International Women’s Day Celebration at Hotel Café, 3-8-25

Leeann Skoda

At a time when we absolutely should have a female president, this country ought to be doing everything possible to celebrate and honor women. But what is happening on the national level is the destruction of women’s rights. All those important steps forward we as a nation (and as a species) make seem to be so easily erased by the worst among us. Nothing can be taken for granted, nothing can be accepted as a given. It’s difficult to keep from becoming pessimistic when looking at the news, at the state of this sad nation, at the terrible people within its borders who eagerly embrace fascism. Yet I become incredibly optimistic when I am out catching live music, for it is in music venues that we experience the better parts of humanity. Yesterday was International Women’s Day, and for the third consecutive year, a special celebration of female artists was held at the Hotel Café’s Second Stage, a nice, intimate room in the heart of Hollywood (yes, Hollywood does have a heart). It was just the thing we needed to remind us that there are good people still in this country. The slogan for this year’s International Women’s Day was “Accelerate Action,” which seemed apt, for now it’s not only about making some progress, but regaining the ground that was lost. No, not lost, but stolen.

Mykel

 

This year’s lineup was particularly good, and included a couple of my favorite performers from last year’s concert. Though these are serious times, the overall vibe of the night was positive, even cheerful, which is what folks need. Helping to set that tone was the evening’s MC, Gena B. Jones, who started the show at 6:45 p.m. with some standup comedy. She hosted the previous two years as well. She then introduced Mykel, who performed her set solo on keyboard. She played songs from an upcoming EP release. Her first song, “Brace For Impact,” was about a car accident. “Never been this fragile/I’m used to being brave.” Mykel delivered a gorgeous, moving and powerful vocal performance. She followed that with “How Do You Know,” a song that mentions the 405 freeway early on. An artist can count on connecting with any Los Angeles audience by mentioning an experience on that road. She concluded her set with “Hometown Runaway,” the title track from the EP. That EP is going to be out by the end of the year, but there is no date set yet. It’s a release I’m looking forward to adding to my collection.

Gena B. Jones introducing Leeann Skoda

Leeann Skoda was one of my favorite performers last year, and was one of the main draws for me this year. She performed her set solo on acoustic guitar. She opened her set with a beautiful song that had a bit of a Patty Griffin vibe. She followed that with a song she wrote in memory of her grandmother, who, as she mentioned, was the first person in her life to listen to her opinions. “She’s just the same as she used to be/Remember me.” This song too was beautiful, and had me at the edge of tears, as memories of my own rushed in, in great contrast to the present. Leeann Skoda mentioned that she has an album that she recorded but has yet to release, so that’s another disc for us to look forward to. She has, however, released a song from it, “Easy,” and it is that song that she chose to close her set. Vocalist Alex Beck followed, backed by a guitarist. She began with “All The Wrong Places,” in which she sings “I keep looking for gold in all the wrong places/I keep looking for someone to say I was worth chasing.” Her mom was in the audience, and Alex mentioned that she’s lucky to have her on this journey, which was sweet. There was something wonderfully innocent about Alex Beck, and you could see it especially in the adorable smile she had at the end of each of her songs. She wrapped up her set with “Dirty Jokes,” a song that will be on her debut EP, which is coming out at the end of the month. Yes, there is a lot of good music coming out.

