Another year on Earth

THERE’S A TWITTER ACCOUNT called YearOnEarth that tweets our planet’s 4.54-billion-year history, compressed into the timescale of a single calendar year.

So January 1 is when a big ball of gas and dust starts forming in outer space, nudged on by a supernova. And it’s only the last few seconds of December 31 when people hit the scene and start stomping all over the place.

In between day 1 and day 365, oceans form, continents split, things bubble, wriggle, and bloom. Single-celled organisms debut in the spring. The ice age begins in late June. Dinosaurs start to roam by mid-December.

Then the day after Christmas, a big-ass* asteroid hits the planet. As YearOnEarth tweets, “the impact releases hundreds of billion times more energy than the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.” And that’s it for the dinos.

(Though, they did survive for about half a month in the Twitter timeline, which is a pretty good run, relatively speaking. Also: they found dino feathers! I’ll never get over the fact that the “terrible lizards” of my childhood turned out to be more like terrifying birds.)

Along with snuffing out three-quarters of life on Earth, the extinction-level event also brought the end to the Cretaceous period and the Mesozoic era, leaving only the flying dino-birds and smaller critters behind to begin the Paleogene and the Cenozoic. This part of the planet’s history is written on the sides of cliffs for anyone to see: thin bands of rock marking the Cretaceous–Paleogene boundary, a sedimentary layer laden with iridium, likely left behind by the Earth’s big-ass visitor from outer space.

And you know what else is left behind when a big-ass, dinosaur-annihilating, era-ending space rock smashes into the world?

A big-ass crater.

According to its Wikipedia page, the crater is ninety-three miles wide and twelve miles deep, straddling the northwest coast of the Yucatán Peninsula, half on land, half under the sea, with the town of Chicxulub nearest its center.

It seems like a hard thing to miss. But as big as it is, the Chicxulub crater is also buried under sixty-six million years of stuff, so no one noticed it until the late 70s. Even after it was discovered, it took a long time (on a human timescale, not a geological one) before it was widely recognized as the dent in the universe that did in the dinos. Wikipedia:

The crater was discovered by Antonio Camargo and Glen Penfield, geophysicists who had been looking for petroleum in the Yucatán Peninsula during the late 1970s. Penfield was initially unable to obtain evidence that the geological feature was a crater and gave up his search. Later, through contact with Alan Hildebrand in 1990, Penfield obtained samples that suggested it was an impact feature. Evidence for the impact origin of the crater includes shocked quartz, a gravity anomaly, and tektites in surrounding areas.

Somehow I’m simultaneously amazed that the big-ass crater was identified so late in human history and that we have the ability to discover these things at all. (Also: shocked quartz? Gravity anomaly? Tektites? I don’t know what any of those things are, but I like the sound of all of them.)

Back in 1978, Penfield was just working his day job at the Mexican petroleum company Pemex when he noticed a pattern of geological anomalies and began to map them. In an article he wrote for the American Association of Petroleum Geologists just last December, he describes the moment when combining his hand-drawn map with old records revealed a complete outline of the crater:

Gravity mapping of the Yucatan began in the 1940s, which led to the drilling of the first exploration wells in the early 1950s. The old data showed a large concentric set of onshore gravity anomalies. When I laid it next to my No. 2 pencil mapping of the offshore magnetic anomalies, the fit was perfect: a shallow, 180-kilometer diameter gravity-magnetic bullseye on the almost non-magnetic, uniform carbonate background of the Yucatan platform!

(The exclamation point is what really sells it.)

At the time, Penfield was only twenty-six years old. But he’d seen enough geological surveys by then, so he was sure of what he was looking at:

I knew this was not a volcanic edifice, but an impact like those I had observed on the moon as a hobby since childhood. We recognized the crater as the likely Cretaceous–Paleogene boundary event.

But for the next twelve years, few others would. Penfield and Camargo presented a report at a geophysicists conference in 1981. Penfield says the Houston Chronicle put their session on the front of the Sunday paper. Still, no one took notice.

In the Wikipedia article, the conference is described as “under-attended” — possibly because all the crater and Cretaceous-Paleogene experts were at a different conference about planetary impacts, which was going on at the same time. The implication is that Penfield and Camargo just didn’t have the right audience: scientific breakthrough undermined by poor event scheduling.

