The Sharp Notes with Evan Toth

There’s a particular kind of band that doesn’t just make records; they build a whole working language around the survival of their career including community, self-reliance, all betwixt the strange weather of modern life. Soft Palms — the Long Beach duo of Julia Kugel and Scott Montoya — are just that.The duo’s new album, IN ECHO, is not background music and it is not nostalgia. It is a tense, analog-warm, dream-pop-adjacent transmission from the last five years of overload: media panic, emotional burnout, fractured relationships, and that low, constant hum of modern fight-or-flight living. The band has described this new sound as “low-key punk,” which feels about right — not punk as posture, but punk as pressure, restraint, abrasion, and some refusal.But Soft Palms are also doing something else with this moment. Alongside the album, Kugel and Montoya have written How To Be Self-Reliant In The Music Business, a plainspoken guide - a book - drawn from more than two decades of writing, recording, touring, booking, producing, organizing, and figuring out how to keep going when the music industry keeps asking artists to do more with less.And for physical media folks, IN ECHO is arriving in a fittingly tactile edition: black glitter vinyl with a band-exclusive Gold Rainbow foil jacket, a hand-screened and autographed insert, a 3-inch glitter sticker, and a 2-inch rainbow glimmer button — those versions are limited to just 75 copies worldwide.So today’s conversation is about IN ECHO, but it is also about the ecosystem that made it possible: independence, royalties, community, burnout, discipline, survival, and the stubborn belief that artists can still build something meaningful on their own terms.

Tonight we’re very pleased to welcome Nabil Ayers: a writer, podcaster, record store co-founder, label executive, musician and someone whose life and work sit directly at the crossroads of music, identity, memory, and family.Nabil is the president of Beggars Group, one of the most important independent label groups in the world, with a roster and history that includes artists such as The National, Big Thief, The Breeders, TV on the Radio, FKA twigs, and many others. Before that, he co-founded Sonic Boom Records store in Seattle, helping build the kind of independent record store culture that places like The Sharp Notes still believe in: human discovery, conversation, curation, and the strange magic of finding something you did not know you needed.He is also the author of My Life in the Sunshine, a memoir that explores his life as the son of legendary musician Roy Ayers, not through a conventional father-son relationship, but through absence, imagination, inheritance, and the complicated ways music can connect us to people we may not really know. His writing has appeared in The New York Times, The Guardian, Rolling Stone, and GQ, and his podcast Identified continues that search into family, identity, and the stories we build around where we come from.So tonight’s conversation is not only about records, labels, or the music business. It is about the lives behind the music, the communities that keep it moving, and the questions that follow us when sound becomes memory.Please join me in welcoming Nabil Ayers to The Sharp Notes.

Rhino Records began the way so many great record stories begin: with a little bit of money, a lot of taste, and a store full of people who believe that - above it all - it’s the music that matters.In this episode we speak with Richard Foos, co-founder of Rhino Records, about the independent shop that became one of the most important reissue labels in music history. Before Rhino was a catalog powerhouse, it was a record store built on humor, deep knowledge, and the stubborn belief that great records should not disappear because the industry had moved on to the next thing.This is also a conversation between two record store owners from different eras. Foos opened Rhino in the 1970s, when independent shops were everywhere and the major labels were letting huge pieces of musical history fall out of print. I’m building The Sharp Notes now, in a very different world, where vinyl has returned, physical media has become meaningful again, and curation may matter more than ever.So what has changed forever? The prices, the technology, the business model, and the way people discover music. What has stayed the same? The need for taste, the value of a good recommendation, the thrill of putting the right record in someone’s hands, and the belief that a record store can still be more than a place to buy things. It can be a classroom, a clubhouse, and sometimes, if the timing is right, the beginning of lifelong love of music.

Arturo Sandoval has lived several musical lives: Cuban-born trumpet virtuoso, Afro-Cuban jazz pioneer, Dizzy Gillespie protégé, composer, bandleader, and one of the most decorated musicians of his generation. He is a multiple Grammy winner, a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award recipient, a Presidential Medal of Freedom recipient, and a Kennedy Center Honoree. And still, after all of that, he remains a restless student of sound.His new album, Sangú, is his 49th, a number that happens to match the year of his birth, 1949. It began during the pandemic with hundreds of iPhone recordings: fragments, grooves, chord changes, and ideas captured at home. His son Arturo “Tury” Sandoval III and his daughter-in-law and manager Melody Lisman helped shape those sketches into one of the most personal records of his career. Even the title came by accident. You’ll soon find out how a slip of language became a statement of purpose.The album is rooted in Afro-Cuban rhythm, but it is not nostalgic. It is Sandoval still moving forward, still practicing every day, still chasing freedom through discipline. In our conversation, he talks about forbidden jazz in Cuba, the Voice of America on the radio, Dizzy, Clint Eastwood, vinyl, yes even Rachmaninoff.This is a conversation about Sangú, but also about never stopping the creative process. About carrying Cuba inside you. About finding freedom in music, and then earning that freedom again every day. At 77, Arturo Sandoval does not sound like an artist looking back. He sounds like one who is still beginning.

Today, we return to one of the most discussed albums in pop history: The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds.Nearly 60 years after Brian Wilson assembled its world of harmonies, longing, bass lines, sound effects, and impossible emotional detail, Interscope-Capitol’s Definitive Sound Series is preparing a new mono One Step edition sourced from analog tapes connected to the revered 1972 Brother/Reprise pressing. For collectors and audiophile listeners, that pressing has long held a special place because of its clarity, balance, and unusually vivid presentation of the album’s dense production.My guest is reissue producer Tom “Grover” Biery, who helped trace, verify, and bring these tapes back into the conversation with the help of Chris Bellman and the archive teams. We talk about why this source matters, what “three-dimensional mono” means, how a single-channel recording can still feel layered and spacious, and why the 1972 pressing may reveal something important about how Pet Sounds came to be understood after its original 1966 release.We also get into the practical side of making a record like this: tape boxes, archive clues, test pressings, quality control at RTI, the cost of producing a limited One Step edition, and the challenge of honoring a masterpiece without flattening it into mythology.Here is my conversation with Tom “Grover” Biery on Pet Sounds, the 1972 Brother/Reprise source, and the continuing search for the clearest way to hear one of Brian Wilson’s greatest achievements.

What does it mean for a musician to be free?Not free as a slogan, or a genre label, but truly free: free to search, free to return, free to follow a sound across a lifetime.Alan Braufman has been asking that question, in one form or another, for decades. Born in Brooklyn in 1951, Braufman became part of the New York free music community in the 1970s, connected to the downtown loft jazz scene, where music was not only performed, but lived. In 1975, he released Valley of Search, a debut whose title seemed to name something larger than a record: the artist as seeker, moving toward a sound, a feeling, a kind of musical truth.Now, with Anthem for Peace, Braufman returns with a new studio album produced by his nephew Nabil Ayers and recorded in a single day with Patricia Brennan, Chad Taylor, and Luke Stewart. The music is direct but open, melodic but untamed, rooted in free jazz while still reaching for song, spirit, and forward motion.His work has often been called optimistic free jazz, and maybe that phrase gets close to the center of it. Freedom can be beautiful, but it is not always easy. Searching can last a lifetime. So today, we ask Alan Braufman what he has been searching for, what he has found, and whether Anthem for Peace brings him closer to the freedom his music has been reaching toward all along.

