March 7, 2025

Friday Audio Notes

Today’s listening session was much needed. My graduate courses began this week, and while the start was pretty smooth (so far), it’s been a lot for me work. Today was busy, too, but I’m happy that I was able to get a couple of hours of audio therapy in to start off the weekend. I’m likely going to be working through the weekend, but that’s OK.

While listening today, I discovered that the system sounds best when I’m sitting up tall in the chair: the soundstage is improved. I knew that before getting the O/96es, but it’s true: the tweeters should be lower than my ears, so I can see the tops of the speakers. Good to know.

Playlist: 03/07/25

My standout song—the one that sounded the best, clear, with a huge soundstage extending beyond the speakers, was Talking Heads’ “(Nothing But) Flowers.” The percussion, multiple guitars, and voices were all distinctly placed on a dark background; it’s an ironic dystopian satire wrapped in a buoyant, Afro-pop-inspired groove. Beneath the wit, there’s a deeper reflection on human nature—our tendency to romanticize the past while remaining deeply attached to the comforts of the present. The song ultimately asks: do we actually want the paradise we claim to seek, or are we just as dependent on the structures we criticize? The song flips the usual critique of industrialization on its head, presenting a world where nature has reclaimed everything—parking lots have turned into cornfields, highways into rivers, and fast-food chains into idyllic meadows. Yet, instead of celebrating this supposed environmental utopia, the song’s narrator mourns the loss of modern conveniences: “This was a Pizza Hut / Now it’s all covered with daisies.”

While not as big, “Don’t Worry About the Government” immediately followed, but sounded great—a bit more minimal and analog. Thematically, these two songs can be seen as two sides of the same satirical coin, both dealing with the intersection of modernity, urban development, and human complacency—but from opposite angles. “Don’t Worry About the Government” presents an almost childlike faith in the structures of modern life, with David Byrne delivering an eerily cheerful ode to bureaucracy, high-rise buildings, and the comforts of state-planned infrastructure. The song’s narrator delights in his apartment, the government’s efficiency, and the promise of a well-organized, mechanical society. The song’s deadpan optimism borders on the absurd, exposing a dystopian undercurrent: is this genuine contentment or blind submission to a system that reduces life to neatly planned conveniences? Taken together, these songs form a conversation about humanity’s complex relationship with progress, nostalgia, and the environments we build (and destroy) for ourselves. Whether we embrace or reject the modern world, Talking Heads remind us that we’re always longing for something else.

Keeping the unplanned dystopian theme alive was Brian Eno and Bryne’s collaboration from the eighties in “America Is Waiting”—adding another dimension to the critique of modern life. Built on found sound and pulsing, fractured rhythms, “America Is Waiting” eschews traditional song structures in favor of a chaotic, sample-driven soundscape. The track’s primary vocal is a looped snippet from a radio broadcast—an agitated voice ranting about how “America is waiting for a message of some sort or another.” Unlike the polished, ironic cheerfulness of “Don’t Worry About the Government” or the wistful humor of “(Nothing But) Flowers,” this song is pure anxiety. It reflects a world where media saturation, political rhetoric, and economic instability create a constant state of agitation. The message never arrives, but the waiting never stops. It also sounded damn good.

Other standout tracks were “Last Chance to Dance Trance” by Medeski, Martin & Wood, “Riveria Paradise” by Stevie Ray Vaughn (long-time favorite along with SRV’s “Tin Pan Alley”), “Textures” by Herbie Hancock, and “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel. Interestingly, the latter, while it sounds good, has a distinctly eighties quality to it: a bit digital, I guess. MMW’s “Dance Trance” is a hypnotic, groove-heavy track that embodies their signature blend of jazz, funk, and avant-garde experimentation. The song unfolds like a slow-burning ritual, driven by Chris Wood’s deep, loping bassline and Billy Martin’s laid-back yet intricate drumming. They were distinctly placed in the soundstage: the drums were centered, while the bass was stage-right. I could hear each cymbal hit and bass slap—beautiful! John Medeski’s keyboard work is the real centerpiece, however—his distorted, wobbly organ lines swirl and mutate, creating an eerie, psychedelic texture. This was the first song I heard by MMW back in the nineties that got me hooked on this funky trio. I wish I could say that John Scofield’s “A Go Go” was as good—it sounded great, but the instrumentation was not was clear on the soundstage as “Dance Trance.” I guess this makes sense, since this is Scofield’s album, and his guitar was front-and-center.