Regardless, Glen Penfield’s crater theory was ridiculed by co-workers (they called it “Glen’s Sky Rock”), rejected by NASA, and dismissed by “a world-famous seismologist”. I wonder if Penfield spent the decade annoying family, friends, loose acquaintances, taxi drivers, and strangers in bars with his unheralded discovery: “You know, I think I found the spot where that asteroid that killed all the dinosaurs landed.”

Eventually, he gave up trying. Without more evidence (some of it was locked up by Penmex lawyers), nobody had reason to believe him. Or, the ones who did have a reason didn’t know Penfield existed, let alone his big-ass crater. It was like the nerdiest of romcoms — missed scientific connections. Wikipedia again:

At the same time, in 1980, geologist Walter Alvarez and his father, Nobel Prize-winning scientist Luis Walter Alvarez, put forth their hypothesis that a large extraterrestrial body had struck Earth at the time of the Cretaceous–Paleogene boundary. In 1981, unaware of Penfield’s discovery, University of Arizona graduate student Alan R. Hildebrand and faculty adviser William V. Boynton published a draft Earth-impact theory and sought a candidate crater.

Hildebrand was searching for the crater Penfield had already found. Nine years later, they finally found each other, via a matchmaker:

In 1990, Houston Chronicle reporter Carlos Byars told Hildebrand of Penfield’s earlier discovery of a possible impact crater. Hildebrand contacted Penfield in April 1990 and the pair soon secured two drill samples from the Pemex wells, stored in New Orleans. Hildebrand’s team tested the samples, which clearly showed shock-metamorphic materials.

Nothing says you’re meant for each other like your mutual appreciation for samples of shock-metamorphic materials.

No longer discounted as a seismic anomaly, the big-ass, ancient hole in the ground made by Glen’s Sky Rock officially became the Chicxulub crater. A seemingly innocuous name, it was born partly out of spite-fueled mischief, according to Penfield:

My Mayan wife, Erendira, and I, along with Alan, decided to name the crater after the town of Chicxulub located near its center, partly to give the academics and NASA naysayers a challenging time pronouncing it after a decade of their dismissals, since “Yucatan crater” was too easily pronounced.

Saucy scientists.

Since then, more evidence has been found to support the Chicxulub crater theories, even as recently as this last year:

In 2016, a scientific drilling project drilled deep into the peak ring of the impact crater, hundreds of meters below the current sea floor, to obtain rock core samples from the impact itself. The discoveries were widely seen as confirming current theories related to both the crater impact and its effects. A 2020 study concluded that the Chicxulub crater was formed by an inclined (45–60° to horizontal) impact from the northeast.

So that’s that: the impact of a big-ass space rock sixty-six million years ago still rippling into the present day. Twelve years from a young scientist’s initial discovery to his vindication, a period which probably felt more like an eternity. And 4.54 billion years compressed into one, 365-day trip around the sun.

In a year where time felt totally weird — simultaneously amorphous and acutely painful, both unlimited and interminable — this Twitter–Wikipedia rabbit hole, where timescales expand and contract with alarming elasticity, was another reminder that our time here is kind of a lark.

Time is a jumble. It’s both an essential concept for us all to agree on just so we can function in daily life — and also sorta just made-up. (Necessary and meaningless, kinda like money.) It bends and shrinks, slows down and speeds up, goes straight or in circles. The month of March can stretch on to feel like a year. And the end of an era can fit inside a tweet.

Zoomed out, our time on this little blue marble is less than a breath. As the YearOnEarth Twitter account ultimately concludes: humans are here for less than a blip, a few seconds (not even two minutes) before midnight — and yet (spoiler alert!) we’re as destructive as a big-ass asteroid that we can’t stop from crashing into a small town in the Gulf of Mexico.

Well, at least our time here isn’t boring, I guess. Happy new year.

*The asteroid is estimated to have been between seven to fifty miles in diameter. Which is a pretty wide spread, don’t you think, scientists? But even on the low end, a seven-mile-wide rock falling from the sky still counts as “big-ass” in my book.

An unofficial COVID-19 FAQ

CAN I GET COVID-19 if I’m standing next to someone who has it and they cough in my mouth?


Can I get COVID-19 if I’m standing three feet away from someone who has it and they only cough a little?


Can I get COVID-19 if I’m standing six feet away from someone who has it and there’s no coughing?

Yes. But less likely.

Is this like when I would play “I’m not touching you, I’m not touching you” while putting my finger half an inch away from my brother’s eyeball? So, if I’m standing five feet, eleven inches away from someone, I can get COVID-19, but if I’m standing six feet away, I’m safe?


Do these social-distancing rules still apply if I’m just standing in the checkout line at Whole Foods?