Jarrod Lawson returns at an interesting moment in his career. With Just Let It, his third studio album, he’s not simply refining the sound that first brought him attention, he’s reshaping it. Long associated with a polished blend of soul, jazz, and R&B, Lawson leans into something more expansive here, pulling in hip-hop textures, contemporary production, and a wide circle of collaborators. The result is a record that resists easy categorization, less concerned with genre than with feel, instinct, and forward motion.There’s also a personal dimension running underneath the music. Now based in Nashville, and navigating life as a new father while maintaining an international touring schedule, Lawson is working through questions of balance, identity, and creative evolution in real time. That push and pull shows up in the music, but so does a sense of release. The album’s title is not accidental. It reflects a shift toward trusting the process, letting songs reveal themselves rather than forcing them into place, and allowing a broader set of influence - from ’90s R&B to classic soul - to coexist without overthinking it.What makes this conversation compelling is that Lawson is not looking backward, even as he carries those traditions with him. He’s building something that feels lived-in but not nostalgic, technical but not clinical. This is an artist who understands the lineage, but is more interested in what happens when you loosen your grip and let the music take you where it wants to go.

Mikaela Davis makes music that feels grounded, but never predictable. She has built a singular voice around the harp, and she uses it as a real expressive force, not as an ornament. On her new album Graceland Way, that voice carries the listener into a world shaped by atmosphere, instinct, and reflection.Made with close collaborators Dan Horne and John Lee Shannon in a hillside home studio in Los Angeles County, the record holds a strong sense of place. But Graceland Way is after more than mood alone. These songs move through heartbreak, longing, beauty, uncertainty, and the uneasy balance between light and shadow. There is warmth in the music, but also tension, and that tension gives the record much of its power.The album features a number of special guests, though its real center remains Davis herself and the emotional language she builds through the harp, the songs, and the world that surrounds them. What makes this record compelling is not only its sound, but the larger set of questions inside it: how environment shapes creation, how collaboration changes a song, how memory and myth blur together, and how music can alter the way we feel and see.Today, we’re talking with Mikaela Davis about Graceland Way, about songwriting, duality, and creative partnership, and about making a record that feels both intimate and transportive.

There’s a version of Spin Magazine that most people remember. The 1990s disruptor. Irreverent, artist-driven, willing to challenge the norms of mainstream music coverage while helping define the alternative music conversation in real time. For me, it was essential reading. At a moment when many magazines felt increasingly commercial, Spin made space for something weirder, without losing its grip on the broader culture.But that version doesn’t quite explain what Spin is now.Under CEO Jimmy Hutcheson, the brand has been rebuilt with a dual mandate. Honor the legacy, but don’t get trapped in it. That means a quarterly print magazine that leans into curation and permanence, alongside a daily digital operation pushing out a steady stream of coverage. It also means thinking beyond publishing: record labels, film and TV partnerships, live events, even a foothold in music tech.What does editorial authority look like in an era where artists can bypass media entirely, where algorithms shape discovery?Jimmy Hutcheson joins me to talk about rebuilding Spin, the value of holding some paper in your hand, reaching a new generation without losing the old one, and the ways in which a legacy music publication fits in a landscape that barely resembles the one it came from.

There’s a version of Frank Hannon most listeners think they know. As co-founder and lead guitarist of Tesla, his playing helped define a more grounded, blues-informed alternative to the excess of late ’80s hard rock. Melody over flash. Feel over spectacle.But my entry point wasn’t the studio records. It was Five Man Acoustical Jam. I wore that CD out as a kid. It reshaped what a rock band could sound like. I never owned it on vinyl, but always have my eyes peeled for a copy.That tension, between structure and looseness, runs through Hannon’s career. Alongside the arena legacy is a deeper Bay Area lineage. Improvisation, atmosphere, and the influence of players like Dickey Betts.It comes into focus on his new album, Reflections, and especially on “San Francisco,” an open-ended, first-take piece that leans into that psychedelic tradition, visually and musically, tracing back to the Summer of Love.So what happens when a player known for precision follows instinct instead?Frank Hannon joins me to talk about that side of his work, the road to Reflections, and of course, Tesla.

Welcome to The Sharp Notes Podcast. I’m Evan Toth, and this episode was recorded live in front of an audience at The Sharp Notes record store inside the Garden State Plaza in Paramus, New Jersey.My guest is author, journalist, and vinyl-world lifer Larry Jaffee, a guy whose career has basically been one long field recording of the music business, from punk chaos to pressing plant logistics. Larry wrote Record Store Day: The Most Improbable Comeback of the 21st Century, the inside story of how a scrappy idea turned into the biggest annual holiday on the record collector calendar, and why independent shops went from “endangered species” to cultural town squares again.But Larry’s not just chronicling the vinyl revival. He’s trying to rewire it. This interview was recorded just days before he moved to Iceland to co-found Thermal Beets Records, a geothermal-powered pressing plant concept aiming at making plant-based records from sugar beets instead of traditional PVC. So yes, we go from limited edition RSD lore to the question lurking behind every new release: what does it cost, environmentally, and otherwise, to keep this format alive and thriving?

We welcome back a familiar and always thoughtful voice in music criticism and biography, Jude Warne. With the recent paperback release of her acclaimed authorized biography America: The Band, and the arrival of her deep-dive study Lowdown: The Music of Boz Scaggs, Jude joins us at a moment when her work continues to expand its reach and sharpen its focus. We have spoken together a few times now, but the road never seems to double back. Each visit opens a new corridor into the music. She also happens to be the author of one of the most perceptive pieces written about my own record, The Show.Warne has built a reputation for listening carefully and writing even closer, tracing the emotional and sonic contours of artists with the kind of patience that modern music coverage rarely affords. Whether she is unpacking the layered harmonies of America or the cool, shifting grooves of Boz Scaggs, her work reminds us that great music writing is not just about facts and timelines. It is about translating sound into story and helping us hear familiar records with fresh ears.This conversation was recorded live in front of an audience at The Sharp Notes record store in the Garden State Plaza in Paramus, New Jersey. As you will hear, when thoughtful music writing meets a room full of serious listeners, the result is exactly what you hope for: curiosity, discovery, and a few moments that might send you back to your turntable.

This episode is a little different, because what you’re about to hear was recorded live, in front of an audience, right here inside The Sharp Notes record store at the Garden State Plaza in Paramus, New Jersey. You might catch the room in it: few laughs, knowing nods, and shoppers walking past our front window. My guest is author and music journalist Alan Light. Over the years he’s written as a rock critic for Rolling Stone, served as editor-in-chief at Vibe and Spin and he’s a regular contributor to The New York Times. He’s also the author of books that take pop culture seriously without draining it of feeling, including The Holy or the Broken, his deep dive into the long, strange ascent of Leonard Cohen's, “Hallelujah.”His newest book is Don’t Stop: a kaleidoscopic look at Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours. The tome is not just the well-worn legend of who was breaking up with whom, but how that record became a kind of emotional public square, the way it keeps pulling in young listeners nearly fifty years later, and why it still shows up everywhere, from TV and comedy sketches to the streaming era and TikTok. Alan’s reporting brings in artists and fans across generations, asking a simple question that turns out to be hard to answer: what is it about Rumours that refuses let go?In this conversation, we dig into the album’s mythology, its musical intelligence, and its afterlife. So, here's our live chat. Maybe - next time - you'll join us.