Alex Beck

Maybellene Ryder

Maybellene Ryder, taking the name from the Chuck Berry song, was up next. Kiana Keane was on acoustic guitar, supported by Benny on electric guitar. On the first song, Kiana’s guitar went out of tune, and she fixed it during the song. Then afterward she worked to get it sounding even better, telling the crowd, “Some people can talk and do this at the same time, but I can’t.” She added, “One day I’ll have a guitar tech.” She then played “Long Way Home,” a seriously cool song. Each of the performers had mentioned International Women’s Day, of course, but Kiana went a bit further, saying, “I made a vow that I’m not wearing a dress until women get their rights back.” What’s baffling to me is that a lot of women voted to have their own rights taken away. Why would any woman vote for Republican candidates? People are deranged. Maybellene Ryder’s final song, which I believe is titled “Canadian Army,” began in a bluesy realm, and then kicked in to become a fun number, featuring some nice work on electric guitar. Gena B. Jones delivered another short set of comedy, and then introduced Yoyoka Soma, a young drummer (she and her bandmates were so young that they couldn’t hang out in the bar to catch the other acts). You probably saw that video of her drumming to Led Zeppelin’s “Good Times, Bad Times,” when she was just eight years old. Now fifteen, she is even better. She and her band played a couple of original numbers, “Girlfriend” (which was a delicious rock song) and “Glue,” and then closed out their set with a good cover of The Breeders’ “Cannonball.” It was a fun set, and then they had to leave the room again.

Yoyoka

 

Ryann Barnes

Ryann Barnes had a full band backing her, including guitar, bass, drums and backing vocals. But it was her vocal work that really stood out. Her set included “Ava Drinks A Bud Light,” “Falling Behind” and “Good In You.” In introducing “Falling Behind,” she told the crowd, “It’s about going back to those people you shouldn’t go back to.” It’s a wonderful song, reminding us how good pop music can be. “Good In You” is a new song, inspired by those Dolly Parton billboards that say “Find the good in everybody.” There is one of those billboards near me in North Hollywood, and when I’ve been stuck at a red light that goes on a little longer than it should I’ve thought about those words. “But even after all/I still choose the good in you,” Ryann sings here. Hannah Avison was up next. She was another performer that stood out last year, and I was thrilled to get to see her again. Last time she was accompanied by Kalie Shorr, and this time she had Sam Bierman supporting her on keyboard. She played songs from her solo releases, and songs from her Iris IRS project, including “Molecules,” in which she sings “I hope my molecules find your molecules.” This song really grabbed me, in part because I’ve been thinking about death a lot lately. It is a beautiful song. She also played “Drug.” “I take you every weekend/But you’re out of my system by Monday morning.” She wrapped up her set with “Monster,” a song about anxiety, acknowledging in the song’s introduction that everyone in L.A. feels some anxiety. She got the audience involved in this one, having folks respond, “My body’s making me a monster.” The night’s final performer was Kia, who was supported by Carmichael Castaños on acoustic guitar, and by Bruno Cunha on keyboard. She kicked off her set with a good soulful pop song, “Okay, Alright,” which had a jazzy aspect to some of the guitar work. Her next song featured some nice stuff on keys, and then “Bygones” had some great guitar work. But it was her vocal work that was captivating. She wrapped up her set with “Somebody Real,” which was a fun number with a catchy groove. The show ended at 10:09 p.m. It was a great night celebrating the power and talent of women.

Hannah Avison

Kia

 

Sleepersound: “My Own Dead Love” (2025) Vinyl Review

Sleepersound formed in Milwaukee in that strange, twisted year of 2016, the year that left us with a moronic, whiny ex-gameshow host in charge of the country. It was a year that signaled the beginning of this nation’s alarming and witless descent into fascism. That year also took many great musicians from us (Leonard Cohen, David Bowie, Leon Russell, Prince, Merle Haggard, Keith Emerson, Greg Lake, Rob Wasserman, Dan Hicks, Ralph Stanley, Guy Clark, Paul Kantner, Maurice White and so on). It was a time when things did not seem quite real, or perhaps a time when we refused to believe these things could be real. Things that were once familiar were then unrecognizable, even people we had known had transformed into monsters. And many of us turned inward as a result. Enter Sleepersound. Even the band’s name has an interesting dreamlike sense, but not that of a quiet dream, not that of a passive dream. There is both beauty and darkness to the band’s sound. The band released its first full-length album, In Medias Res, in 2018, and followed that with Idle Voices in 2021. Now these guys have an excellent new record out. Titled My Own Dead Love, it features all original material. The band on this album is made up of Dave D’Antonio, Mike Campise, Kenny Buesing and Dan Niedziejko. And the album is presented on a clear sea green vinyl that, for one reason or another, puts me in mind of Prospero and Ariel, and these lines: “These our actors,/As I foretold you, were all spirits and/Are melted into air, into thin air;/And like the baseless fabric of this vision,/The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,/The solemn temples, the great globe itself,/Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve/And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,/Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff/As dreams are made on, and our little life/Is rounded with a sleep.”

