captain and Tennille. He had also played trumpet (and I did too!) and had several albums that highlighted the instrument, including Herb Alpert’s Tijuana Brass. As a kid I was fascinated by the cover of this one, not really understanding the sexual connotations and just being amazed by the idea of her wearing a dress of whipped cream.
When I was 8 or 9, I began to listen to the weekly Top-40 with Casey Kasem. My parents bought me a radio with a cassette recorder, and I spent many an hour trying to record songs without the DJ talking over the beginning and end. I convinced my mom we should subscribe to Columbia House and somehow got her to order ABBA’s Greatest Hits Vol 2 on 8-track.
By the time I was 11, I had found Duran Duran. I was hooked. My walls were plastered with images of them from Tiger Beat, Smash Hits, and Dynamite magazines. My friend Leanna introduced me to The Smiths and a bevy of other obscure bands and my trajectory into a world of new wave and alternative music was set. As was evidenced by my senior photo.
I became obsessed, and by the time I was in college, I wanted nothing more than to be an alternative music promoter. I deejayed for several years and had stints working part-time at Virgin Records (the company not the store) in Beverly Hills and Sony in Seattle. I went to 1-3 shows a week in my early twenties, and when I was working in radio, I interviewed countless bands and artists. A lot of them were jerks. Or we found out later they were jerks.
No, that’s not a black eye. That’s smeary eyeliner after a Posies show in which now disgraced Ken Stringfellow wrote a 23 (for their album Dear 23) on my shoulder. I have a photo of me interviewing them live for the radio using a payphone, but I feel so ill seeing it now that I just can’t.
Sadly, I don’t have a photo of me with one of the best artists I had the chance to meet, David Byrne, but you can see me TAKING the photo in the mirror.
David really isn’t that amused, because my friend Tomás turned into a massive fanboy fawning all over him in the most embarrassing sort of way, which was odd because Thomas had met a zillion celebs up to that point, but DB was his ultimate idol. At one point David’s manager, who noticed how awkward I felt, leaned over and said to me in a low voice, “Well he IS a god, after all.”
When I was in college, I was pretty sure I wanted to pursue a career as a music promoter for a record company, but my stints working part-time for said companies made me realize how little money there was in it and how difficult it was for women to get anywhere in the business (unless I was willing to “work” my way to the top). At the time, there weren’t many women who broke the mold in music. Sure, there were a handful of big acts, but not in proportion to the guys. And being a woman behind the scenes was even rarer. I also saw some of the awfulness of the music biz, like working my ass off wandering all over Melrose in L.A. for a week to promote a Cracker show, going into every shop asking them to put a poster up, and handing out saltine crackers to people on the street with details about the show. Then, going to said show, David Lowrey is super drunk and starts shredding into the people there asking how many of them had actually bought a ticket (vs. being an industry shill who got in for free). To be fair, I was probably one of just a couple of people there who had worked hard for that free access, but it was sad on a few levels. That he was right—over half the attendees probably did get in for free, but also that he felt drunkenly compelled to drag the show down for those excited about the band. It was my first taste of the challenge that artists have (of any stripe) getting their work out into the world but being taken advantage of by money-grubbing companies who control the world’s access to their art.
At any rate, after that summer I decided I probably should pursue a more lucrative type of job than promoting music.
But it didn’t stop my love for music, and thankfully, when I met my husband Joe, he was equally keen on going to shows. And our musical interests mostly overlap (he leans more toward guitar-driven indie pop and I’m more on the moody electronic side of things). I still love live music and fortunately have another friend, Drea, who loves the same music, so we try and see a lot of shows together (and drag Joe along because he could take or leave the crowds).
My fave band these days is Editors. I know, right? How fitting.
Spotify told me last year I was in the top 2% of their listeners, so yeah I love them. I was so thrilled when they came to Boston. But for all the times I had met musicians along the way, I had my nervous fangirl moment when Joe and I were on the T heading to the show, and I realized I was standing next to singer Tom Smith and a band member; I think maybe Justin Lockey. I managed to let Joe know that’s who it was, but man, for all the bravado I normally have I didn’t have any in that moment. I wanted to tell them how much I loved their music and how I’ve written countless hours of my books with their tunes in the background. But I was so worried they would be annoyed with me or disappoint me by being a total jerk in some way (thus killing any love I have for their music) that I just couldn’t say anything. I figured ok when we get off at the same stop for the venue, then I’ll say something. But I think they knew we had recognized them and they remained on and went to the next stop while we got off the subway. It was definitely them, as I confirmed an hour later as they took the stage. I still wish I had said something. But I console myself with the fact that you really shouldn’t meet your heroes (like a certain unnamed Pulitzer novelist who was an ass to me at a conference where we were both speaking) because they might destroy the magic.
If you want to give Editors a listen, here you go.
On the obsessed with music side of things, I decided when I was a kid that I wasn’t going to be one of those old people that only listened to the music that came out when I was in high school. And I’ve kept up with my forward-looking habits. Every Friday when new music lists come out, I scour my release radar, the All New Indie list and this German list, which has pretty good English-speaking new hits, and then I also go to this site, which has EVERY new Spotify release every week (it’s really amazing what you’ll find that Spotify fails to alert you about). I listen to just a few seconds of songs in genres I care about, and I add them to one of two lists.
Here’s the first one. All the new tunes I’m checking out. I keep things on this list for a month or two, then move them to a playlist with all the songs I checked out that year (it's been 11 years of doing this now!). This keeps me up on all sorts of new bands.
The second list is new Italian alt/indie pop tunes I’m listening to. The new releases site is super helpful for keeping this one updated.
And why yes, I do create playlists for the books I’m working on! I know fellow author Alyssa Palombo does this too. Here’s the one I created for IN THE GARDEN OF MONSTERS. If this were a mixtape, the tape would be nearly worn thin enough to break.
This is a VERY moody, dark, sort of ethereal playlist, to warn you.
I do have a bunch of classical playlists and soundtrack lists that are great to write to, and I’m a big fan of lounge music and Exotica (not my playlist but it’s a good one). This Fellini soundtrack playlist is also wonderful to get the creative juices flowing!
Let me leave you with a couple more for the road. My cover tunes playlist and my Ultimate 80s New Wave list (because I DO still love all those bands from when I was in high school!).
What’s Bringing Me Joy This Week
This whole post has been about joy for me! But here are a few non-music things that have caught my fancy.
This semi-idle incremental game about Kittens is addictive. Here’s the wiki in case you need it.
This Love Boat episode with Tom Bosley, Marion Ross, Andy Griffith, and my favorite awkward artist, Andy Warhol.
Thanks for Joining Me
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The Fellini playlist here is fantastic. Recently did a post on my Life Lived Italian newsletter about the Fellini Museum in Rimini -- among a million other fascinating exhibits, the museum has several of the original scores from Fellini's longtime composer Nino Rota! So great to have all of this music pulled together into one playlist.