This episode’s guest is one of those rare studio minds who makes the control room feel less like a workplace and more like a laboratory with excellent taste.Sylvia Massy is a producer, mixer, and engineer whose credits stretch from punk grit to arena-scale rock and beyond. Her name is often spoken as she produced Tool’s Undertow, but her story doesn’t start with platinum plaques. It starts in the mid-’80s trenches, making compilations, working with punk bands, engineering metal records, and learning the kind of hard-won lessons you only get when the tape is rolling and the stakes are real. From there, she becomes a crucial behind-the-boards force in Los Angeles, intersects with the Sound City recording studio mythology, and winds up in the orbit of Rick Rubin’s American Recordings era, touching projects that helped define what “big” sounded like in the ’90s.But the reason I wanted Sylvia on the show isn’t just the résumé. It’s the method. Sylvia is obsessed, in the best way, with recording technology and the physical stuff of sound. Consoles, mics, outboard gear, oddball techniques, and the kind of creative decisions that make an outsider sit up and pay attention. Her approach is curious, practical, fearless, and frequently hilarious.We also talk about Studio Confidential, a new live, in-person onstage conversation series launching in New York City. It’s designed to pull back the curtain on legendary sessions and the people who actually built those records from the inside out. The official residency runs February 3 through March 1, 2026 at NYC’s Sheen Center for Thought & Culture, with multiple shows each week.If Studio Confidential is about pulling back the curtain, Sylvia’s the person you want holding the flashlight. 

Some conversations begin with music. This one begins with language. A little French. A little English. When this interview takes place, it's a late night in Brussels, where the streets are quiet, the restaurants are closing down, and Lucien Fraipont (fray-pon), who records and performs under the names Robbing Millions and DUID, is generous enough to stay awake a bit longer and talk about his multifaced career in music.What follows is less an interview and more a map of how a musician becomes himself. How jazz training folds into electronic textures. How a teenage obsession with Nirvana morphs into a lifelong interest in improvisation. And how a home studio project grows into something restless and alive. Here, alter egos are less about costume changes and more about giving different parts of the same creative mind room to breathe.We talk about playing alone onstage with samplers and pedals, the strange discipline of improvising inside machines, the Brussels underground, working with Mark Hollander on Aksak Maboul records, and the beautiful problem of wanting to do everything at once: produce, perform, collaborate, wander.If you care about how music evolves, how scenes survive, and how curiosity keeps artists young, this conversation is for you.

There are musicians who treat tradition like a museum, and then there are musicians who treat it like a passport. Stéphane Wrembel belongs firmly in the second category.You may know his work from the soundtracks to Midnight in Paris or Vicky Cristina Barcelona, those melodies that drift in from another time but somehow land right in your lap. His newest release, Django New Orleans II: Hors-Série, leans into that same sensation. It’s a record that threads Django Reinhardt’s Jazz Manouche through the brass-soaked spirit of New Orleans, recorded with a nine-piece ensemble of some of New York’s most serious improvisers, and shaped by Wrembel’s own restless sense of exploration. The album moves easily from classic repertoire to new original compositions, and along the way, Wrembel steps into new territory by singing for the first time on record, offering up two Serge Gainsbourg songs with a shared Parisian accent and an almost disarming sense of vulnerability.“Hors-Série” means special edition, but this feels more like a field journal. It captures an artist testing new ground without abandoning the old maps. Today we talk with Stéphane about that journey, about what happens when Django meets New Orleans, about why Gainsbourg mattered enough to get him to finally step to the microphone, and about treating music not as something fixed and finished, but as something alive, breathing, and in motion.

Independence in music is usually described as freedom. In practice, it is a long sequence of decisions that can’t be outsourced. Writing the songs. Recording the tracks. Producing the record. Paying for the mistakes. Owning that outcome.That path has shaped Tamar Berk’s career from the start. Working largely outside the industry’s infrastructure, she has built a body of work defined by personal control, emotional directness, and the pressure of doing it all yourself. Her new album ocd was released in late 2025 and it moves through looping thoughts, emotional unraveling, and the patterns that repeat whether we want them to or not. Fuzzed guitars, reverb-heavy textures, and melodies stay close; it is a record about the mind when it refuses to let go.Raised on classical piano and early Disney soundtracks, later influenced by the Beatles, David Bowie, Liz Phair, and Elliott Smith, Tamar developed an instinct for melody and emotional clarity that has carried her through years of work in the Chicago, Portland, and San Diego scenes. Her previous releases include The Restless Dreams of Youth, Start at the End, Tiny Injuries, and Good Times for a Change. Along the way, her music has been recognized by KCRW, Fader, Creem, and Shindig, with multiple nominations from the San Diego Music Awards, while she has continued to write, record, and produce her work on her own terms.What follows is a conversation about the lived reality of that independence. The creative control, the isolation if you will and maybe even a little bit of the financial strain. But, also the satisfaction of hearing something finished and knowing exactly how it got there. ocd is the current chapter in Tamar’s story.

For nearly three decades, Steve Stanley has been one of the quiet architects behind how we remember mid-century American pop. His work as a reissue producer and archivist has revived artists who slipped through the cracks of the industry machine, restoring not only their music but the cultural scaffolding around it. From Del-Fi to Rev-Ola to his own Now Sounds imprint, Stanley has built a body of work that treats forgotten pop not as nostalgia but as evidence: proof that the margins of the 1960s were sometimes more interesting than its center.What distinguishes Stanley isn’t just the scholarship. It's intuition. He has an ear for artists who nearly made it, who should have made it, who made something exquisite - but briefly - and he approaches their histories with a precision that resists mythmaking even as it acknowledges the romance of lost possibilities. His design work reinforces that impulse. The packaging, sequencing, and annotation in his projects aren’t ornamental; they’re part of the narrative engine, a way of giving listeners the context they never got the first time around.With the new vinyl reissue of Eternity’s Children on High Moon Records, Stanley returns to one of the great unsolved stories of sunshine pop. These albums have lived half their lives in rumor and scarcity, admired by collectors but underexamined by the larger world. Stanley’s work on this project gives the band’s complicated and fascinating legacy its first real chance to be understood on its own terms. Our conversation begins there, in the space between what history remembers and what it forgot to write down.

It’s a remarkable moment to be a record collector. Music lovers have never had more ways to hear their favorite albums in whatever format feels right: hi-res files, streaming on the move, the whole buffet. And yet, there’s a meaningful difference between a solid pressing and a pressing built to be the definitive document of an album. Audiophile labels have chased that ideal for decades: each working to deliver versions that honor the intent and the sound.Plenty of listeners have caught on. If spending a little more means skipping the long hunt through used bins and getting a pristine, purpose-built edition, the choice starts to feel pretty rational.That’s where the Definitive Sound Series steps in. Interscope Records aims to create what they consider the best possible versions of key albums from their catalog. Numbered, limited editions. Gatefold tip-on jackets. A dedicated DSS slipcase. And a “one-step” process that moves straight from lacquer to stamper for maximal clarity.Their latest release is shepherded by Tom “Grover” Biery, who produced the new edition of Nat King Cole’s The Christmas Song. You’ve lived with these recordings for years, but Grover’s betting this edition will shift what you think you know. It includes two tracks not on the original album - “O Come All Ye Faithful” and “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” - and was assembled from three separate three-track analog tapes.Grover’s path through the music industry has been long and impactful. He helped cultivate careers for Metallica, The Flaming Lips, The Black Keys, and others. He led operations as General Manager of Warner Bros. Records and later served as Executive Vice President of BMG’s Recorded Music US division. On top of all that, he co-founded Slow Down Sounds, a vinyl-only reissue label dedicated to thoughtfully curated releases. Their recent project brings newly issued Chet Baker recordings from Bruce Weber’s Let’s Get Lost documentary, mastered by Levi Seitz at Black Belt Mastering from fresh 48/24 transfers and pressed on 180-gram Neotech vinyl by RTI.So dig into Nat King Cole, revisit Chet Baker, and explore how Grover tests the upper limits of how good a record can truly sound.