Side A

The album’s opening track, “Let’s Play Wolves,” begins with some gentle guitar work, sounding almost like a lullaby, in that comforting way. “Tell yourself whatever you need to survive/Even if it’s a lie.” Those are lines that give me pause, something to think about. Is it good advice? I hate dishonesty, but if it’s a matter of self-preservation, and the lie is just to yourself, then the harm can’t be much. I suppose there are all manners of lies we tell ourselves to get through a day, to get through an ordeal. We promise ourselves things will get better, without having any idea if they will. Then “Tread Down” has more of a pop rock sound, with a strong, steady beat from the start. There is a bit of a 1980s vibe, something familiar, particularly in the guitar work, and that is comforting too. And there is something pretty about it. We settle into this sound, feeling at home in it, the track giving us that opportunity before the vocals come in. And indeed this song too does offer a hand, a shoulder. We all need to hear that someone is always on our side, and sometimes music is able to give us that itself. Life seems to be getting needlessly more difficult and more ugly. But this music has an uplifting energy, an encouraging energy. We can do this. We can persevere. And we may not need to lie to ourselves to do it (unless, of course, saying we’ll persevere is itself a lie, and I can’t be certain it’s not).

“Certain Beasts” eases in, like a dawn, creating an atmosphere, the sound filling the air, the space, enveloping us, even before the beat begins, that beat creating a more solid ground. The song’s first line is surprising: “I’m spitting blood.” And, perhaps because it is surprising, and thus unsettling, it is repeated. But then we are told, “But it’s okay, ‘cause I found you.” We get the sense that the world around these two is raging, with fights and fires and strife and destruction, as the music swells. And we who are listening become the two people, embracing, keeping the world at bay, even as it rumbles at our doors and windows. Hold onto each other, friends. There isn’t much else. And perhaps the rest will pass. We can be the calm center that is needed, the music tells us. That’s followed by “Ni Siquiera Tu,” which takes us to more familiar territory. There is a beauty to this track. Soft colors and lights caress us in this relatively safe place, and we can focus on each other. Our loved one’s face becomes our whole world, the music seems to say. The music gives us a moment to really see each other. Sometimes reality is narrowed down to what two people share, something that can’t be shared with anyone outside the two. The music frames our loved one’s face, and the rhythm finds us in a dance that only the two of us engage in.

Side B

The nice pop vibe of “Embers” puts us in a more cheerful, or least accepting, state. We need that feeling, that memory, for we may end up in a place that is broken, sections of ourselves separated from the others. Still, the pieces are caressed by the vocals here, and so we feel whole, we feel comforted. Toward the end, we seem to have entered an ethereal territory. Are we saying goodbye or hello? Then with “Falling Dream” we begin in a dreamlike realm, partially in a place of cloud and thoughts, partially in a more physical, defined space, the latter created in part by that delicious bass line. There is a pull in both directions, and it is uncertain in which, if either, lies our fate. “So please wake me up/If I’ve been dreaming.” But it feels the whole place, whether dreaming or awake, shares certain dubious qualities, and so it may be best to just go where it will take us. The music can be our guide.

