Resolution Radio

Welcome to Open Up and Read, the newsletter from music journalist Jason Brow. Thanks for reading. Tell your friends to subscribe at OpenUpAndRead.com. You can also toss a few dollars his way via Ko-Fi. Be kind to cats. Music is the best.

Naval gazing about music seems tone-deaf while Los Angeles burns.

Secret Los Angeles has a list of ways to help the victims of the wildfire crisis.

There will be many more disastrous instances like this in the coming year. Charity and compassion towards strangers will get us through. Stay safe.

Nine days into 2025, I’ve maintained my sole New Year’s resolution.

So far, it’s Grande Mahogany’s As Grande As, Okay Temiz’s Drummer of Two Worlds, Dan Melchior’s Hill Country Piano, Blue Oyster Cult’s Spectres (guess who saw Nosferatu?), Mission of Burna’s Peking Springs, God Bullies’ War on Everybody, Black Ends’ Psychic Spew and, finally, I made time for Doechii’s Aligator Bites Never Heal.

I am in a six-year self-improvement plan born out of music, Vermont and sheer embarrassment.

Back in 2019, I recreated my hometown alternative radio station through a Spotify playlist. Mid-90s oddities mixed with B-tier acts of the day. Orbit. Sponge. The Rentals. The Murmurs. BT’s “Blue Skies” with Tori Amos. Catherine Wheel, Far, and The Urge.

These non-hit wonders were the station’s signature before these deviants were driven out by Clear Channel/iHeartRadio, replaced with nu-metal, ‘00s butt-rock and mainstream irrelevancy.

I don’t know what sparked me to dig out these old songs. I remember it being a rough year—lots of anxiety and stress. It was the kind of year when I couldn’t think and sit still at the same time.

Compared to the years that would follow, it’s humiliating that 2019 had me so fucked up. But it did, and I wrapped myself up in the songs that played back when I discovered music.

I grew up in rural New York, the nebulous frozen splotch called the North Country. You can visit if you want. It’s pretty in the fall and a great place to live if you enjoy skiing, hunting, drinking, working and not much else.

If you had the means as a kid/teen, you could go up to Montreal or down to Albany to see shows. If you didn’t, there was always MTV. And if you didn’t have cable, there was the radio.

WBTZ launched in ’96, a serendipitous moment for me: I was shifting away from liking the classic rock my parents liked (a teen Neil Young fan—no wonder girls didn’t talk to me) to finding my own thing.

I was apparently designed to be a college rock mutant freak calling in the request line to harass DJs into playing Archers of Loaf’s “Assassination on Xmas Eve” in July.

My popularity didn’t improve (no shit) but at least I found my atomical frequency, the correct amplitude and wavelength of a bored loser in the middle of nowhere. And it broadcasted at 100,000 watts, coming through at 99.9 FM.

In 2019, I constructed my oasis. The playlist I crafted was extensive enough to appeal to any mood once I hit Shuffle.

Angry? Here’s Face To Face’s “I Won’t Lie Down.” Glum? There’s “Whoever You Are” by Geggy Tah—that’ll make you smile. Stressed over a bad day? Why, here are all the songs you hastily recorded on random cassettes. Cheer up, dork.

I played it a lot—so much that when Spotify generated my Top 100 songs as part of the yearly Wrapped, the lineup was practically a replica of my playlist.

And I was fuckin’ ashamed by being exposed like that. Laid out, so stark and bare, was the evidence that I’d unabashedly retreated deep into nostalgia. Spotify told me I had gray hair and a bad back, that I didn’t know how to turn on an iPhone, and that I was predictable.

There were new songs in that Top 100. I hadn’t rejected new music altogether. But, with this list, I wasn’t going to beat the allegations that I’d spent most of my time listening to the same shit I listened to in high school.

This may not seem all that bad. I’ve seen many Spotify users reveal the same musician/act as their Wrapped’s Top Artist again and again. Some do it with coy bashfulness, while others proclaim it loudly—a show of loyalty. I am of the devoted. My faith and streaming schedule do not waver.

I can’t fault someone for sticking with a favorite. (GWAR is never leaving my Top 5). But personally, hibernating totally in the old and familiar will not do. It’s comforting to cycle through the same handful of albums, but that makes you stale.

