• "I suppose you could say that Inez is a punk herself—a tough little hero from Queens with a funny voice. She does a thing with tenses as weird as the way Joey Ramone pronounces words. Her limits read as hooks. You could also say that as a writer, I learned a lot from punk about using the chords I had. Trouble with pacing? Be abrupt. Rush through. Just keep a strong beat. I learned things about flow from hip hop, too. You can find your rhythms in ordinary conversation. But always hang them from a beat." Carola Dibbell explains the music theory underlying her dystopian maternal punk novel The Only Ones for Two Dollar Radio.
• "Today, to the extent that we think at all about the turn-of-the-century hit parade, we regard it as prehistoric: quaint old music, redolent of ill-tuned pianos and gas-lit Rialtos, that was swept aside by grittier sounds, by the triumphal rise of jazz and rock ’n’ roll. If we listen closely to “I Love, I Love, I Love My Wife—But Oh! You Kid!” we may hear a surprising lesson: that the culture-quaking shocks, the salaciousness and transgression we associate with blues and jazz and rock and hip-hop, first arrived in American pop many years earlier. There is more than a nostalgia trip in this 105-year-old opéra bouffe about an adulterous husband and wife." Jody Rosen details the sexed-up viral hit of 1909 for Slate.
• "Plenty of pop is corrosive in one way or another, and hip-hop and R&B radio is a cornucopia of tough sex talk, aggressive seductions and more. But outright five-alarm misogyny has become increasingly rare. In the Drake era, especially, emotional accountability is at a premium and not a sign of outsiderness. So there’s something dishearteningly retrograde about these songs, and how they diminish women with lack of imagination and ease." Jon Caramanica considers the aesthetically enjoyable yet detestable "Loyal" and "Cut Her Off" for the New York Times.
* "`It’s a different mindset. I don’t know how they’d react if I took one of their songs and re-wrote the lyrics and recorded it, I don’t know if they’d like that. Maybe they wouldn’t care but I care. We work really really hard on our material. We spend months writing it and years recording it. You don’t go into a museum and paint a moustache on somebody else’s painting. Nobody would think of doing that." Don Henley goes on the record about Frank Ocean for the Sydney Daily Telegraph, oblivious to the entire history of rock music, L.H.O.O.Q., and the fact that he and his douchebag buddy Glenn Frey totally ripped off Otis Clay's "Trying to Live My Life Without You".
• "When you say the word "Reagan" — he was the coal that fueled that train of discontent for hardcore for so long. For me, as a not-out gay man in the early '80s, what the Reagan administration did — I guess, more importantly, what they didn't do — they couldn't say the words "AIDS" or "HIV" until the middle of 1985. So here I am, 20 years old, sexually aware but not out, confused, sometimes self-hating, with a president who cannot name the disease that may or may not kill me or my friends. That would be a source of anger for anybody." Bob Mould gives some tour spiel to NPR.
• "Leonard Bernstein once played Charles Ives' The Unanswered Question and asked a question: "Where is music going next?" And really I was drawn to the frontier of the movement… to the future. That's what was exciting me. Classical music had moved into atonality and into electronics and I really wanted to be a part of that. And the next movement into the future was jazz and Albert was the next step in that movement. Albert was the future. Jazz moved from Ornette [Coleman] to Albert. And Ornette was steady rhythms with chord changes that could go anywhere; it wasn't locked into a harmonic pattern - he called it harmolodics. And then Albert came along and liberated the time so it was totally free. It was very exciting. I was very young and the music was very physical, emotional and passionate and all of those things that a young person relates to. It was just exactly what I wanted to hear at that time." Jazz composer and synthesizer pioneer Annette Peacock talks to The Quietus.
• "Mr. Bley, when asked about the [Jimmy Giuffre] trio’s affinities with classical modernism, replied in an email that the idea was hogwash. (Not his exact wording.) “Giuffre started as a jazz composer and played jazz all his life,” he said. And the music readily supports that interpretation, though jazz audiences didn’t at the time. In a story that Mr. Swallow delights in retelling, the trio played its final gig at a coffeehouse on Bleecker Street, after dividing the earnings from the door and coming up with 35 cents apiece." Nate Chinen details the ongoing rediscovery of pioneering 1960s outfit (and subject of a recent Odyshape pick release) the Jimmy Giuffre 3 for the New York Times.