How about if I’m at the beach?


OK, maybe not the beach. At the park?


Can I get COVID-19 from a dog?


Can I get COVID-19 from food?


Should I wash my lettuce with soap?


How about Lysol?




Can I get COVID-19 from groceries, takeout food, or the mail?

Unlikely, as long as you take some basic precautions.

Can I get COVID-19 even if I wash my hands with really hot water for ten seconds?


But does any of this really make a difference?


Really, though? Even if I’m just one person and I feel fine?


Is it really that big a deal if you’re relatively healthy?


Isn’t it just like getting the flu?


At least we have an awesome healthcare system to protect us, right?


Is this healthcare crisis bad for everyone?


Could the cure be worse than the disease?

No. (Well, actually, maybe.)

Well, thank god for capitalism, at least.


Well, the socialists never did anything to protect us from total financial collapse, amirite?


‘Merica is still the No. 1 country in the world, though, amirite?


Should I listen to what the president says about the coronavirus?


Should I listen to what Fox News says about the coronavirus?


Was there anything we could’ve done to stop this from getting so bad?


But aside from that, anything? Anything at all?


But, seriously, no one could have predicted this, right?


Is the president getting the very best scientific and medical advice he can find?


Did we ever find out what happened with Hillary’s emails?


Happy non-Opening Day

SPRING DIDN’T COME THIS YEAR, so I loaded up my copy of No. 1 on this list to ease the ache of baseball’s absence. Random thoughts while rewatching Game 4 of the 2004 ALCS:

  • Fox had a baseball version of Microsoft Clippy splainin’ baseball stuff… because Joe Buck and Tim McCarver could not?
  • Forgot how Terry Francona would rock back and forth on the bench with nervous energy, looking like I felt inside.
  • All the Yankees hitters are goddamn scary.
  • Also forgot how Tito stuck with Foghorn Bellhorn and Caveman Damon through this whole thing. Nothing really doin’ for either of them in this game, but Tito’s faith would be rewarded later in the series. (Also, reminds me of how Tito stuck with Pedroia when he was first called up and stunk.)
  • Millar-The Steal-Mueller is still just an incredible sequence of events.
  • Now I kinda wanna rewatch the July 24th A-Rod-Varitek face-mask game — the one where Mueller showed us Rivera was human, after all.
  • Pokey Reese!
  • Manny’s helmet and Nixon’s cap — just filthy.
  • At various points, but mostly in the later innings, a lot of the fans look like how I feel now — tooting from the epicenter of a worldwide pandemic.
  • Why did we think it was possible to win this game?
  • Big Papi.
  • Without commercials, this game is four hours long. With commercials, over five hours. How did we ever survive this series?
  • Sixteen years ago — holy schnikes!

Re: 2020 Q2 OKRs

Yes? I have something.
I’ve been thinking.
Instead of approving these OKRs
about increasing user engagement
ten thousand percent
and repositioning our brand
for “Create a Sense of Wonder 3.0” —
how about we move to a cabin
beyond the deep forest
across a wide river
surrounded by a desert
on top of a mountain
protected by a moat
and make friends with a bear.
Or a badger.
And just live like that for a while,
see what’s it like?
We could always come back here if we wanted,
take the elevator
return to this conference room
(or one just as big)
reschedule this call
for whatever time is good for you.
Yes? Yes, that’s a good point.
If we left this whiteboard behind,
we’d have to learn how to
build a fire
find water
harness the sun for food and power
fix a boiler.
And, of course, we’d each have to get
our own cabins
on our own mountains
surrounded by a desert
for it to really work the way I imagined it.
But anyway.
Just an idea.
Let’s think about it.
I think there might be something there.

(Originally published at Revised December 2022.)

2018: Year of the Dog

IT’S BEEN THREE YEARS since Bowie left the world and the world began to fall apart (a notion that began as a quip on Twitter, but which becomes less funny, and more true, as the years go by and the evidence only grows).

But it’s not the first time he disappeared. For a big chunk of me being a grownup — basically, from 2000 on — it was like he didn’t exist. One forgettable album followed another until he faded away altogether, almost without me noticing.

And then he was suddenly back again. As one reviewer personified it, this was “Prospero-Lear Bowie, the old man rising to prove he still had command of his magicks, and to roar against the onrushing void”. I thought it was the beginning of something when it turned out to be the end.

But unlike before, now that he really, truly is gone, he’s never too far from my mind.

