The British jazz band known as the Ezra Collective has been active since 2016, but I only learned about them recently, after they released their critically acclaimed third album – Dance, No One’s Watching – in September 2024.
Actually, I find categorizing them as a jazz band doesn’t describe them very well because I hear such a prominent Afrobeat flavor in their music. They fuse elements of many genres into their musical stew, citing Kendrick Lamar and Robert Glasper as influences.
Take, for instance, “God Gave Me Feet for Dancing” which Barack Obama listed as one of his 25 favorite songs of 2024.
“God Gave Me Feet…” has a vocal assist from London-born singer-songwriter Yazmin Lacey. Ezra Collective drummer and bandleader Femi Koleoso has described his inspiration for the song:
“Myself, (bandmates) Ife, and TJ all grew up in church, and it played a massive role in how we view the purpose of dancing. Dancing is bigger than just the club space. Dancing is a community thing, dancing is a spiritual thing, and ‘God Gave Me Feet for Dancing’ is like a window into that element of Ezra Collective for the five of us. There’s a story in the bible that talks about ‘David dancing before the lord’, and that’s always been something that has inspired me. So, ‘God Gave Me Feet for Dancing’ is meant to look at dancing in a more spiritual capacity, like it’s our God-given ability to shake away the badness of life and dance instead.”
The band won the Mercury Prize in 2023 for their previous album, Where I’m Meant to Be. They were the first jazz band to win that prestigious award.
This weekend marks the 17th anniversary of SotW. When I sent my first post, I never dreamed I would still be doing it all these years later. Thank you for your support.
Randy Newman has grappled with the concept of racism throughout his career, using his signature satirical style to expose its cruelty and hypocrisy.
One of his earliest songs to address the issue was “Sail Away” (1972), written from the perspective of a slave trader enticing Africans with false promises.
Typical of Newman, the song’s irony was lost on some listeners, who mistakenly thought he was mocking the enslaved rather than condemning the practice. The lyrics lay bare the deception used to lure captives:
In America you get food to eat Won’t have to run through the jungle And scuff up your feet You just sing about Jesus and drink wine all day It’s great to be an American
Ain’t no lion or tiger, ain’t no mamba snake Just the sweet watermelon and the buckwheat cake Ev’rybody is as happy as a man can be Climb aboard, little wog, sail away with me
Newman expanded on the theme of racism with Good Old Boys (1974), a concept album that opens with “Rednecks.”
The song was inspired by Newman’s reaction to a Dick Cavett Show interview featuring Georgia’s segregationist governor, Lester Maddox. Maddox, ridiculed by Cavett and the audience, eventually walked off the show. You can watch it here:
While Newman was no fan of Maddox, he saw the hypocrisy in Northern attitudes toward racism. The song begins with a sharp critique of both Maddox and his detractors:
Newman then sketches a stereotypical Southern racist.
We talk real funny down here We drink too much and we laugh too loud We’re too dumb to make it in no Northern town And we’re keepin’ the niggers down
Finally, he exposes Northerners’ hypocrisy.
Now your northern nigger’s a Negro You see he’s got his dignity Down here we’re too ignorant to realize That the North has set the nigger free
Yes he’s free to be put in a cage In Harlem in New York City And he’s free to be put in a cage in the South-Side of Chicago And the West-Side And he’s free to be put in a cage in Hough in Cleveland And he’s free to be put in a cage in East St. Louis And he’s free to be put in a cage in Fillmore in San Francisco And he’s free to be put in a cage in Roxbury in Boston They’re gatherin’ ’em up from miles around Keepin’ the niggers down
The song’s use of the N-word sparked controversy. Today, it is widely accepted that the word should NEVER be used, especially by a white person. However, Harvard Law School professor Randall Kennedy has defended writers who employ the term “to dramatize and condemn racism’s baleful presence.” Newman’s intent aligns with this perspective — his lyrics serve as an indictment, not an endorsement.
Newman continued exploring racism in later works, including Trouble in Paradise (1983).
“Christmas in Cape Town” presents a white South African bigot trying to justify apartheid to an Englishwoman:
This English girl from the North somewhere Is stayin’ with me at my place Drinkin’ up all my beer Talkin’ about the poor niggers all the time It’s a real disgrace, she says I tell her, Darling, don’t talk about things You don’t understand I tell her, Darling, don’t talk about something You don’t know anything about I tell her, Darling, if you don’t like it here Go back to your own miserable country
We’ve come a long way in confronting racism, but there is still plenty of work to be done. Unfortunately, recent attacks on Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives threaten to stall progress rather than advance it.