“Soma” builds from its beat, creating a place of heartbeats and glowing flesh, where speaking is unnecessary. And so this track is an instrumental, the album’s sole instrumental number. Knowledge pulses within the flesh, in individual cells, and within the organism as a whole. And there is knowledge perceived as grace within its movement. We are far from alone here, as the drums seem to indicate as the track progresses. As the sound begins to build, there comes a sense of urgency, crucial information imparted through touch, through movement, racing against the darkness that descends upon us. That’s followed by “The Flesh,” and here we enter a more mysterious place, our steps tentative, a dreamlike quality to our motion, for we go slowly, perceive things slowly. The voice comes from a place of pain, a pain that runs deep, and from the past. There is something seemingly eternal about its source. There is no need to hurry, even if it were possible. The album concludes with “Living Ancestor,” the voice coming from various places, surrounding us, so that we feel comfortable sinking into the sound, presented in soft golds and greens and blues. The earth and the sky combine, so that we can land in air or grass or cloud. Unharmed, we drift, we settle. We just have to trust in the sound. And we do, partly because of its beauty. Death becomes irrelevant, even if there is an unexpected change at the end just as we relax into that shifting eternity, that pleasant oblivion

Record Track List

Side A

1. Let’s Play Wolves
2. Tread Down
3. Certain Beasts
4. Ni Siquiera Tu

Side B

1. Embers
2. Falling Dream
3. Soma
4. The Flesh
5. Living Ancestor

My Own Dead Love is scheduled to be released on vinyl on March 14, 2025, though the record release party was on March 1st, and the album was made available digitally on February 28th.

Jesse Daniel Edwards: “Jesse Daniel Edwards” (2025) Vinyl Review

Jesse Daniel Edwards is a singer and songwriter based in Nashville. In 2022 he released We, The Product (a great title, don’t you agree?), and followed that in 2023 with American Dreaming and Violensia. In 2024, he released Clap Trap Venus (a really fun title). On his new album, a self-titled release, Jesse Daniel Edwards revisits some material from those other releases, though in a different setting. This album finds him performing solo on piano, delivering wonderful, stripped-down renditions of some of his best songs. All of the songs here were written by him. The album was recorded in Memphis, and produced by Denny Swofford. It is presented on a nice orange vinyl.

Side A

“I’m So Happy (I Think I Might Cry)” is so wonderfully sad at the beginning, with depressing opening lines: “I’ve been all around the world/Guess what?/It’s all the same.” Those lines perhaps hit us particularly hard now, at a time when we think that things must be better elsewhere, somewhere, or at least we hope they are. “The truth is I lied/When I said I was fine.” But what’s especially interesting about this song is that the energy increases, feeling a sort of joy rising within this air of melancholy. Sometimes there is a strange sort of happiness in feeling bad, but this song is ultimately quite positive, in that he has, or least says he has, all he really needs. Most of the trappings of this life are just not important. “But I’ve got a good pill for my thrills/And a good pill for my chills/And a very good excuse for my ills/And I’ve got almost too much time to kill.” This song was originally on Violensia, and on that recording those lines are somewhat different, not quite as sad, for there he sings, “I’ve got a good coat for my chills/And a good girl for my thrills.” Here the pills don’t seem to work, for he still has ills, and the only thing he can offer is a good excuse. This track features a moving vocal performance.

The piano work at the beginning of “This House Comes With A Ghost” feels like a memory playing in an important corner of our minds. On this track, Jesse Daniel Edwards sings, “These walls have seen it all/The stories they could tell/Of broken-hearted love affairs/And bittersweet farewells.” It is interesting to me how “it all” seems to not include anything joyful or pleasant. There is an almost delicate delivery of the song’s title line that first time it comes around. It’s too bad this song’s title wasn’t used in the description of the home a friend of mine bought. That would have saved her a lot of trouble (trouble all its previous owners faced too). It’s a beautiful song. That’s followed by “Everything Makes You Sick,” which was included on Violensia. “My head keeps spinning/But my world won’t turn.” What a great couple of lines. There is an intensity to his delivery and his playing. “But I’m going to be okay/Even though everything makes you sick these days.” Wow, this guy can craft some compelling lyrics. And after those lines, there is some nice work on piano. These lines also stand out to me: “Was all that time we spent in my bedroom/Just chemical relays in my mind?” In part, that’s because it’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. Is there free will? Or are all our choices simply the results of our chemical makeup? It makes us wonder just what exactly love is. Interestingly, toward the end, those early lines change to “My world keeps spinning/But my head won’t turn.” And this is the thought this song leaves us with: “Everything makes you sick/And there’s no cure.”