So, even though this is the first one of these year-end mixtapes not to include any of his music (not even the odd cover version), he still hangs over almost everything here.

But anyway, first up, some pre-millennium, NYC samurai/hitman jams…


RZA, “Opening Theme (Raise Your Sword)” (1999)

It was the Year of the Dog, dawg. So, I’m sprinkling some Ghost Dog vibes throughout. It’s been almost 20 years since I first watched it in the theatre, but happy to report the movie still holds up.


Marike van Dijk, “St. Martin” (2018)

My favorite album of the year by far was The Stereography Project, which is based on the music of two indie singer/songwriters, rearranged and reinterpreted for jazz orchestra by van Dijk. The album’s first half features the songs and voice of Jeff Taylor. The second half, Katell Keineg. This is a Keineg tune.


Dumpster Hunter, “It Swell” (2013)

This Jeff Taylor song is also on the van Dijk album and is one of my favorite tracks from it. But I’m including the original version here, so that we get to hear Blackstar drummer Mark Guiliana do his simple, perfect, ridiculously jaunty drum part. (Hot take: the hand claps might be the snazziest hand claps in any song ever. I’m sure I’m not thinking of something, but still, come at me, bro.)


Rachel Eckroth, “Call My Name” (2018)

Eckroth’s album was produced by Blackstar bassist Tim Lefebvre (her husband) and also includes a cover of Bowie’s “Love Is Lost”. But I like the vibe of this track best.


Donny McCaslin, “Eye of the Beholder” (2018)

Beyond Now, McCaslin’s first solo album after Blackstar, had two Bowie covers. His latest, Blow, has none. But Bowie’s spirit feels even more present on it — not because it sounds like Bowie, but because it sounds unlike anything McCaslin has done up to this point:

As [McCaslin] and his band toured to promote material, lessons from Blackstar only became clearer to everyone involved with those recording sessions.

“The influence is more of a ‘do what you want’ vibe that David imparted on us,” said Lefebvre. “Just be brave and don’t worry about what people think. Just do what you feel.”

Though, the Bowie connection is a little more immediate on this particular track because of the presence of Gail Ann Dorsey, whose performance of “Lazaruswith McCaslin was one of the highlights of the many Bowie tributes over the years.


Aretha Franklin, “All the King’s Horses” (1972)

2018’s losses: Stephen Hawking, Steven Bochco, Isao Takahata, Anne V. Coates, Margot Kidder, Anthony Bourdain, Koko, Steve Ditko, Neil Simon, Burt Reynolds, Gary Kurtz, Sondra Locke, Stan Lee, William Goldman, Nicolas Roeg, Bernardo Bertolucci, Ricky Jay, Penny Marshall — and Aretha.


Geinoh Yamashirogumi, “Doll’s Polyphony” (1988)

Watching Akira again on its 20th anniversary, the music stood out for me as much as the animation. And this moment in the film remains wonderfully weird because of both.


Iggy Pop, “I’m Going Away Smiling” (2012)

A little random — Iggy crooning latter-day Yoko Ono. Here he is in the Telegraph, talking about the record company’s reaction to his album Après, a collection of cover songs, many sung in French:

“They would have preferred that I do a rock album with popular punks, sort of like ‘Hi Dad!’ I was not going to do that!” the 65-year-old American quipped at a press conference for the record launch in Paris last night.


Though he went it alone in creating the record, Iggy Pop was contractually obliged to offer it to his longtime label Virgin EMI.

“They didn’t want it. They didn’t think they would make any money, they didn’t think my fans would like it — very sensible attitudes for a sensible sort of person — but that’s a different sort of person than I am.”

It’s also the second time this year that I gleaned an overlooked gem from the interstitial music of a favorite baseball podcast. (The first was T. Rex’s Dandy in the Underworld.)


Phil Manzanera, “Diamond Head” (1975)

As usual, Brian Eno is everywhere, on everything. But apparently, so was Phil Manzanera. In the mid-70s, he played guitar on some of my favorite Eno and John Cale albums, which are lumped together here with Manzanera’s own Diamond Head, also featuring Eno:

As Roxy Music went from peak to peak, Cale joined the band’s own disruptive force and their guitarist for a series of albums that they treated as interlocking hotel suites: Phil Manzanera’s Diamond Head, Eno’s Here Come the Warm Jets and Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy), and [Cale’s Fear].


RZA, “Flying Birds” (1999)


Now Vs Now, “Cloud Fishing” (2018)

Led by Blackstar keyboardist Jason Lindner, this album, the first without Guiliana on drums, sparkles.


