Weeknotes: November 3–7, 2025
Monday, November 3
It's hard sometimes to play fast, but we are a rhythmic species — if you practice enough, a fast part usually comes together nicely, at least in my experience. I think it's much tougher to play slowly. When there is more space between the beats, you have nowhere to hide — each note carries more weight and a whole menu of nuance opens up.
I've been trying to make some music that is very minimalist with few elements and plenty of negative space. The piece I'm working on is for two fingerpicked guitars, one playing a repeated chord pattern at a relaxed tempo and the other playing a very deliberate single note lead melody. More often than not, this is the kind of music I listen to around the house: sparse Nordic jazz records from ECM, solo acoustic guitar albums, ambient synth music, etc.
Most of the music I've released has been densely-arranged songwriter pop with clever arrangements, layered harmonies, and lots of percussion. I will make more of that, but I also want to challenge myself to see if I can scale down and still keep it interesting. It's making me a better, or at least a more thoughtful guitarist. Because there are no vocals and just one or two instruments, I'm thinking very hard about every note and asking questions like:
What part of my finger yields the best tone for this note?
If I can't finish this part today, will my fingernails be too long and sound slightly different tomorrow?
How long should I let these overtones ring?
Do I slide up to this note or hit it dead on?
A bit of vibrato heading into the rest?
Tuesday, November 4
12 years ago today I started my career as a music writer for the company then called Rovi. Prior to that I had spent almost my entire working life at a stringed instrument retailer, first learning the ins and outs of customer service, then training in the production shop as a violin technician. If you rented or bought a budget or mid-level violin from Shar Music in the 2000s, there's a good chance I set it up. My increasingly niche trade skills such as carving violin bridges, shaping pegs, and fitting soundposts had little value in the job market outside of luthiery or instrument repair.
In the fall of 2013 I was at an impasse — my band had collapsed, leaving our third album unfinished, and the solo record I’d released two years earlier hadn't really advanced my music career. I'd been working at Shar for 16 years with little ambition outside of making a basic living so I could make albums. When a coveted pop editor position came up at Rovi, I focused all my energy on trying to land it. The only music writing I'd done up until that point was a handful of reviews for my high school newspaper and all the promotional copy for my own releases. But, I knew I could write well, and more importantly, I'd been obsessively collecting records since I was a kid. I'd clerked at three different record stores and could speak the language. I also had an in — my own brother worked there.
After two rounds of interviews and a some test writing, I made the cut and at the end of October packed up my woodworking tools to start a new career in a completely different sector of the music industry. There was a brief orientation period followed by a couple softball reissue assignments to help me get my sea legs. Here is the opening salvo from one of my very first published reviews of a Badfinger compilation:
The saga of British rockers Badfinger is a harrowing tale rife with drama, disappointment, and ultimately tragedy. It's amazing, then, that they were able to produce some of the most focused and buoyant power pop of the 1970s.
I may have laid it on a little thick, but it was my first week. The rest of the review isn't too bad. I'm quite proud of those early pieces and have gone on to publish thousands more over the past 12 years. November is a fun time because we begin working on our year-end lists and revisiting all the great albums that came out during the past calendar year. I'll post about some of my own favorites next month.
Wednesday, November 5
Three Highlights (Ypsilanti):
Esteban reaching his little black paw up to my desk to say hello.
An apple fritter from DJ's Bakery, devoured with gusto in the car with good coffee.
My shadow running beside me along a wall at sunset.
Thursday, November 6
I'm back to more frequent radio listening in the morning — usually my local NPR affiliate WEMU-FM, which also plays jazz and blues, or the larger talk-only Michigan Public. Despite the encouraging wins in this week's election, it's still a lot of bad news. Music is preferable.
A few days after the 2024 election, I took a hiatus from news radio. It was just too depressing. On a whim, I started listening to my vinyl collection in alphabetical order. It began with Mind Palace Music by the Baltimore duo @. I didn't really think I'd go through the whole collection, but at the time it was a nice distraction and it carried me through the holidays and into this year. I averaged a few records per day, sometimes actively listening, but more often just letting them play in the house while I worked. I rediscovered some favorites, jettisoned quite a few, and wore out my stylus which I finally replaced a couple months ago.
I'm habitual by nature, so a part of me enjoyed removing choice from the equation.
What am I going to listen to today?
Whatever is next in the queue.
Plus, I do so much listening for work and continued to stream whatever I wanted or play my CDs when I needed a break from the project.
The entire adventure lasted almost a year and ended on October 31, just one week shy of when I started. Warren Zevon's Excitable Boy was my finale. I didn't count, but I think it was a little over 800 LPs.
Friday, November 7
Three Highlights (Grand Rapids):
A vinyl copy of Discovery Zone's Quantum Web discovered in the wild — JJ Weihl's meticulous list of gear on the inner sleeve (Casios galore!).
A hand-pulled pint of cask ESB — so hard to find in the U.S. — just when you really need it.
The people you meet through the fellowship of gigging and the satisfaction of a well-played set.
* Demerit to the hit-and-run driver who violently rear-ended the minivan behind me, which in turn rear-ended me. I gave chase on foot as the dark Dodge SUV sped away, catching only part of its plate number which I dutifully reported to the emergency dispatch. Myself, along with the minivan driver and her three kids all survived with only mild whiplash. Many thanks to the good samaritan neighbor who hurried out to support us and to the quick and efficient GRPD officers.