There are people who make great sound feel less like a secret society and more like an open door. Bob Hazelwood is one of them. He is the Director of Engineering and Product Development at Andover Audio, and his career runs through many major players in the industry. He grew up in South Jersey, built his first amplifier at fifteen, and has been chasing better sound ever since. He loves working with his hands, he loves creating things that actually make life feel richer, and he has a deep belief that music shouldn’t require a technical translation guide.That outlook is woven into Andover’s mission. The company was built on the idea that audiophile quality should not feel intimidating. Good sound can get technical fast, but most listeners simply want music in their homes that feels natural, full, and easy to live with. Andover approaches that goal by pairing thoughtful engineering with designs that stay out of your way. Their IsoGroove technology is a perfect example. It keeps a turntable steady even when it sits directly on its own speaker, a simple but transformative insight that shapes the Andover-One, the SpinBase, and the rest of the company’s approachable hi-fi line.Their newest chapter is SpinPlay, announced only recently. It takes the philosophy behind the Andover-One and brings it to an even more accessible place. A semi-automatic turntable. A preinstalled cartridge. A factory-set counterweight. A wide, room-filling sound field powered by independent amplification. It is a system that drops easily into the flow of a home and delivers a genuine audiophile experience without the hassle or the learning curve. For many listeners, it may be the first and last record player they need.Bob is central to all of this. He understands the engineering, but he also understands the psychology of listening: that moment when music fills a room and reminds you why you wanted better sound in the first place. He is passionate about his family, about fixing bad audio where he finds it, about slot car racing and motorcycles and Frank Zappa, and about building products that make it simple for people to love music more deeply.So please welcome Bob Hazelwood of Andover Audio, a company proving that great sound can feel like an invitation rather than an initiation.

Everyone agrees that music and the arts are essential — they make us smarter, more empathetic, more human. You’ll hear it in every school mission statement, every campaign speech, every conversation about what “really matters” for kids.And yet, walk into most public schools and the first thing on the chopping block is still the music program. It’s as if we all nodded our heads in agreement and then quietly decided to spend the money somewhere else.Our guest today, Anthony Mazzocchi, has built a career trying to change that equation. He’s a GRAMMY®-nominated music educator, trombonist, and now the Executive Director of Kaufman Music Center in New York City which is home to the nation’s only K–12 public school with a full music-focused curriculum.Anthony’s story is one of those rare intersections where the orchestra pit meets the classroom. From leading 100 middle schoolers in a cramped Brooklyn band room to shaping one of the most respected music education programs in the country, his life’s work is a masterclass in how music transforms learning, and how learning transforms lives.We talk about what it means to teach through sound, why access to these skills still feels like a luxury, and how to build institutions that teach lessons that transcend music itself.So pull up a chair, maybe dust off your old band instrument, and join us for a conversation about the future of education; one built on rhythm, resonance, and maybe a little bit of rebellion.

There’s a question that’s been circling the music world for a while now — and it’s only getting louder: how does a new artist actually get heard today?Because if you look around, the industry that once thrived on risk and discovery now seems to cling to nostalgia like a life raft. Major labels and festival lineups read like a roll call of the same veterans — the safe bets, the proven draws — while entire generations of emerging voices wait at the edges, wondering where exactly the door went.But out there, between the boardrooms and the barrooms, something else is happening. A quiet recalibration. Small venues, artist collectives, and independent promoters are starting to rebuild the ecosystem from the ground up: one room, one night, one new artist at a time.That’s where today’s guests come in.Cat Henry is the Executive Director of the Live Music Society, a nonprofit working to keep small venues alive, the kinds of places where artists first find their voice and communities gather to listen. Her organization has been putting real financial and logistical muscle behind those stages, including their support for the tour we’re talking about today.Tom DeGeorge, COO of D-Tour, helps connect a network of independent venues and promoters across the country, giving artists and local scenes a fighting chance to operate outside the corporate machine. He’s one of the key architects behind this tour’s routing and strategy.And at the center of it all is Jenna Fournier, known to fans as Kid Tigrrr - the headlining artist whose creative fingerprints are all over this project, from the music itself to the visual identity and storytelling that tie it all together. She represents that very question we started with: how does an independent artist break through today — not by chasing the algorithm, but by maybe by building something that feels real?Together, we’re talking about the D-Tour and Live Music Society collaboration - One Night Live - what it says about where live music is heading, the economics of trying to make it sustainable, and whether the next generation of artists can still carve out their space in a world dominated by the past.Because if there’s still a way forward for new live music, this might just be what it looks like.

This episode feels like a meeting across time — the past, present, and future of vinyl commerce sitting down for a conversation. On one side of the table, there’s Chad Kassem — the founder of Acoustic Sounds, Analogue Productions, and Quality Record Pressings — a man whose passion for high-fidelity sound and meticulous craftsmanship helped revive the vinyl industry when nearly everyone else was going digital. And on the other side, there’s me — a fella who just opened The Sharp Notes, a new brick-and-mortar record store in Paramus, New Jersey, and who’s still figuring out what it really takes to run a record business day-to-day.This isn’t just a story about vinyl records; it’s about building something real — from passion and persistence to payroll and pressing plants. Chad’s been doing this for decades, navigating every boom, bust, and comeback that the format has seen. So in this conversation, we dig into both the romance and the reality of running a vinyl empire: the nuts and bolts, the risks, the grind, and the enduring love of music that keeps it all turning.For me, it felt a bit like talking to the oracle of wax — a veteran who’s paved the way for the rest of us who believe that vinyl still matters.

Be honest — when was the last time you listened to a record all the way through, without checking your phone? No notifications. No scrolling. No playlists on shuffle. Just… listening.In a world that never stops pinging, Discogs — yes, the massive online music database and marketplace — is asking us to do something radical: to step away. On October 18th, they’re launching a global initiative called Dis/Connect, it’s a day that invites music lovers everywhere to unplug from devices, skip the stream, and spend a single day reconnecting with the joy of listening — really listening.It’s a bold move for a digital platform built on connection. So in this episode, I talk with Jeffrey Smith, Vice President of Marketing at Discogs, about what happens when a tech company tells its users to log off. We get into the ideas behind Dis/Connect, the paradox of leading an online movement about going offline, and the nuts and bolts of what keeps Discogs thriving as the world’s biggest record-collecting community.So… could you do it? Could you go a whole day without the scroll — and just let the music play? Let’s find out.

Few albums in the history of rock music have had a journey as unlikely—or as triumphant—as Odessey and Oracle. Recorded at Abbey Road Studios in 1967 during the final months of the original Zombies, the record was released only after the band had already broken up. And yet, what emerged from that bittersweet moment was a British psych-pop masterpiece: an album that gave us “Time of the Season,” and later earned its place on Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time and today, it stands as a landmark of 1960s pop imagination.This year marks a particularly special milestone: the first U.S. release of the band’s original mono mix—remastered, beautifully presented, and accompanied by new liner notes from David Fricke. For longtime fans, it’s a chance to hear the record as it was originally intended in 1968.Today, Colin Blunstone returns to this podcast for the second time—not to rehash the myth of Odessey and Oracle, but to explore what it really felt like to be part of the band in that moment, when the record was both a swan song and, ultimately, a timeless resurrection. Our conversation is less about track-by-track analysis and more about the emotions behind the music, and the way history has finally caught up with one of the greatest rock albums ever made.