“Remember How To Love” is a pretty song with a sweet, gentle vocal delivery. “If I could remember how to love you/Maybe you’d remember how to smile/If I could remember how to love you/Maybe you would forget I need reminding once in a while.” There is love and ache in the delivery, and a feeling of doom mixed with hope, all making it a compelling song. “Maybe you would remember that you still love me too,” he sings at the end, and we hear, and feel, his vulnerability. The first side then ends with “Wrong About God,” a song about a chaplain in the army who became “tired of lying to dead men.” There is a haunted feel to his delivery. “So I tried to learn to play the guitar/But my fingers kept shaking.” In that moment, the music begins to grow in force. This is a powerful song, originally included on Clap Trap Venus. “But life is good/Everything is fine, I guess.” I love that “I guess,” which adds more honesty to the line, letting us know that everything isn’t quite fine. Or perhaps it is that he has trouble accepting that things are fine.

Side B

“She’s a glass of wine in a paper cup/Proof that something fine can be something rough,” Jesse Daniel Edwards sings at the beginning of “Secret Of You.” This is an interesting, honest and ultimately beautiful love song about how we see how incredible that special person is, believing that “Someday everyone is gonna feel exactly the same way/About you as I do.” How could they not? Ah, if only she felt the way about herself as I do. That’s the only one that really matters. That’s followed by “Nobody’s Got Me,” a song that was originally on Violensia. Here are the opening lines: “I like a voice in the dark/Simple things, like Sunday walks in sunny parks/After all, isn’t that what we’re all after?” It’s a song about loneliness, the song’s character seeing, or feeling, that everyone else has that special someone. The world looks different in those times. It’s not just loneliness; it’s the sense that you’re not understood, not known. This track contains some gorgeous piano work.

Every song on this album has lines that stand out, lyrics we want to hold onto. From “Omaha,” there are these: “But those nights we spent in Omaha/Spending tomorrows we didn’t have/Baby, don’t be sorry for that.” This song takes a look at the past, with mixed feelings. “Be sorry that the best times are past.” It’s a beautiful, moving song. Do you sometimes feel like everything is slipping away? In “Left Your Coat Behind,” Jesse Daniel Edwards sings, “And I know I’m running out of time/You’ve only just arrived, now you’re saying goodbye.” These lines had me in tears the first time I listened to this record, for I thought of death, of a final and eternal goodbye, rather than a temporary parting. “I know we’re running out of time.” It’s all so brief, this life, as well as all who are a part of it. Maybe we can return for a forgotten coat, but at some point there is no returning, for things much more important than a coat. And everything is left behind. This is one of my favorite tracks. It was originally included on American Dreaming. Death is also in the first line of the album’s final song, “So Passes The Light From The Eye”: “When I die, I’m going back to Akron.” It’s interesting how within even a single line our emotions can change. At the beginning of that line, I was still caught in the sadness of the previous track, but by the end I was smiling, smiling at the surprise of where that line took us. To Akron, of all places. There is a moment in this song that reminds me of Leon Russell, or perhaps Billy Joel at his best. “So passes the day into the long black night/With a flicker and a whisper, then goodbye.”

Record Track List

Side A

1. I’m So Happy (I Think I Might Cry)
2. This House Comes With A Ghost
3. Everything Makes You Sick
4. Remember How To Love
5. Wrong About God

Side B

1. Secret Of You
2. Nobody’s Got Me
3. Omaha
4. Left Your Coat Behind
5. So Passes The Light From The Eye

Jesse Daniel Edwards was released on February 21, 2025 on Cavity Search Records.