Mark Guiliana, “Thank You” (2018)

Except for a few thumps, Guiliana doesn’t really appear on this, either, even though he wrote it. Instead, this single, which was released on what would have been Guiliana’s mom’s 76th birthday, is performed by Brad Mehldau.


Maria Schneider Orchestra, “Concert in the Garden” (2004)

I remember being a little befuddled by Schneider and Bowie’s “Sue (Or in a Season of Crime)” when it first came out. The lack of hooks or refrains wasn’t what I was used to from rock or big band jazz. I didn’t realize that the intrigue of her pieces is that they constantly build and evolve. Nothing’s ever repeated, by design.

(This also includes Ben Monder on guitar, so all the Blackstar folks are represented in this year’s mix.)


RZA, “Samurai Theme” (1999)

Peace out, dawg.

Cover art:

Laurie Anderson, “Lolabelle in the Bardo” (2011)

2017: Year of the Rooster

SO, THE WORLD DIDN’T END — though, not for lack of trying.

But before jumping into next year and resuming the daily, emotional Peloton of outrage, despair, escape, and exhaustion — here’s a 50-minute respite, eleven songs that I discovered, rediscovered, or put on repeat in 2017.

More like a quiet interlude than a “best of” list, this year’s mix is tidier than last year’s, with fewer, shorter tracks. And even though it wanders from 19th-century French poetry to shoegazing black metal to oddball Hollywood musical, it’s also more cohesive. (Well, to me, at least.) Most of the picks are collaborations and/or covers. Bowie still bookends (and overshadows). Matt Johnson makes a comeback. Eno and Cale are always hanging around. And while the love songs seem somewhat anachronistic today (more desperate than romantic), the death songs feel as relevant and immediate as ever.

So, here I count my end-of-year blessings, one through 10 — plus a bonus track — an upbeat coda to 2017, in which we can drink a lot of wine and pretend everything’s fine, despite all the news we’re carrying.


David Bowie & Nine Inch Nails, “I Can’t Give Everything Away (Farewell Mix)” (2016)
Anonymously released with DB’s vocals last year on SoundCloud. Performed live by NIN over the summer. Blackstar bandmates Tim Lefebvre and Jason Lindner both give Reznor’s tribute a thumbs up.


The The, “Everybody Wants to Go to Heaven (But Nobody Wants to Die)” (2015)
After a decade hardly making any music at all, Matt Johnson has mostly been composing soundtracks since 2010. This was written for the 2014 movie Hyena, directed by his brother, Gerard Johnson.


Hector Zazou & John Cale, “First Evening” (1992)
John Cale turned 75 this year and remained as difficult to pin down as ever. This particular oddity, part of an ambient concept album based on the poetry of Arthur Rimbaud, is 25 years old and still has it going on.


Deafheaven, “Irresistible” (2013)
No. 94 on Rolling Stone’s list of “The 100 Greatest Metal Albums of All Time.” When the list came out over the summer, I plucked this album from the rest because of the awesome cover art, like it was 1997 and I was browsing the bins at Tower Records.


The The, “We Can’t Stop What’s Coming” (2017)
The first proper The The song in over a decade. Officially released at this year’s vinyl shitshow (aka Record Store Day). Features Johnny Marr, James Eller, and Zeke Manyika. Written in memory of Matt Johnson’s brother, the great Andy Dog.


Harry Nilsson & Shelley Duvall, “He Needs Me (Demo)” (1979)
I missed a chance to rewatch/reappraise Robert Altman’s Popeye when it played at the Metrograph earlier this year. As a kid, I remember being weirded out by its adult tone. As an adult, I think I might adore Shelley Duvall more than ever.


Michel Legrand & Tony Bennett, “Watch What Happens” (1964)
I had no love for January’s multi-Oscar-winner, La La Land. But The Next Picture Show paired it up with Jacques Demy’s The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, so that led me to finally watch that, and it is wonderful. This is Tony Bennett’s rendition of one of the songs, with English lyrics by Norman Gimbel. Here’s a crappy YouTube version of the original, which has totally different lyrics/meaning in the movie.


Brian Eno & John Cale, “Spinning Away” (1990)
In October, Chris O’Leary wrote an in-depth review of Wrong Way Up, one of my all-time favorite albums. Featuring some of Eno’s best singing, it’s unexpectedly upbeat (especially for Cale) and largely overlooked — possibly because it also has one of the all-time ugliest album covers.