Few musicians have had as wide-ranging an impact on popular music as Steve Porcaro. As a founding member of Toto, his synthesizer work helped define an era—on hits like “Africa,” “Rosanna,” and “Hold the Line.” But his influence doesn’t stop there. Steve co-wrote “Human Nature,” one of the most enduring tracks on Michael Jackson’s Thriller, still the best-selling album of all time, and he became a go-to sound architect for legends from Quincy Jones to Don Henley. His textured, atmospheric programming on songs like “Boys of Summer” and “Dirty Laundry” set the sonic standard for a generation. Beyond the pop charts, Steve has left his mark on film and television, scoring projects from Justified to Dune.Today, Steve continues to push forward. After releasing his first solo album, Someday, Somehow, in 2016, he’s preparing the release of his follow-up, The Very Day, coming in 2025 on a Sun Records imprint. In this conversation, we trace his remarkable journey—from high school dropout on tour with Gary Wright to hit-maker, pioneer, and storyteller—and dig into the creative process behind his new work.

Tito Puente was more than a legend of Latin music, he was a cultural force who reached far beyond the Latino world. For those of us who grew up in the ’80s and ’90s, his presence was everywhere. By the time of his passing in 2000, his loss resonated deeply, especially here in the New York City metro area, where his music had long been part of our region’s heartbeat.His son, Tito Puente Jr., has embraced that legacy while shaping his own path. As you’ll hear, he doesn’t simply perform—though his live shows with his band are a celebration in themselves—he also brings a teacher’s spirit, eager to remind audiences of the history behind the rhythms. The music didn’t emerge in a vacuum; his legendary father laid much of its foundation. At the same time, Tito Jr. is tuned in to today’s renewed appreciation for salsa and Latino greats, and we talk about Craft Recordings’ ambitious reissue campaign of the Fania and Tico catalogs.On Friday, September 19, Tito Puente Jr. and his big band will bring that energy to the Westfield Garden State Plaza to launch the celebration of National Hispanic Heritage Month. The Sharp Notes record shop will be open across the mall, but we’ll also have a satellite location located near where Tito is performing where we’ll offer some of our best with a special focus on Latin and Afro-Cuban recordings to complement the performance.Join me and Tito as we talk about his career, the lasting influence of his father, and the joy of rediscovering music through the grooves of a new record.

Meet Luke Marzec, a British singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist whose music lives at the crossroads of soul, jazz, and modern storytelling. His new single, “Growing Up With You,” is a heartfelt reflection on the friendships that shape us — a theme that runs deeply through his latest album, Something Good Out of Nothing.Luke studied classical and jazz at the Royal College of Music and Trinity Conservatoire, but his path has never been a straight academic line. He’s just as comfortable leading a stripped-down band in a small Devon venue as he is experimenting with synths or building songs from the ground up in his home studio. Off stage, he balances music with work in the film and television world, utilizing a creative eye that seems to spill into every part of his life.In our conversation, Luke talks about why he prefers strict limits when writing, how friendships from his teenage years still guide his art, and what it means to return to live instruments after years of computer-based production. It’s about roots, freedom, and creating meaning out of the simplest materials.So settle in — this is Luke Marzec.

In the 1990s, Us3 reshaped the global music landscape by fusing hip-hop and jazz in ways that felt both groundbreaking and a little bit inevitable. Their 1993 debut, Hand on the Torch, became Blue Note Records’ first platinum-selling album and introduced an entire generation to the possibilities of genre fusion. Yet, after a run of chart success and international touring, the project receded from the spotlight, and founder/producer Geoff Wilkinson stepped into other creative lanes.After a decade-long hiatus beginning in 2014, Wilkinson has returned with Soundtrack—a striking reinvention that distances itself from Us3’s past vocal-driven records. His new work leans fully into instrumental storytelling, drawing on orchestral textures, intricate rhythm patterns, and social commentary. Wilkinson joins me on this episode to discuss why now was the right time to resurrect his genre-bending alter ego.

Chris Stamey has long been a quietly pivotal figure in American music. From co-founding the influential avant-pop band The dB’s and releasing early indie classics, to his work with Alex Chilton, Big Star’s Jody Stephens, and a wide array of sonic adventurers, his career has bridged the experimental and the melodic, the cerebral and the emotional. With his latest album, Anything Is Possible, Stamey returns not to the past, but to the feelings that defined it, particularly the wonder and harmonic richness of AM radio pop from the late 1950s and early ’60s. Featuring collaborators like the the Lemon Twigs, Marshall Crenshaw, Mitch Easter, and members of the Brian Wilson band and Wilco, the record is both deeply personal and richly collaborative, built from meticulous arrangements and inspired improvisations. Stamey’s journey—from CBGBs to Chapel Hill, from indie icon to orchestrator of Big Star’s Third concerts—has always been about curiosity, craft, and a refusal to settle into any single identity. In this conversation, we speak with Stamey about the making of Anything Is Possible, his thoughts on musical memory, harmonic language, and collaboration, and how decades of experience continue to sharpen his vision rather than blur it.

In a moment where algorithms increasingly shape what we hear, see, and feel, Mocky’s Music Will Explain offers something radically simple: the sound of human beings in a room, making music together. Known for his shape-shifting musical identity and wide-ranging collaborations, Mocky’s work has always blurred the lines between genre and geography. But on his new album, released via Stones Throw, he turns inward and local, recording in his Los Angeles garage with friends and neighbors, using a single microphone and an old tape recorder.The result is intimate, communal, and defiantly analog—a record built on vocal harmonies, live instruments, and a spirit of spontaneity. With influences ranging from the Bee Gees to Brazilian music to Sesame Street singalongs, Music Will Explain channels a timeless joy, even as it wrestles with big questions about creativity and connection in the age of AI.We spoke with Mocky about his search for the “sound of humans,” the process of capturing voices to tape, and why music still has the power to explain what words can’t. What follows is a conversation about the deep value of making something real.

The introduction most often associated with producer—and champion of unfairly unheard music—Zev Feldman, compares him to an archaeologist: the “Indiana Jones of jazz,” as The New Yorker wrote in 2023. Fittingly, Feldman’s occasional SiriusXM radio show is cleverly titled Jazz Detective. In a reissue landscape often focused on bringing listeners albums they may already own in triplicate, Zev shines his producer’s flashlight into unexplored corners of the archive: frequently unearthing recordings that may not have seen the light of day since they were first made.We’re on an adventure in audiophile archeology, so let’s meet the hero of this serial. A devoted record fanatic from a young age, Zev made his way into the music industry through retail, eventually landing in distribution. It was there he met Resonance Records’ George Klabin, who encouraged him to lean into his passion for music, collecting, and archiving, and to try his hand in the producer’s seat. Since then, Feldman has produced albums not only for Resonance, but also for Blue Note, Prestige, Riverside Records, and many others.While our conversation was originally focused on two recent Elemental Music releases—Bill Evans Further Ahead: Live in Finland (1964–1969) and Art Pepper: An Afternoon in Norway – The Kongsberg Concert—it quickly evolved into something more. We found ourselves excavating the heart of Zev’s work, asking the essential question: how does the digger do the digging?Dig in to find out.

Charles “Wigg” Walker’s voice isn’t just soulful, it’s resilient. His decades-long journey through the unpredictable terrain of the music industry is one of grit, adaptability, and unwavering devotion to the craft. From singing on Nashville street corners as a teen to warming up crowds for––and being fined by––James Brown, to reinventing himself across continents and genres, Wigg never quit. Music didn’t always pay the bills––he drove vans, ran hot dog stands, and learned firsthand that making a life in show business is often about survival more than stardom. In this candid conversation, Wigg reflects on what it really takes to endure in an industry that can be as thankless as it is thrilling. His latest record, "This Love is Gonna Last", was born from personal loss and creative renewal andcarries the weight of a life fully lived and a voice that still has something to say. Now in his 80s and performing weekly in Nashville, Walker reminds us that staying true to your voice—literally and figuratively—is a form of defiance, power, and peace. This isn’t a story of overnight success. It’s the long arc of commitment, connection, and keeping the fire lit—no matter what.