Jon Irabagon: “Server Farm” (2025) CD Review

It would be impossible to not have some opinion about Artificial Intelligence these days, and also some worries. There are certainly benefits to the technology, particularly in the science and medical fields. But there are also dangers, not just in the easy manipulation of facts and the further eroding of our privacy, but our very humanity being stripped away. Who the hell wants our stories created and told by artificial intelligence? At that point, what good are we as a species? And isn’t there something negative in the very word “artificial”? Surely, that word carries negative connotations, at least for those of us who still appreciate a natural world, a natural smile, human thoughts and emotions. The ethical concerns of the technology are particularly worrisome, and at a time when ethical considerations have dropped off the list of priorities for too many people. Saxophone player and composer Jon Irabagon addresses these concerns on his new album, Server Farm. The album’s title is a mixing of the artificial and the natural, or perhaps an indication of how the artificial is made to imitate and then replace the natural. It is not difficult to imagine this farm, this expanse of computers. And if there were once human farmers caring for this electronic crop, they don’t seem to figure in the image any longer. The servers will grow themselves, replicate themselves, for they are only serving other computers anyway. The album’s title fits the music too, which seems to exist in two realms, the natural and the artificial, taking us to the place where they collide and offering strong sensations and indications of the likely outcome. Jon Irabagon plays tenor saxophone and soprano saxophone. Joining him are Mazz Swift on violin, Peter Evans on trumpet and flugelhorn, Miles Okazaki on guitar, Wendy Eisenberg on guitar, Matt Mitchell on piano and synthesizer, Michael Formanek on acoustic bass, Chris Lightcap on electric bass, Dan Weiss on drums, and Levy Lorenzo on kulintang and vibraphone as well as electronic sounds.

The opening track, “Colocation,” begins with percussion that is like a series of bells. It’s so interesting, because the sound might remind of us of some call to attend religious services, but there is also something about it that puts us in mind of computers working away. Two very different scenes, to be sure. But perhaps they are already being combined, for it is in that manufactured universe that we are turning for so much these days. So why not spiritual fulfillment? Then suddenly the piece kicks in with a great force, feeling like a tremendous train that cannot be stopped. Aren’t there moments when we’d like to call a temporary halt to so-called progress, at least until we can figure out if continuing will be more beneficial or harmful to us? After all, we are still relatively young and relatively stupid as a species. Sure, we create this powerful technology, but we still are attached to old mythology and superstition. There is something fun about this ride, and there is humor at moments early on. But there is also something frightening at times about this track, particularly approximately four minutes in, when the music seems to overtake even the musicians. The power is getting out of hand, and soon the music moves into chaotic territory, and much too quickly for us to be able to sort things out, lights and metal and numbers hurling past us and at us. Then there is a pause, a moment for us to get our bearings. As we do, there is a haunting quality to the music. We’ve entered a different space, and even though things might be mellower here, they are no less frightening. In fact, having a moment to be able to look around might produce more worries, as we get a good view at the monsters. But maybe things will be all right, for there is an unexpected sweetness in the mix. That, however, is only temporary, and things get crazy again, building or falling into chaos. There is a frantic feel here, but no particular direction, giving us the sense that we are surrounded. Yet, surprisingly, a great groove emerges from this. And with it comes relief and a sense of fun. Are we saved? Or is this unreal as well? And isn’t that one of the scarier notions of this Artificial Intelligence trend, that we won’t be able to tell the difference? Once again, things become frantic before the track’s conclusion.