Tom Rogerson with Brian Eno, “Motion in Field” (2017)
A more recent Eno collaboration. Sparkles.


Mark Guiliana Jazz Quartet, “Where Are We Now?” (2017)
I gained a new appreciation for this song while watching Michael C. Hall perform it in Lazarus. And I think Guiliana’s quartet does a great job capturing the essence of it, as well — letting the song fall away to almost nothing in the middle before building up to the monumental end.


Bruce Dickinson, “All the Young Dudes” (1990)
Bruce and Janick introduced me to this song even before Bowie or the Hoople did. I think this version still rocks. And the dorky music video makes me irrationally happy.


Great stuff that didn’t quite fit the mix, but all are definitely worth checking out.

John Cale, “The Queen and Me” (1991)
O’Leary’s review of Wrong Way Up was a warren of rabbit holes for that time period. Also overlooked back then, likely overshadowed by Cale’s more famous Leonard Cohen cover, is this equally transformative take on Cohen’s “Queen Victoria”.

Brian Eno, “You Don’t Miss Your Water” (1988)
Likewise, Eno’s cover of this William Bell song was probably overshadowed by peak Michelle Pfeiffer.

De Beren Gieren, “Weight of an Image” (2017)
Caught this kooky jazz tune during the Bimhuis Radio broadcast of a Mark Guiliana show. The DJ said that the Flemish band name, translated into English, “must be something like ‘the bears are laughing out loud.’” Then she added, “Nobody knows why this trio has this name, and they won’t tell us.” Fair enough.

Mark Guiliana Quartet, “inter-are” (2017)
I worry a little that McCaslin/Linder/Lefebvre/Guiliana (and Monder) will forever be branded as Bowie’s last band, overwhelming their identities as individual artists. So maybe I shouldn’t have picked Guiliana’s Bowie cover for the mix, especially when Jersey was my all-around favorite album of 2017. Anyway, here’s the album opener — I particularly love the Reich-like handclaps at the end of it. (Hello again, Steve Reich?)

Town Portal, “Yes Golem” (2015)
Another solid recommendation from metal guru MathRawk, this trio of proggy Danes saved me from a bad music day at the office, where they like to pipe in “Hotel California” overhead on repeat, the open plan version of the world’s most uncool Gap.

Garden of the Ark, “Undone” (2017)
Speaking of MathRawk, his band just released a kick-ass four-track demo (“Heavy seventies meets noisy nineties”). The phrase “two peas in a pod” has never sounded so anguished.

PJ Harvey, 1995 TV Performances (1995)
Or, actually, forget everything I posted above. To take your mind off present-day troubles, just transport yourself back to 1995, and watch the coolest person on the planet do her thing for an hour.

Cover art:

James Jean, “Monkey With Two Roosters” (2016)

Tommy burgers of the world

LET’S TAKE A TOUR of the Tommy burgers of the world.

Tommy’s Double Cheeseburger (without pickles) is the Tommy burger of everything.

Los Tacos No. 1’s adobada tacos (with everything, on flour tortillas) are the Tommy burgers of tacos.

Xi’an Famous Foods’ N1 Spicy Cumin Lamb Noodles (when they’re not served too watery) are the Tommy burgers of noodles.

And Tommy’s Chili Cheese Fries are the Tommy burgers of chili cheese fries.

These are the known Tommy burgers of the world.

(But what is the Tommy burger for what?)

2016: Year of the Monkey

AM I TOO LATE to take one last look back before it all goes completely to shit?

Whether this is the year’s end or the world’s, here are 16 from 2016 — a mixtape of songs that I discovered or listened to a lot this year, not necessarily stuff that was released in 2016. Every pick also has a B-side, so it’s actually 32 songs altogether, a double disc thing. And a few are really long (six break the 9-minute mark, one is almost 20 minutes), so it’s about three hours of music in total. There’s a lot of Bowie running throughout.

I have no idea if this is digestible to anyone else. Anyway, it’s been a year.


Johnny Flynn, “Detectorists” (2014)
Theme song to a British TV series that only made it over here this year, via Netflix. There are only 13 episodes, but I’m on my fourth time through. Watching it has been one of the few things that can calm my anxieties after November 8, as I swaddle myself every night in its low-key (but truly brilliant) humor and warmth.

Paul Simon, “Horace and Pete” (2016)
Another theme song to a favorite episodic series. But unlike the Detectorists, which I could watch over and over again (“Shut the fuck up, Paul!”), Horace and Pete is a total bummer and not recommended for bingeing or solace.