So, I made my only sincere New Year’s resolution: listen to 365 new albums. I attempt it every year.

An album a day isn’t hard—it takes 45 minutes to 1.5 hours, at most. There have been years when it’s been easy to complete the count (2020-22, I had my 365 done by…October). But when shit gets rough, it’s easy to fall behind. Last year, I fell off; too many disruptions and too much work required silence.

For some years, I focused on a single artist’s catalog—Iggy Pop and Alice Cooper have a lot of albums—but the emphasis is now on new new albums. Don’t speed through albums to catch up to the daily total. It’s pointless to listen to an album whose music I can’t remember when it’s over.

I invite you to do this. There will be moments in the coming years when returning feels like a great idea. When the world turns to shit, why not close yourself off and spend hours listening to your five favorite albums? 

But, damn. There will be amazing music during these years of strife. It would be a shame if you missed out by hiding yourself away.

If you need to replay your favorites to get through the night, do it. It’s what I did when I had a bad year. But I’ve had bad years since. 2024 was particularly trying. It left me staggered, but I remain standing, thanks in no small part to the year’s music. Pissed Jeans’ “Moving On.” Mannequin Pussy’s “Loud Bark.” Ghost Funk Orchestra’s “Eyes of Love.” Shellac’s “Scabby the Rat.” All the albums I named in June.

I would be considerably worse off had I not turned an ear outward. 

WBTZ still informs my music tastes—specifically, how to listen to more than one sound. The station was at its best when you could hear an eclectic mix within an hour. Primal Scream’s “Loaded” after Stone Temple’s “Interstate Love Song” and right before The Breeders’ “Cannonball.”  Land of Loops trippy electronic “Multi-family Garage Sale” sandwiched between Garbage’s “Stupid Girl” and Cornershop’s “Brimful of Asha.”

Nowadays, everything is decentralized. I do my best to tailor the algorithm with accounts that share new and new-to-me music. I subscribe to newsletters and follow fans and journalists who highlight music I wouldn’t find on my own.

But the radio is still active. WMFU is the go-to, but East Village Radio is back from the dead. WBTZ is still on the air. You can listen to it now if you want. 

I’ll pass. I’ve already spent enough time tuned in. I’m going to find something new. 

I’m no longer on Spotify. I quit in 2020 amid the Neil Young/Joe Rogan scuffle.

I started a job in Q3 2023, right when this newsletter went dormant (this newsletter is me getting back on my bullshit).

It was more of a managerial role, so I finished the year with one notable article: an interview with drag star Katya Zamolodchikova for People.

I recapped my 2024 on Bluesky. You can follow me there and on Instagram, or just read this if you’re sick of social media.

Music journalism clocked out early in 2024. All the sites published their Best Albums of 2024 within the first two weeks of December. Here are a few albums that didn’t make many (if any) of the lists.

Swami and the Bed of Nails, All Of This Awaits You: read my interview with John Reis. It’s another excellent entry in Reis’s Swamiverse. Hopefully, we get another Rocket From the Crypt tour soon.

The Linda Lindas, No Obligation: Half of the album was released as singles over a 17-month period, which might have lessened its impression on people. I thought it was a good album and “All in My Head” is a great song 

Fatboi Sharif & Duncecap, Psychedelics Wrote the Bible: You could also put Brain Candy, the collab album between Fatboi Sharif, Fat Tony and steel tipped dove. But Psychedelics Wrote The Bible is more in tune to Preaching In Havana, the album (with noface) that made me a fan of Sharif.

Melvins, Tarantula Heart: This is the Melvins’ 28th studio album (and that number grows if you count their collaborative albums). The band knows what it’s doing, and it’s pretty damn good.

Blockhead, Mortality Is Lit!: Blockhead’s second album of 2024. If you want some instrumental hip-hop that’ll make you feel great? Here you go.

It’s going to be a crazy year. Take care of yourself and your loved ones.

Thank you for checking out Open Up and Read, the newsletter from music journalist Jason Brow. If you like what you read, tell your friends and consider tossing a few dollars my way via Ko-Fi. Be kind to cats. Music is the best.