Elliott Smith was one of the most brilliant songwriters of the 1990s, yet his legacy is too often reduced to just two moments: his 1998 Oscar nomination for Best Original Song for “Miss Misery” from Good Will Hunting, and his tragic death in 2003 at the age of 34 from two stab wounds to the chest.
But Smith’s artistry deserves so much more.
His 1997 album Either/Or is a genuine classic — an album that has only grown in stature over the years. Three of its songs were featured in Good Will Hunting, and it has consistently appeared on “best of” lists, cementing its place in indie rock history. Its accolades speak for themselves:
Pitchfork ranked Either/Or 59th in its list of the 100 Greatest Albums of the 1990s and later placed it at #23 in its Best Albums of the Decade list (2022).
Spin ranked it #48 on its list of the best albums from 1987 to 2012.
Blender named it the 36th greatest indie rock album ever.
NME included it at #149 on their 500 Greatest Albums of All Time list.
Consequence of Sound ranked it #97 among the greatest albums ever made.
Rolling Stone placed it at #216 in the 2020 edition of their 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.
Among its many gems, the album’s closing track, “Say Yes,” stands out as one of Smith’s most optimistic songs.
It was written for his then-girlfriend, Joanna Bolme, but Smith was vague about its origins. “It’s about someone particular, and I almost never do that. I was really in love with someone,” he admitted without identifying the person.
“Say Yes” captures the essence of Smith’s songwriting — short and sweet, honest yet deceptively simple. He even leaves in the sound of himself clearing his throat at the start of the recording, an unfiltered moment that adds to its raw intimacy.
I’m in love with the world Through the eyes of a girl Who’s still around the morning after
This is Elliott Smith at his finest — delicate, deeply personal, and achingly sincere. “Say Yes” is not just a song; it’s a glimpse into the quiet beauty of his genius.
Yesterday marked the 50th anniversary of the performance Keith Jarrett recorded The Köln Concert. Long considered one of the most famous and influential solo jazz records, it almost wasn’t to be.
A concert was booked at Köln Opera House in Cologne, West Germany, by a very young promoter named Vera Brandes, and quickly sold out. Jarrett traveled to the city from Zurich, Switzerland, where he had performed a few days earlier. The trip, by car, was exhausting and Jarrett was fatigued and hungry by the time he reached Germany.
When he arrived at the Opera House he discovered there was a terrible mix up. He had specified that the instrument he would play must be an Imperial Bösendorfer. The venue confirmed that they had one. Instead, he found Bösendorfer baby grand. It was an instrument on hand for rehearsals, was out of tune, and had keys and pedals that stuck or didn’t work at all.
A piano tuner came to the rescue and set to work making the baby grand playable. Jarrett was not initially satisfied and threatened to cancel the gig. But ultimately, he agreed to perform, partly because the concert was scheduled to be recorded and the equipment was already set up and ready to go.
Wikipedia reports that Jarrett “used ostinatos and rolling left-hand rhythmic figures during his performance to give the effect of stronger bass notes, and concentrated his playing in the middle portion of the keyboard.” In 2011, Jarrett told the jazz critic Don Heckman “I was forced to play in what was — at the time — a new way. Somehow I felt I had to bring out whatever qualities this instrument had… my sense was, ‘I have to do this. I’m doing it. I don’t care what the fuck the piano sounds like.’”
Who could have guessed that those horrible circumstances would result in one of the most beloved jazz albums ever, ultimately tallying sales of about 4 million copies, and earning a spot in Robert Dimery’s list of 1001 Albums You Must Hear before You Die.
Today’s SotW post was written by frequent guest contributor and long-time friend, Michael Paquette.
Robert Plant’s solo career has been a bit uneven, but he has always sought fulfillment with his musical efforts and has produced a wide range of material in following that path. His most highly acclaimed work outside of Led Zeppelin is his collaboration with Allison Krauss which resulted in the landmark Americana album Raising Sand (2007). Led Zeppelin was not much of a singles band. Plant’s solo works have not climbed the charts but consistently produced compelling music. Led Zeppelin called it a day after the death of John Bonham in 1980. Many fans felt that the band would reunite with a different drummer. However, that never happened partly because Robert Plant was so engaged in his solo career.
