Daniel Johnston

"Don't be sad/I know you will"

Even though my general disdain for social media is constantly focused, it shouldn't deter me from keeping up with musical news. Too often I'm buried under my rock - alone in my little corner of the world - that I lose sight of so much. A couple of Sundays ago seeing bits and pieces of the grammys despicable show, their "in memoriam" feature slapped me with the realization that Daniel Johnston passed away last September. He, too, loved to live beneath his shell, burrowed in the hallows of his spiraling thoughts. At least he crafted honest gripping music with all of that desolate time.

I think they called his brand outsider music but I first heard of Johnston while attending ACL in 2008. The festival's official poster was created by Johnston and I was intrigued to listen to more from this curious artist. He was even there for a brief period signing posters but ignorant on his music and mired in a high frenzy of festival hysteria (read: weak excuses) I didnt get his signature on it.

For me, I really enjoy the innocent rawlike qualities to his music. I gravitate towards that type of pensive, longing style and Johnston's lyrics were beyond poignant -- his recordings always had the ability to have me shedding tears. His world was broken but he was sincerely yearning to spread peace and love through his humble soul. Outsider for life.

Mingus Ah Um

Charles Mingus never wanted his music to be classified as jazz or classical music. To him it wasn't a fusion either; rather, Mingus believed an organic, kinetic way of creating music was the only way for him. Mingus would offer rough sketches of what a piece's mood was, and the vibe, but he purposely worked with musicians that could both breathe in his world/vision and add special enhancements to the atmosphere/overall product.

The saxophone on this piece is evocative and chilling; it's fitting that Mingus allows it to be the centerpiece of the composition. Reflecting on a friend who passed away before he could record it, the mood is definitely forlorn. The way the tenors contrast and compliment each other is beautifully deliberate; I love how they sort of melt into each other for the last couple of minutes until the bellowing last note: gorgeous dissonance.

That same kind of dissonance is all over the place on "Fables of Faubus." This would later feature lyrics and be one of Mingus' most political songs but on this album it's entirely instrumental. The call and response is between the sax and the horn section and Mingus allows the improvisation (sax to piano back to sax then to bass) to be elaborated. This is still one of my favorite albums just because of how heady and moody all of it plays out in my brain. It came out in 1959 too, its damn old and still sounds vibrant as ever.

Episode 003

Welcome GENIUS HEADS to episode 003 of the Midnight Genius Hour! We delve into fresh new music, a special shout out to a classic, talk about blog and go hard into current events, sports and as usual, life-affirming conversation!

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Lastly, if you dont know me dont ask me

Mwandishi was where Herbie Hancock was starting to really gather steam as a prominent figure in the world of jazz. Released in the early 1970s the 3-piece album is 44 minutes of superb free jazz. But it's also noteworthy for me because Hancock got to really explore his depths as a composer within the album's 3 songs. Opening with "Ostinato (Suite for Angela)" the music gradually builds into a freeform improv and Hancock doesn't shy away with a 15/8 meter that is simply all over the place. The song sounds like a pot of hot water that is tipping over every five seconds, while the lid skips and shake as it tries to hold the contents from spilling over. A sax bookends the track and I really love the way each instrument is allowed to convey the melody around scaling improvisation.



The second side of this record features the entire closing song, "Wandering Spirit Song." For 20 minutes Hancock gets to explore tension and release. He starts it with what sounds like flickering lights and he adds layers of instruments and sounds so that the music can build and build. Here Hancock is delving into more avant-garde classical music than jazz but for me, thats the beauty of jazz. Hancock needed talented jazz musicians to flesh out his music and the sounds crescendo, the winds release the tension with beautiful long, swelling notes. He got his chance to play with the meter earlier and now he's perfected the wanderer in all of us.



It's what jazz is all about: taking it all in for the experience. And being mind-blown afterwards because of how ahead of its time it really was/still is. If you're still wondering what the title of this post means then you need to hear episode two of THE MIDNIGHT GENIUS HOUR asap. Episode 3 is on the way...

PODCAST 2 - The teens and beyond

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The Midnight Genius Hour

Misunderstood Dreamers

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Radiohead - Kid A (Ballads)

It’s been too long. Maybe certain things had to end. I like to think that it means other things could begin. I remember the days when writing used to be my near driving force on a day-to-day basis. Now I feel I’ve been looking for other things and yet, I still come back to it. But maybe it has to feel like a real investment of time, rather than a laboring task. I wrote a poem almost a month ago but it wasn’t anything legit: raw, unfiltered, jagged, jaded. And actually, it (writing) is about the music and having fun with it. Still, I don’t feel like I need to burden any more heady writing about it all here; if you stay past this paragraph then here’s to more posts, soon.

I remember being home, after school, in my room blasting this entire album. I vividly remember the moment when “How to Disappear Completely” moved me and how I felt so immediately entrenched in the moment. There I was, standing in the middle of the room with the speakers directly in front of me – singing along, as loud as I could (people may or may not have been home i.e. it didn’t matter) – and how amazing that felt. Music nerd in all of us, it’s one of those musical moments that will always be locked in. After the first three songs of this intense (yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon) album, the entire band decides to hop into the backseat for a drifting, string-laden, epic ride. There are still explosions, they just build, they stir and they grow before unloading. Throw in the blistering vocals, sweetly solemn at the beginning and grippingly forceful as it all develops – perfection in song crafting if there ever was such a thing.


I’ve been running a lot the past two months. I was fortunate enough to go to ACL in October (made in more ways than one possible by my sweet love) and after recovering from it I took to the new routes near our place. Kid A deserves its own post so this is just about the two killer ballads. Two stellar songs that are rightly in my top TEN songs by Radiohead (which I imagine would be some kind of monster list) and they are also not the most likely options. The last one, “Motion Picture Soundtrack” is what sounds most to me like vintage Radiohead but sparkling and utterly devastating. I love the bareness of the beginning and the vast hugeness of the ending and how it’s contrasting against Thom Yorke’s bitter, unapologetic lyrics about fake love in the movies. It isn’t a moment to be celebrating but the stark sadness that prevails is some kind of magic. Obviously for most diehards, it’s the pouring music and how it reigns over everything when suddenly, it just all goes away. The extreme emotion is beautiful – and now, once again, enclosed in a new room I can enjoy the music all over. Same as it ever was. - Bryan