Weeknotes: Rarities & B-Sides, Vol. 1
Early in the week, I fell behind and never caught back up. That’s okay — it’s a busy time of year. In lieu of this week’s notes, I’ve assembled a small anthology of unpublished pieces from previously-abandoned weeks. There are a couple from 2024 which revisit both the Paris Olympics and the run-up to the election, as well as a post from a few months ago, just before school started. I’ve also added my contribution to an All Music feature in which my fellow pop editors and I discuss classic albums we wish we’d heard sooner. Lastly, there are a few stray observations from the past week. It’s nice to break format every now and then. Enjoy the odds and sods!
November 4, 2024
Disruption will likely be the theme of this fraught week. Upstairs in apartment two, a crew is deep cleaning for the incoming tenant. Down here, our handyman has solicited his shy uncle for advice on replacing my shower walls. The uncle arrives on his own in a gold minivan and sits quietly in the driveway until his nephew arrives.
Through the bathroom wall, I hear their soft murmurs and find it comforting. I work at my desk, trying to keep Islay occupied while they're in there. After they go, I walk into the bathroom and it smells like an old motel: a whiff of cheap cologne and cigarette smoke. Also, strangely comforting. In my notebook, I write "Tomorrow will of course be scary. It's okay to buy yourself a treat."
*This was the day before the 2024 election.
August 26, 2025
Back to school on a crisp blue morning, just like when I was young. Except my first class is online. I haven't tried one of these yet — will I have the self discipline to keep up?
I took an introductory geology class in the spring of 1996, during my first attempt at college. The only thing I remember about it was accidentally sleeping through the final exam. I might have passed by the skin of my teeth, but the results weren't good enough to transfer, so I'm having another go at it.
Geology of the National Parks and Monuments seems like an appealing option to satisfy my Natural Science requirement. Maybe the vast indifference of geologic time will put contemporary woes into perspective.
* That last sentence rang very true. Also, I got an A in this class.
Monday, August 5, 2024
Before bed, I watch some Olympic Games coverage from Paris. The women's 800M race is won handily by British runner Keely Hodgkinson. I think of my own bad run earlier in the day — these athletes look so impossibly strong out on the track. The coverage switches to the women's gymnastics floor final. Simone Biles, though brilliant, goes out of bounds twice and comes up just short behind Brazilian Rebeca Andrade.
At first, the bronze medal goes to an 18-year-old Romanian named Ana Bărbosu who seems elated to make the podium. Suddenly, the U.S. team makes some sort of inquiry, and the scores are altered to put Jordan Chiles in bronze position. The last thing I see before I turn off the TV is Bărbosu crying uncontrollably and being led out of the arena, dreams shattered. It's rough. To compound the mood, I finish the last two chapters of John le Carré's The Spy Who Came in From the Cold which are bleak as hell. I have to start a new book before bed just to cleanse my palate from all the heartbreak.
* The controversy continued after the event. Chiles was ultimately stripped of the bronze medal and it was reallocated to Bărbosu.
Excerpt from All Music’s Late To the Party - Albums You Wish You'd Discovered Earlier:
In 2004, I released my very earnest debut solo album which was heavily inspired by the lush pop arrangements of Brian Wilson, the Zombies, and the Left Banke. I was in my mid-20s and worked part-time at a hip record store — I thought I knew most of the landmark '60s chamber pop albums. A reviewer from a now-defunct Detroit weekly rag suggested that my album owed a great debt to the Bee Gees' Odessa.
When I read this, I was a little embarrassed that I'd never even heard the Gibbs' 1969 opus. I promptly bought the newly-reissued CD (in a red velvet clamshell box, of course) and had my mind blown. The Bee Gees, as presented to me in my youth, were the hairy-chested polyester knights of the discotheque who sang "Stayin' Alive" and "Jive Talkin'." They were frozen in the amber of the era that made them famous. I knew they'd originally come up in the '60s, but had never bothered to investigate their origin story. As I worked backwards from Odessa, I learned the truth — the Bee Gees were genius pop chameleons, perhaps a bit too earnest (like myself), but capable of brilliance. Those early records are now some of my favorites, but Odessa is the pillar of their '60s ambitions. - Timothy Monger
OBSERVATIONS:
I revisit my copy of Russell Davies’ Do Interesting book and am surprised to find contributor Denise Wilton’s signature on the title page. Her Walknotes blog is a treasure and inspired me to start my own.
A maple leaf, browned and buckled, somehow made its way onto my dashboard and has been riding along with me all week.
Field Notes’ Winter 2025 limited edition series honors the unique design of the Armed Services Editions, a national publishing effort made during World War II to provide soldiers with books they could fit into the pockets of their uniforms. I read about this a few years ago in Molly Guptill Manning’s wonderful When Books Went To War.
Avery Trufelman’s new series is a fascinating deep dive into the origin or military clothing and the outdoor gear industry. Her entire Articles of Interest podcast is well worth a listen.
There are 12 streetlamps along the Frog Island footpath.