“Routers” also begins with percussion, short ideas popping up and disappearing, then reappearing. There is some humor here. I imagine gophers in some computer room popping up from various spots in the machinery, and then ducking back down before they can be grabbed. The saxophone expresses frustration at one moment, giving sudden shouts. But a rhythm is established, and rather than fighting it, we become part of it. The machinery itself seems to be taking part. But the saxophone largely remains the human voice here, reacting, yes, but also attempting to orchestrate or direct the action, or to overcome it. And then things begin coming together, many voices now moving in one direction and dragging the rest of us along with them. The track picks up in power, in energy. And then it suddenly drops us into an isolated area, a place strange and kind of wonderful. It is there we are left. Then as “Singularities” begins, the voices are together, experiencing the same moments, expressing the same sensations. Though, interestingly, there isn’t a flow to those experiences, at least not at first. There are breaths, there are pauses, waves of information overtaking us, then, I suppose, receding. Then there is something of a struggle, of a fight, as we are overwhelmed, but refuse to bend. And it seems, perhaps, that we’ve come out on top, put things into their places. But if so, it is only a momentary victory, for the electric circuits rise up and wrap around us like tendrils. A groove emerges, and things feel good for a time. They feel right. We are back in the driver’s seat, moving along a road, swaying to the elements around us, and within them, even as some darker forms begin to rise around us. There is the sense that we can continue to dance, to enjoy ourselves. Keep an eye on what’s forming, certainly, but that’s all that is required. We’ll be okay. But then it is as if our eyes are getting smaller, their eyes more numerous. We are shrinking under the onslaught, even if it is not a particularly violent one. It is almost like the information itself becomes too much. When we find a door, where it leads is to an unfamiliar place. And we wonder, is there a way back? The answer seems to be no, that we are the ones who have to adapt. The machines seem to sing to each other, their voices getting more excited. Maybe they realize they are winning, or have won.

“Graceful Exit” opens in a somewhat more somber, and perhaps lonesome place. There is beauty to that work on acoustic bass, and we are in a natural setting. But after a breath, the electronic world makes itself known. So it is in our mind even as we get some gorgeous, classic work on saxophone, playing that has that great late-night vibe. There are two worlds here that have become attached at a fundamental level, a forced hybrid of sorts. The human element still wishes to create beauty, to express emotions, but perhaps even those things are being co-opted by the more sinister elements underneath. And will these become the dominant voices of our world? There is a sadness here, a melancholy that existed even before the machinery, and it seems this is one of the things we wish to hold onto, which is interesting. The desire, the willingness to take despair and pain over coldness and emptiness. There is some wonderful work on violin. There is also the sense of an inevitable march toward one’s doom. And then there is uncertainty, a scampering about, searching for one’s footing. Are the machines learning to even mimic our very despair, assimilating it? Once that is done, we are whipped into submission, for even our sadness is gone. And the heavy doors close on us. “Graceful Exit” leads straight into “Spy.” There are what could be animal noises, squeals, with human voices mixed in. It’s all one to them, isn’t it? Now we are in a dark realm, submerged. And if there is a struggle, it is no longer to keep the machines in check, but to find a tiny human place within their world. A voice tells us, “I saw a tiny bumble bee today.” And we can’t help but wonder if even that was real, or some kind of illusion. I am put in mind briefly of Bonnie Dobson’s “Morning Dew,” when Bonnie sings, “You didn’t hear a man moan at all.” Perhaps it is there, after all, one tiny element of a world that is largely gone. And perhaps not. Perhaps it too is part of the artificial world, a drone gathering information, in the guise of something natural. That is Mazz Swift on vocals. As the electronic voices threaten to completely overwhelm her, she sings, “And as it disappeared from sight/I swear it turned to say goodbye.” And we feel then that it all was an illusion. And at that point we are only halfway through the track. Where do we go from there? We go deeper into the harsh new reality, for it does feel like a descent. Some people are eager for it, remember, they’ve already given up their voices, and their humanity was probably dubious from the outset. It is maddening that they are somehow in charge of this project. But we still find beauty where we can, create it when it is not to be found, and perhaps that part of humanity cannot be fully extinguished. At the end, Mazz Swift repeats those final lines, but now her voice has power, even glory, the electronic creatures have released their grip, at least momentarily.

CD Track List

1. Colocation
2. Routers
3. Singularities
4. Graceful Exit
5. Spy

Server Farm was released on February 21, 2025 on Irabbagast Records.