For over four decades, Dennis Diken has embodied the enduring spirit of American rock and roll as the drummer and co-founder of The Smithereens. In this wide-ranging conversation, Diken reflects on the band’s legacy while underscoring the urgency and relevance of their music in 2025. As the industry shifts toward streaming and fragmented attention, Diken and his bandmates continue to value the full-album experience, recently reissuing 2011 on vinyl—a record originally created as both homage and evolution of their earlier work. Recorded with producer Don Dixon and at Mitch Easter’s Fidelitorium studio, the album offers a vivid snapshot of a group still energized by collaboration, memory, and craft.Diken speaks with clarity and affection about the band’s late singer, Pat DiNizio, whose presence remains central to their existence. He also addresses the band’s deep New Jersey roots and blue-collar ethos, where directness and commitment shaped both sound and identity. Throughout the interview, a throughline emerges: the notion that music, when rooted in authenticity and executed with intention, doesn’t age—it resonates.Whether reminiscing about their musical influences, navigating the business realities of the 21st century, or highlighting emerging rock bands that echo their passion, Diken offers thoughtful insight into the persistence of the band format in a rapidly changing landscape. The result is less a look back than a testament to rock and roll’s lasting vitality—and a reminder that, for some, playing music isn’t a phase. It’s a lifelong calling.

Being a rockstar might look effortless from the outside, but as Cody Hanson of Hinder makes clear, staying relevant in the music world takes far more than talent. In this revealing conversation, the drummer and co-founder of the multi-platinum band pulls back the curtain on the real work behind the music—from scrapping a full album that didn’t feel honest, to reigniting the band’s passion with the song that would become their seventh studio album, Bring Me Back to Life.What’s striking isn’t just Hanson’s musical role, but his deep involvement in every aspect of the band’s output—recording on the road, mixing and mastering at home, designing the artwork, even managing the logistics of owning a tour bus. His reflections highlight how today’s artists must blend creativity with strategy, especially in a world dominated by streaming, social media, and emerging tools like AI.Ultimately, Hanson’s story is one of resilience and reinvention. Whether building a recording studio on a moving bus or navigating the shadow of a massive hit, Hinder’s journey shows that the magic of rock and roll is built on long hours, smart pivots, and the unshakable drive to just keep creating.

Singer-songwriter Jenny Owen Youngs has never been one to shy away from transformation. In revisiting Avalanche for its deluxe edition, she offers listeners not just a deeper look at the record but a fuller portrait of herself: one that is shaped by collaboration, reinvention, and a willingness to let imperfections breathe. For Youngs, songs aren’t just crafted; they’re lived in, layered, and continually reinterpreted. The deluxe edition reflects this ethos, blending intimate demos, reimaginings, and remixes that speak to a creative process rooted as much in community as in craft.What emerges in conversation with Youngs is a portrait of an artist who balances vulnerability with wit and depth with disarming warmth. Throughout our chat, punctuated by laughter, storytelling, and a shared appreciation for physical media and flawed beauty, it felt more like catching up with an old friend than interviewing a seasoned professional. Her openness about the artistic process, emotional stamina, and the strange alchemy of songwriting reveals a creator unafraid to blur the lines between the personal and the universal.Youngs is as reflective about her own journey as she is generous with her insights. Whether discussing the accidental poetry of a rain-soaked piano take, the tactile pleasures of vinyl, or the resonance of her music with listeners both young and old, she speaks with the kind of clarity that only comes from years of growth and self-inquiry. It’s a conversation about music, sure, but also about time, presence, and the strange comfort of hearing your own story echoed in someone else’s life.

In an era when the term "rock band" can feel like a nostalgic nod to a fading archetype, Band of Skulls has always stood as the real deal: gritty, authentic, and unrelentingly driven. With their forthcoming retrospective box set Cold Fame, frontman Russell Marsden digs deep into the band’s archives to illuminate the long, winding, and often unpredictable road that led to their breakout debut Baby Darling Doll Face Honey. In our conversation, Marsden reflects not only on the music but on the memories, the missteps, and the near-mystical moments that have defined their journey.More than just a collection of rarities and reissues, Cold Fame offers fans a window into the band’s early incarnation and the evolution that followed. Marsden shares stories of impromptu opportunities, DIY demos made with chopsticks and saucepans, and surreal full-circle moments like recording in the very studio that inspired one of their biggest songs. His insights reveal the band's determination, resourcefulness, and refusal to chase trends.What emerges from this retrospective is not only a celebration of Band of Skulls' past but a powerful testament to persistence, reinvention, and the timeless appeal of rock and roll. Marsden, now the sole original member forging ahead with a new band, discusses how returning to his sonic roots has shaped his upcoming music. If the past is any indication, what comes next won’t just revisit familiar territory, it’ll reassert Band of Skulls’ place in the lineage of great British rock.

When Chuck Prophet found himself lingering around after a gig in San Francisco, his band still buzzing from a sold-out set, he wasn’t expecting to stumble into a musical revelation. But as the club's DJ cued up a needle-drop on a weathered vinyl slab of cumbia, and the bass notes spilled through the subs, Prophet experienced something rare and electric. It was an atmosphere alive with rhythm, with movement, with the kind of communal joy that doesn’t require translation. That night planted a musical seed. As the patrons of the Mission District took to the floor, so too did Chuck to find his footing, not just musically, but spiritually and emotionally. The music called to him and he smartly answered.His new album Wake the Dead, recorded live in-studio with members of both his longtime band The Mission Express and the Salinas-based cumbia group ¿Qiensave?, isn’t just an artistic pivot, it’s a personal renaissance. In the throes of cancer treatment, Prophet dove deep into cumbia’s vinyl history, crate-digging and DJ’ing his discoveries. He wasn’t just collecting records. He was collecting meaning. And through this rhythmic, border-crossing genre - music born of migration and resilience - he found a new sense of vitality. Wake the Dead is the sound of a man surfacing again: joyous, vulnerable, and utterly alive.Critics have praised the new record and they are right to do so. But the true magic of Wake the Dead is how clearly it reflects an artist who’s gotten his groove back, through dance, through friends, through the dusty grooves of Latin America. It’s an album born not of calculation, but of a compulsion of healing and exploration and as Prophet leans into this bright new chapter - fronting the dance band that no one saw coming - it’s a reminder that healing, like music, often comes from sources that are most unexpected.

After decades navigating the high-stakes world of Hollywood as Chief Counsel for Walt Disney Studios, Steve Bardwil has traded legal briefs for guitar riffs. His recent leap into full-time musicianship culminates in the release of Nothing But Time, a deeply personal and collaboratively rich album produced by the legendary Joe Chiccarelli. What began as a lifelong side-passion has now become the central focus of a second act that blends Bardwil’s storytelling instincts with a joyful, rootsy rock sensibility.In this candid conversation, Bardwil discusses the leap from boardrooms to bandstands, detailing his journey from advising Marvel and Pixar to collaborating with veteran session players and building a band with longtime friends. With his creative compass set toward optimism and connection, Bardwil shares how his music avoids melancholia in favor of inspiration; crafting songs that uplift without preaching. He also opens up about the intensive, detail-driven studio process with Chiccarelli, where no snare drum or tempo was left unexamined.The result is an album that sounds both timeless and contemporary, echoing Bardwil’s deep respect for rock traditions while embracing modern studio craftsmanship. From rehearsal rooms to legendary stages like the Troubadour, Bardwil and his band are now delivering the kind of heartfelt performances that only come from a life rich with experience — and a clear-eyed commitment to starting fresh.