Ann Peebles, “Trouble, Heartaches & Sadness” (1972)
“Have you heard Ann Peebles? Yeah, well Lennon’s right, ain’t he, best record in years.” — Bowie in 1974, talking about a different Peebles’ record, the follow-up to the one this is on. Man, I love this song, though. (Also, the three-note horn phrase reminds me of the saxophone in “Lazarus”.)

Robert Wyatt, “Shipbuilding” (1982)
“A well-thought-through and relentlessly affecting song co-written by Elvis Costello, and Wyatt’s interpretation is the definitive. Heartbreaking — reduces strong men to blubbering girlies.” — Bowie in 2003 on his favorite records (which he probably played on this little Italian number). Though, I still think of the Suede version of this song first.


David Bowie, “Win” (1975/2016)
For whatever reason, Young Americans became my go-to Bowie album this year. The parts that never clicked for me before finally clicked, and I love it as much as any of his other great ones.

David Bowie, “Right” (1975/1997)
Something from the Leon suites deserves to be on here. After hearing stories about it (or something like it) ever since Outside first came out in 1995, it was a mind-blowing surprise to discover this year that it actually exists. But even I have limits on what’s appropriate for a mixtape. So instead of an excerpt from a leaked demo of an avant-garde, improvisational concept album, here’s another Young Americans track that I gained a new level of appreciation for.


John Cale, “Dying on the Vine” (1992/2016)
The 2016 remastered version of one of my favorite songs, from one of my favorite albums.

John Cale, “Hey Ray” (2011)
While filling in the gaps in my Cale collection this year, I came across an EP with some hidden gems on it. Pitchfork liked the EP, but hated this song (“cringe-inducing silliness”). I disagree!


Neu!, “Hallogallo“ (1972)
Of the “Germans who influenced Low” crowd, I like Kraftwerk and Can well enough, but Neu! is motorik-fic. Amazed it took me till now to get around to them.

Can, “Vitamin C” (1972)
This song jumped out for me in Inherent Vice, another thing I watched over and over again in 2016.


Chris Lightcap’s Bigmouth, “White Horse” (2015)
I think this came from a list of 2015’s best jazz albums. Its goodness did not expire in 2016.

Mark Guiliana Jazz Quartet, “The Importance of Brothers” (2015)
The amazing drummer from Bowie’s Blackstar, playing in a more traditional jazz combo.


Now vs Now, “Ancient Alien“ (2013)
Trio led by Blackstar keyboardist Jason Lindner, also includes Guiliana. Following the Blackstar band all over NYC, in their various configurations, was definitely a highlight of my year.

Maria Schneider Orchestra, “El Viento” (1996)
Probably shares obvious connections to Gil Evans and Sketches of Spain (I’m still not totally familiar with that one, even though I’ve owned it for a while). It’s the brass chorus suddenly appearing under the trumpet solo (starting at the 7:15 mark) that really does it for me.


Kate Bush, “Pull Out the Pin” (1982)
Over-the-top and full of crazy singing and shrieking, like the rest of The Dreaming, her self-professed “She’s gone mad” album. I was always apprehensive of the album, but then I listened to it, and now I love it.

Kate Bush, “Leave It Open” (1982)
Picking another track from The Dreaming, it was either gonna be this one or the one where she hee-haws like a donkey.


Roy Harper, “One of Those Days in England” (1977)
I still haven’t made it all the way through this massive, 324-track mixtape of songs from 1977 (or this slightly less massive, 170-track mixtape of songs from 1950), but Roy Harper seemed like a real find from the former. Now, of course, I see him everywhere. Johnny Marr called Harper’s Stormcock album Hunky Dory’s “big, badder brother”. It’s a Harper tune that Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush lip sync over tea in this wonderfully wacky BBC Christmas special. And Bowie’s Astronettes covered Harper’s “Highway Blues” in 1974. Anyway, catchy song.

Roy Harper, “One of Those Days in England (Parts 2–10)” (1977)
Part 1 is nifty, but Parts 2–10 are where the real action’s at. I didn’t even know angry prog-folk rock was a thing, and here’s a solid 19 minutes of it. The first minute starts off imagining the two weirdest government-sanctioned jobs ever, and then it goes on (and on) from there.


Shearwater, “Fantastic Voyage” (2016)
John Cale’s “Sorrow” was another cool Bowie tribute from this year. And something from Shearwater’s Rook almost made it on. But instead, here’s the opener to their Lodger cover album, and, as a friend noted, a strong contender for theme song of the Trump era.