Handcock’s “Textures” is an atmospheric, almost ambient piece that showcases Herbie Hancock’s ability to sculpt soundscapes rather than just melodies or grooves. While Mr. Hands (1980) as a whole covers a range of styles—funk, fusion, and straight-ahead jazz—“Textures” stands out as a meditative, synth-driven interlude. Built on lush synthesizers and pulsing electronic rhythms, the track is less about traditional jazz improvisation and more about mood and space. It’s such a cool song and reminds me of Nicholas Godin’s more contemporary work (cf. “What Makes Me Think About You” off of Concrete and Glass).

Lee Morgan’s “Sidewinder” has been a test track for me for a while, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard it sound so good! At its core, “The Sidewinder” is built on a hypnotic, repetitive bassline (courtesy of Bob Cranshaw) that locks the tune into a deep pocket. Billy Higgins’ drumming keeps the momentum steady but swinging, while Barry Harris’ piano comps with effortless cool. Morgan’s trumpet lead (distinctly stage right) is bold and bluesy, riding the groove with an assertive swagger. Joe Henderson, on tenor sax stage left, follows with a solo that’s both lyrical and biting, showing why he was one of the most distinctive voices in hard bop. I think what makes “The Sidewinder” special is its accessibility. The groove is undeniable (I found myself humming it on the drive home), and even people who don’t normally listen to jazz can feel its infectious rhythm. It straddles the line between sophisticated post-bop improvisation and raw, danceable soul-jazz, making it a perfect example of how jazz was evolving toward more groove-oriented playing. Ultimately, “The Sidewinder” is one of those tracks that just feels good—it’s cool, it’s bluesy, and it swings hard. And the recording is crisp and clear with a distinct soundstage, like I was sitting in the jazz club right up front.

OK, these notes are getting long again. Worth mentioning are the songs I started the session with, but did not have high expectations for: Jimmy Page’s “Blues Anthem” off of his 1988 Outrider and Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman, Howe’s “Quartet” off of their self-titled 1989 release. I love Bothe of these songs, but never really thought them worthy of a good system. Yet, Page’s acoustic guitar begins by filling the soundstage with echoes and reverberations, but it was Chris Farlowe’s entrance that melted away my tension and inspired my first smile of the session. I love Outrider and have since it came out. It reminds me of my year living in Cincinnati, and hearing it always brings back pleasant and painful memories from my time there. An orchestra-supported ballad, “Blues Anthem” continues Page’s exploration of traditional blues themes, complemented by Farlowe’s emotive vocal delivery. The song’s romantic lyrics and expressive instrumentation contribute to its appeal for me: I was listening to a lot of sappy music in the eighties.

Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman, Howe is another album I was listening to at the time, and I like “Quartet” for similar reasons as “Blues Anthem”: is lush and romantic. The “orchestra” is all Rick Wakeman, and the song sound more like classic Yes than Yes’ eighties releases. “Quartet” is a four-part suite, a hallmark of Yes’ approach to composition, though it leans toward a more pastoral, melodic sensibility. The synthesized trumpet in the second movement was the best I had ever heard. I just wish the soundstage were a bit better, though how would an engineer place a synthetic orchestra?

Jethro Tull’s “Bourée” sounds much better than I thought it would: Anderson’s flute flitted around the soundstage, like the jester in motley of Tull’s live shows. So many more to mention, but I need to stop here. Let me end by stating that I will be seeking out more of Doug MacLeod’s work, too. Later.

Reference Audio System (02/2025)
Rogue Audio Cronus Magnum III Stereo Tube Integrated Amplifier • Gold Note DS-10 Plus DAC • Gold Note PSU-10 EVO Power Supply • DeVore Fidelity O/96 Speakers • REL T/9x 10" SE Powered Subwoofer (Racing Red) • PS Audio Duet Power Center • Morrow MA3 Interconnects • Tellurium Q Black II Speaker Cable