Few writers can translate the sound of an album into a story with the grace and acuity of Jude Warne. Known for her deep dives into the lives of musical icons, Warne returns with her second music biography—this time turning her focus to the ever-evolving Boz Scaggs, titled Lowdown: The Music of Boz Scaggs. Her previous book on the band America set a high bar for weaving together scholarly research with a vivid narrative, and Jude raises it here as well. In both works, Warne’s dedication to craft is evident—not only in her encyclopedic knowledge but in the way she animates her subjects, turning mere musical timelines into journeys.This conversation is not just about Boz Scaggs—though fans of his smooth soul, blues, and rock-fused catalog will find plenty to savor. It’s about the art of translating music into words, a task that Jude Warne accomplishes with rare skill. Her writing is at once meticulous and alive. She captures the essence of artists without reducing them to caricatures or over-polishing their mythos. As someone who had the joy of being reviewed by Warne—her piece about my album The Show was among the most insightful reflections I’ve read on my work—I can testify to her ability to listen deeply and render that listening into language.In the following interview, we explore Warne’s process, her fascination with Scaggs’ shifting career, and what it means to be a writer about music rather than a musician. Her reflections remind us that while songs speak to the soul, great writing about music helps us understand why. Whether you're a Boz Scaggs devotee or just discovering his work now, Jude Warne will give you a new way to hear him—and maybe, a new way to think about how music becomes memory.

Sons of Silver’s latest release, Runaway Emotions, reflects a band committed to creative collaboration and thematic depth. Fronted by lead vocalist and songwriter Pete Argyropoulos, the group includes seasoned musicians each bringing years of experience across different corners of the rock world. The album builds on their past work with a focus on strong ensemble playing and lyrical content that draws from both personal and social undercurrents.In this interview, bassist Adam Kury (the current bass player with Candlebox) and drummer Marc Slutsky (Adam Ant's touring drummer) share their perspectives on the album’s development and the evolving identity of the band. They discuss their writing process, how the group navigates creative decisions, and what keeps the dynamic productive as they continue to record and release new material. The conversation offers a glimpse into how veteran musicians approach collaboration with both structure and flexibility.While Pete provides the core lyrical vision, the strength of Sons of Silver lies in their ability to operate as a unit—balancing individual voices with a shared musical goal. Runaway Emotions captures that ongoing exchange, translating it into a sound shaped by experience, mutual respect, and an interest in staying true to each band member's artistic vision.

Some of our most profound conversations often happen without words, music becomes the ultimate language — capable of revealing and transforming our perceptions, maybe even challenging them. Today, we're diving into just such a conversation with two artists whose latest musical collaboration speaks volumes: British jazz producer Robert Waite (known professionally as Daylight Robbery) and New York-based pianist Nick Marks. Their new project, Third Island Suite bridges the luminous traditions of Spiritual Jazz, the electric momentum of Fusion, and the lyrical pulse of Hip-Hop, forming a rich and unpredictable dialogue between sound and spirit.Following the success of Daylight Robbery’s 2022 debut Moons of Jupiter (which I spoke to Robert about that year), which garnered over five million streams, this new album pushes Waite even further into uncharted territory. Drawing inspiration from John Fowles' metafictional classic The Magus, Third Island Suite offers more than just a musical experience — it loosely soundtracks a psychological odyssey through illusion, self-discovery, and the playful misdirections of a master trickster. Framed by the striking artwork of Cologne’s Jens Roth, the album finds its home on Melting Pot Music, released both digitally and on vinyl.Today, we have the real joy of speaking with Nick and Rob about how they built this intricate sonic world together — how pianos, beats, imagination, and basslines became tools for storytelling that translate into a complex inner musical journey between two creatives. We'll explore how collaboration became their shared vocabulary and how, through music, they found new ways to communicate truths that words alone could never fully capture.

William Hooker has spent decades making music on his own terms—loud, unflinching, and fully independent. A drummer, composer, poet and more with over 70 recordings as a bandleader, Hooker is a fixture of New York’s experimental underground, shaped by the Loft Jazz scene of the 1970s and carried forward through venues like CBGB, the Knitting Factory, and Roulette. His latest record, Jubilation, recorded live at Roulette in Brooklyn, is another chapter in a career defined by pushing boundaries, building community, and resisting easy categorization. The following conversation with William digs into both the record and the mindset behind it. Hooker speaks plainly about what it means to work outside the mainstream—how playing free jazz often means playing for people who don’t yet know how to hear it. He talks about rehearsal as a way to build trust between musicians, about improvisation as a response to the space you’re in, and about the value of taking creative risks without overthinking them.Throughout our chat, Hooker is generous but direct. He knows what he’s doing and why. He’s not selling a product—he’s sharing a process. There’s no mythologizing here, just decades of work and clarity about what matters. Jubilation isn’t a throwback or a statement piece—it’s just where Hooker is right now, doing what he’s always done: leading from the drums, assembling the right players, and trusting the moment to shape the music. In a city that rarely makes room for artists to grow old and stay weird, Hooker is still here—evolving, documenting, and finding joy in the chaos.

Let’s face it—if the music industry were a spaceship, right now it might be sputtering through the void, looking for a little more rocket fuel. Algorithms are everywhere, attention spans are short, and too often, passion plays second fiddle to data. But every once in a while, someone shows up to remind us of what the industry used to be—wild, inspired, and driven by larger-than-life personalities who weren’t afraid to bet big and be bold.Enter Paul Rappaport, or just “Rap” if you were lucky enough to know him during the golden age of rock. He wasn’t just in the room—he was the one setting the room on fire, bringing the magic of rock ‘n’ roll to life through legendary promotions, wild stunts, and a deep, unshakable belief in the power of music to move people.In his brand-new book, Gliders Over Hollywood (Jawbone Press) Paul tells the untold stories from the trenches of Columbia Records, where he helped shape the careers of icons like Bruce Springsteen, Pink Floyd, Bob Dylan, Judas Priest, Billy Joel, and so many more. This isn’t just a backstage pass; it’s a masterclass in creativity, guts, and the human side of the music business—the kind of stories that might just help us reimagine the future by looking back at what made the past so electric.From sword-fighting with Bruce Dickinson to floating a Pink Floyd airship, Paul’s career reads like a rock novel, but it’s all real—and it’s all heart. And as the industry asks itself what’s next, maybe it’s time to remember how it used to be done. Big ideas, crazy risks, and above all, a love for the music that seemed to make anything possible.

Taking a shot, a risk, a gamble—whether in life, in love, or in art—requires a particular blend of courage, timing, and craft. Few folks understand that better than Eddie Schwartz, the Canadian musician and songwriter whose work has left a lasting imprint on popular music. Best known for penning Pat Benatar’s iconic “Hit Me With Your Best Shot,” Schwartz has built a career on moments when he stepped forward, took creative chances, and delivered songs that struck a chord with millions.After launching his career as a solo artist in the early 1980s with albums like No Refuge and Public Life, Schwartz quickly proved himself as more than a performer—he was a songsmith of rare precision and emotional clarity. His compositions, including “All Our Tomorrows,” “Don’t Shed a Tear” (Paul Carrack), and “The Doctor” (The Doobie Brothers), showcased his ability to blend melodic strength with lyrical insight. Many of his own recordings have since been reimagined by other artists, a testament to the enduring quality of his songwriting. Beyond the studio, Schwartz has also taken bold shots as a producer, music rights advocate, and leader in global music organizations, earning honors including the Order of Canada.My own introduction to Eddie’s music came not through a chart-topping single, but through the serendipity of flipping through records in a thrift store—finding one of his albums on a random shopping trip and being struck by the clarity and heart in his songs. That chance moment became a deeper journey into his catalog and career. Today, he continues to write and release new music, proving that the instinct to take your best shot—to create with purpose and passion—doesn’t fade with time.