Plant’s second solo release was called The Principle of Moments. Released in 1983, it fits in with the works of many bands that used synths for bold and splashy sounds at that time. But Plant and his bandmates used synths to construct an evocative and more subtle mood. The guitar work on this album by Robbie Blunt conjures up a similar sound to what Mark Knopfler was playing with Dire Straits.
When “Big Log” was released, it snuck into the top 20 in 1983 on the Billboard Hot 100 singles chart, and #6 on Billboard’s Top Tracks. It was Plant’s first solo release to chart. The album would continue to gain recognition and was ultimately certified gold with two other songs that also made the charts.
Plant uses a more restrained vocal on this song cutting loose with some wails as the song progresses. Phil Collins is on the drums. The title appears to be a little suggestive but is just a reference to a log blazing in a fireplace while Plant and Blunt were laying down the track. This song still burns bright when revisited over 40 years later. It is a fine solo work constructed by a leader of one of the all-time greatest bands.
A remastered edition of the album was released in 2007. It included live renditions of two songs from the original release, and an unreleased live version of Plant and Bob Marley performing “Lively Up Yourself” recorded in September 1983.
The Principle of Moments is a fine addition to any record collection that also includes Led Zeppelin material.
In rock and roll history, the name Wayne Perkins isn’t instantly recognizable. Unless, that is, you carefully read the credits in the liner notes of your albums.
Perkins recorded with high-profile artists, including the Rolling Stones, Bob Marley, and Joni Mitchell. He was almost invited to replace Mick Taylor when Taylor left the Stones but was ultimately passed over for their old friend Ron Wood. Yet, before that decision, he laid down remarkable tracks on the Stones’ Black and Blue (1976) album. His playing on “Hand of Fate” is epic!
For Marley, he overdubbed guitar on three tracks on the Catch a Fire (1973) album. (For those who collect vinyl, you may remember this album with the cover that depicted a Zippo lighter that opened at the top!) Perkins’ best contribution is the solo on “Concrete Jungle.”
Joni Mitchell’s breakthrough commercial success Court and Spark (1974) includes some fine guitar playing by Perkins on “Car on a Hill.” It has been said that the song is about an incident where Joni was waiting in vain for her then-boyfriend Jackson Browne to show up because he was out with his new partner Phyllis Majors – who he eventually married. Perkins’ crying guitar adds to the feeling of anxiety that Mitchell’s song conveys.
After discovering Perkins’ role in this set of songs, I’m confident you will agree he deserves recognition not just as a footnote in rock history, but as a pivotal figure in its development.
Looking back on the musical offerings of 2024, one track that stood far above the rest was “Right Back to It” by Waxahatchee featuring MJ Lenderman. Released as an early teaser in January, the song found its permanent home on Tigers Milk, Waxahatchee’s stunning March release that cemented Katie Crutchfield’s place as a songwriter of rare emotional insight.
For the uninitiated, Waxahatchee is both a moniker and a flexible musical identity — a vessel for Crutchfield’s poetic musings, sometimes as a solo troubadour and other times flanked by a full-band ensemble. This fluidity of form mirrors the emotional depth of her music, where vulnerability is as much an instrument as her guitar.
On “Right Back to It,” Crutchfield collaborates with alt-country luminary MJ Lenderman, whose vocal harmony provides a wistful counterpoint to her introspective lyrics. The result is a love song unlike any other — a portrait of enduring affection painted in shades of insecurity and redemption. Crutchfield, in her own words, described the song as an exploration of “the ebb and flow of a longtime love story,” eschewing the saccharine for something more visceral and, ultimately, more relatable.
Musically, “Right Back to It” strikes a rare balance between simplicity and sophistication. Its timeless melody feels as though it has always existed, as if plucked from the ether and given new life in Crutchfield’s hands. The interplay of Crutchfield’s yearning vocals and Lenderman’s understated electric guitar fills ensure the song resonates long after its final notes fade.
In an era where fleeting trends dominate, Waxahatchee offers a welcome reminder that the best music isn’t just heard — it’s felt. And with “Right Back to It,” Katie Crutchfield proves, once again, that she’s a master of making us feel.
“Just Because” is a song first recorded by Nelstone’s Hawaiians in 1929. A few years later, in 1933, it was recorded by The Shelton Brothers. While the songwriting credit is officially attributed to Sydney Robin and Joe and Bob Shelton, some believe Robin wrote the song alone, with the Sheltons later claiming credit after their recording gained attention.