Girl in a Coma, “As the World Falls Down” (2010)
Another Bowie cover (via Chris O’Leary’s article on Bowie covers), this one recorded during Bowie’s fallow period.


Thin Lizzy, “Sweet Marie” (1976)
Downloaded this on election night, and ended up playing it over and over again. Just a solid rock ballad that’s got nothing to do with nothing. I think the simplicity — and Phil Lynott’s sweet-ass, soothing tones — helped me keep my mind off things. Try listening to this one on repeat half a dozen times and see if you don’t feel better.

Thin Lizzy, “Massacre” (1976)
Besides their Tony Visconti connection with Bowie, Thin Lizzy also has an Iron Maiden link — a strong influence on Steve and the band, with their harmonized twin guitars, rollicking bass, etc. Maiden released a cover of this song as the B-side to “Can I Play With Madness”.


Iron Maiden, “Death or Glory” (2015)
Overall, I’d rate The Book of Souls Maiden’s least interesting “post-reunion” album. And the “climb like a monkey” pantomime at the concerts is a little embarrassing. But this is still a solid Smith/Dickinson tune.

Iron Maiden, “The Red and the Black” (2015)
On the flip side, the live show in support of the album was one of Maiden’s best, and the guitar solos during this song were a highlight of the set.


Megadeth, “Dystopia” (2016)
I’d say this is their best album since Youthanasia. Plus, I finally saw them live this year, and it rocked. And I read at least one interview where Mustaine didn’t sound like a complete jackass. So, maybe things are finally looking up again for Dave and co.

Mötörhead, “Victory or Die” (2015)
I feel like Lemmy dying at the end of 2015 was just the warm-up act to all the terrible things in 2016. Here’s the opener to his final album, recorded 10 months before his death. He was a little ragged, but still giving it his all.


Leonard Cohen, “You Want It Darker” (2016)
More death and darkness, and another swan song.

Brian Eno, “Fickle Sun: (iii) I’m Set Free” (2016)
But Eno’s still kicking — if kicking means making obscure, multi-part, semi-ambient conceptual pieces that incorporate Velvet Underground covers.


Iggy Pop, “American Valhalla” (2016)
Iggy’s still kicking, too. Though, this wouldn’t make a bad swan song, either.

Iggy Pop, “Break Into Your Heart” (2016)
The opener to Post Pop Depression, my second favorite album of 2016. I also really enjoyed listening to him on a couple of live recordings — an old Stooges show in Georgia and a new bootleg from Paris — demonstrating he’s as full of piss and vinegar in 2016 as he was in 1973.


David Bowie, “Blackstar” (2016)
This time last year, this was on repeat, pretty much nonstop. Can’t remember the last time I was so excited for an album, staying up late just so I could download it and listen to it as soon as it was available. I was stoked that Bowie was back in top form.

David Bowie, “No Plan” (2016)
Wouldn’t it be great if all the other outtakes from the Blackstar sessions were unofficially officially “leaked” — like what happened with Toy — instead of the record company packaging them up as Bowie’s “last songs” or his “lost album” or whatever it is they’re gonna do? Yeah, I know. Not gonna happen. And 2017 isn’t gonna be any better than 2016, is it? Ah, well, Happy New Year, just the same.

A-side cover art:

Tiffany Bozic, “Altruism” (2015)

B-side cover art:

James Jean, “Year of the Monkey” (2016)

God of Water

What if God is water —
He’s gonna be pissed about how much
I just wasted zoning out in the shower.
What if God is a banana god
And He resents me for all the ones I’ve eaten
And all the ones I let rot.
What if God is meaner than Santa Claus
And turns our souls into something worse than coal.
What if God is a duck.
We could make all this into a book or a song,
A meeting, one day a week,
A celebration of doom, the last date in our calendars.
I don’t have any evidence one way or another
But I do believe in the miracle of indoor plumbing —
A toilet that swooshes my badness into a hole
And out to the ocean.
And I have just enough faith
To fear all of this.

(Originally published at

AARON BOONE’S HOME RUN was the end of everything. His offseason injury was part of the beginning.*

Edgar Renteria has made the last out of a Red Sox season twice in a row: first, on one side of the diamond, then on the other side.

One season ended with 69 wins. The very next ended with all of them.

It’s spring (apparently); it’s Opening Day; and, like every season before, anything can happen, again.

*Imagine the 2004 season with Boone — and without this or this.