Teamwork - as they say - makes the dream work. Over the last several years, Org Music has been quietly amassing a catalog of well-produced reissues and original recordings in all genres. On the reissue front, however, the label has reached its goals by employing a select group of audio specialists all working toward the same goal: to find forgotten music deserving of a second chance to reach an audience, and to approach its restoration with straightforward respect and sincerity.Org Music GM and COO Andrew Rossiter has assembled an A-Team for the most recent batch of reissues that includes mastering engineer, Dave Gardner - who was interviewed here at The Tracking Angle in November of 2023 - and archivist, Catherine Vericolli, who you’ll meet today.Catherine has had much experience within the recording industry as a studio owner, engineer, and educator. Established in 2006, she created Fivethirteen recording studios in Phoenix, Arizona. She also directed the Archival Department at Nashville’s Infrasonic Sound. Catherine has also taught classes related to analog tape machine operations and maintenance at The Conservatory of Recording Arts and Sciences. Currently, she owns and operates Central Audio Archiving also based in Nashville where her archiving and digitization work led her to this current collaboration with Org.The role of audio archivist is a curious one, maybe even a bit mysterious, but - as is the case in many fields - each link of the audio chain is as important as the ones that come before and after it. Roles of the audio archivist may include cataloging and taking inventory of tapes, restoring items that have been damaged over time, digitizing recordings, researching what is available (and discovering what might be missing) and - perhaps, most importantly, overseeing the analog tape transfers. It’s the audio archeology that takes place before final mastering is even discussed.In the interview that follows, Catherine describes the good, the bad, and sometimes ugly world of restoration and how she and Dave forged a strong bond and friendship during their time working - in the field - digging through the Westbound catalog and bringing key parts of it back to life. She also shares some further details and hints about what listeners can expect regarding what might be Westbound’s most revered label members: Funkadelic.Audiophiles love their audio provenance, but how far down the rabbit hole do you really want to go? That all depends on who you are; but if you’re ready for a deep dive into Org Music's Westbound reissues - or, just the reissue field in general - then read on: Catherine’s got the secrets you’ll want to learn.

Time has always been at the heart of electronic music—its steady pulses, mechanical rhythms, and futuristic vision shaped the way we listen and move. Few artists understand this better than Wolfgang Flür. As a member of Kraftwerk during their most defining years, from Autobahn (1974) to Electric Café (1986), he played a role in setting the tempo for an entire musical movement. Decades later, he continues to explore the ever-accelerating relationship between music, technology, and the passage of time.His latest album, TIMES brings this theme to the forefront. A collaboration spanning generations of electronic pioneers and a blend of retro-futuristic elements with contemporary production, TIMES acts as both a reflection on the past and a step into the future—capturing the cyclical nature of electronic music and the way it continues to evolve.Joining us also is Peter Duggal, the producer behind TIMES and a longtime innovator in electronic music. With a career spanning back to the early ‘90s, Duggal has produced for Nintendo, remixed for Island Records, and contributed music to PlayStation VR. His collaboration with Flür began in 2015 and with TIMES, Duggal helps bridge past and future, blending classic electronic textures with modern production techniques.Much like time itself, Flür’s approach to music refuses to stand still. While TIMES acknowledges the nostalgia of classic electronic sounds, it also embraces new ideas, new collaborators, and new sonic landscapes. It’s an album that looks back while moving forward, reminding us that in music—as in life—yesterday, today, and tomorrow are always connected.Join us for an evening with Wolfgang Flür as we explore TIMES, discuss his career, and consider how electronic music continues to tick forward into the future.

Jeannie Piersol, a striking yet enigmatic figure in the 1960s San Francisco music scene, is having her remarkable story told once more through The Nest, a highly anticipated anthology released by High Moon Records. With its unique blend of psychedelic rock, soul, and Indian influences, Piersol's music never fully received the recognition it deserved during her brief career. Yet, her work has long been cherished by those in the know, and The Nest compiles her most sought-after recordings, including rare demos, outtakes, and live performances. The compilation is not just a musical journey but a historical snapshot of the Bay Area’s vibrant 1960s music scene. Piersol’s connections to prominent figures like Grace Slick and the Jefferson Airplane, as well as her collaborations with legendary musicians such as Minnie Riperton and Maurice White, place her squarely in the heart of that creative explosion. Despite the brief duration of her career, Piersol's recordings resonate with an authenticity and intrigue that have only grown over time. Alec Palao, a 5x GRAMMY® Award-nominated producer and curator of The Nest, has worked tirelessly to preserve and present Piersol’s legacy, offering insight into her life and the music that defined it.In this interview, we’re excited to dive into the story behind the music with both Jeannie Piersol and Alec Palao (and with some technical help from Jeannie's son). Jeannie will share her experiences navigating the whirlwind of the 1960s music scene, her collaborations with notable figures, and the path that led her to walk away from it all. Alec will offer a glimpse into the painstaking process of producing The Nest and why these tracks, after all these years, remain as compelling as ever. Join us as we explore the legacy of an artist whose voice and vision are now being recognized as a vital part of rock history.

For nearly a decade, Sleepersound has been more than just a band—it’s been a brotherhood bound by a shared passion for creating immersive, emotionally rich music. Their journey together has been defined by deep friendship and an unspoken understanding that transcends words, allowing their sound to evolve organically. From late-night jam sessions to the meticulous crafting of their third full-length album, My Own Dead Love, the band’s dynamic is built on trust and mutual respect, a foundation that fuels their creativity and sustains their unique sonic identity.Loyalty is at the heart of Sleepersound. In an industry where bands frequently shift members or fall apart, these musicians have remained steadfast, dedicated to both their art and each other. They embrace a fully collaborative songwriting process, where every voice matters and each instrument weaves seamlessly into the fabric of their music. This commitment to one another has allowed them to push artistic boundaries, blending influences from post-rock giants like Mogwai and Radiohead to classical composers like Chopin and Tchaikovsky, all while maintaining a signature sound that is distinctly their own.Above all, Sleepersound is a testament to the brotherhood that forms when musicians create something meaningful together. The bond they share is evident in the way they write, perform, and support each other through the highs and lows of making music. As they prepare to release My Own Dead Love, their connection is stronger than ever, proving that when a band is built on friendship, loyalty, and trust, the music that emerges is as timeless as the relationships that sustain it.

For over three decades, Michael Andrews (aka Elgin Park) has been an integral part of the Greyboy Allstars, a band that has carved out a unique space in the world of funk, jazz, and soul. With their infectious grooves and deep musical chemistry, the group has remained a fixture on the scene, constantly evolving while staying true to their roots. As they prepare to release Grab Bag, a new compilation showcasing the full spectrum of their sound, Andrews reflects on the band’s journey, their creative process, and the art of keeping things fresh after all these years.In this conversation, Andrews shares insights into the band's longevity, emphasizing the importance of mutual respect, individuality, and allowing space for personal growth. He discusses how their collective approach to music—both structured and spontaneous—has kept the Greyboy Allstars together for more than 30 years. We also touch on vinyl and a key detail included in this new release that collectors will no doubt appreciate.Beyond his work with the band, Andrews has built an impressive career as a composer and producer, scoring major films and television projects, including collaborations with Will Ferrell and Seth Rogen. His ability to shift between different musical worlds—from funky jazz guitar to acoustic folk to cinematic compositions—highlights his versatility and passion for storytelling through sound. In this interview, he offers a glimpse into his influences, his approach to composition, and what continues to keep the Greyboys boogalooin' after all these years.