Regardless of its authorship, the song holds a seminal place in rock and roll history. It was recorded at Sun Studios in 1954 but remained unreleased until Elvis Presley included it on his debut RCA album in 1956.
Further cementing its legacy, “Just Because” has been covered by an eclectic mix of artists: twangy guitar maestro Duane Eddy (who passed away in 2024), skiffle enthusiast Paul McCartney, blues devotee Jorma Kaukonen, and rockabilly preservationist Brian Setzer. An especially unique rendition appears on the album Beauty and the Beard (1964), a collaboration between the unlikely duo of the sexy Ann-Margret and New Orleans clarinetist Al Hirt.
Though not a holiday song, the lyrics contain a whimsical twist: the woman being sung to refers to the singer as “Santa Claus.” It’s a humorous and fitting way to close out the year.
I’ve always been intrigued by the ability of an artist to write a song from the perspective of the opposite gender in a way that rings with authenticity. This post will highlight three examples of my favorite songs written by men from the point of view of a woman. In each case, cover versions by female artists are so effective that they underscore how successfully the male writer captured a woman’s voice and experience.
The first is “Angel From Montgomery” by John Prine. The song is from the POV of a Southern woman who feels like an old soul. It opens with these evocative lines:
I am an old woman Named after my mother My old man is another Child that’s grown old
The version by Bonnie Raitt, with her whiskey-soaked vocal, captures the essence of the song in a way that Prine’s original version doesn’t quite achieve. You can feel the desperation in her voice as she wishes to escape a life of drudgery and unfulfilled dreams.
Next is “Millworker” by James Taylor, a poignant song that delves into the anguish of a woman trapped by her circumstances. In “Millworker,” the narrator is a woman working in the mills during the Industrial Revolution. She recounts her struggles and hardships, painting a vivid portrait of resilience and sorrow.
Emmylou Harris’ version is the gold standard. She eloquently conveys the heartache of a woman who married a man who drank himself to death, leaving her to raise three children on her own. To survive, she takes a monotonous job in the mill, her mind drifting back to happier times on the farm where she grew up. The song ends with an overwhelming sense of sadness and regret.
Yes, but it’s my life has been wasted, and I have been the fool To let this manufacturer use my body for a tool I can ride home in the evening, staring at my hands Swearing by my sorrow that a young girl ought to stand a better chance
Finally, since it’s Christmas week, I have to include “Christmas Card from a Hooker in Minneapolis” by Tom Waits. The narrator, a woman, writes a letter to a man named Charlie, and through her words, Waits delivers some of his most vivid and poignant storytelling. The song is written in a Beat prose style, weaving a tale of a pitiful life with an unexpected twist at the end.
Neko Case (of The New Pornographers) recorded a version that stands out, though I can’t say it’s better than Waits’ original. With a simple church organ accompaniment, Case’s rendition spins the tale with raw vulnerability and haunting clarity.
While there are many more examples of songs written by men from a woman’s point of view, few match the emotional power of the three I’ve featured today. These songs not only demonstrate the skill of their writers but also the ability of cover artists to bring fresh, profound interpretations to the material.
Father John Misty (aka Josh Tillman) released his sixth album under that moniker in 2024. Its title, Mahāśmaśāna, is a Sanskrit word meaning “great cremation ground,” perfect subject matter for a pop album! Catch the sarcasm?
The lead track, and title song, is a 9-minute epic, both musically and lyrically – drawing comparisons to George Harrison’s “All Things Must Pass.”
A rolling drum intro introduces sweeping strings, keyboards, and strings. By the 7:30 mark, a saxophone joins the wall of sound, along with screeching strings, that bring the song to a soaring climax.
FJM’s vision is bleak — he imagines a post-apocalyptic world left with no trace of life.
Mahashmashana, all is silent now And in the next universal dawn Won’t have to do the corpse dance, do the corpse dance Do the corpse dance with these on
However, in an interview with Scott Simon of NPR, FJM offered a different perspective on the song. “Well, that ‘Mahāśmaśāna’ song I really think of as being a love story. But this corporal form, you know, it just – the body wins every time. And love is kind of the foot soldier of that destruction – sounds like a hit.”
The album has received critical praise, placing 49th on Paste’s list of the 100 Best Albums of 2024.
