Thanks to the remnants of Hurricane Helene, our slice of paradise was rife with torrential rain and tornado warnings/watches from mid-morning until a little before noon. Diane and I huddled in a bathroom for 20-some minutes at one point and, later, turned on Spectrum News in order to track any additional potential twisters heading our way.
My normal routine was something of a washout, in other words. I typically listen to an assortment of forthcoming and new releases most mornings, plus old favorites. Today, before the first tornado watch interrupted me, I found myself listening to my New Music Mix on Apple Music—the only playlist I listen to, actually. It relies on an algorithm that uses my past plays to predict 25 new and/or recent songs that I might like. This week’s list includes four songs (and/or their album homes) that I’ve featured on my blog over the past few weeks—“Bad Times” by Mo Kenney, “Stick in the Mud” by Tessa Rose Jackson & the Shells, “Plastic Pink Flamingos” by Karen Jonas, and “Wind Watching” by Abbey Blackwell. Of the remaining 21 tracks…a few perked my interest, Honeyglaze’s “Ghost” especially.
Honeyglaze, as I just discovered, is an indie rock trio from South London that released their sophomore album, Real Deal, last week. On first listen, they remind me of the Chicago-based Horsegirl, whose Versions of Modern Performance rocked my 2022. Honeyglaze’s music, like Horsegirl’s, mimics this morning, in a way, with moments of ferocity followed by eerie calm. It’s quite cool.
An age-old proverb claims that curiosity killed the cat. I find it a silly saying. Curiosity is what has led to almost every achievement—large and small—known to humankind, after all. Even when it comes to the minuscule meanderings of my blog, for instance, curiosity is what drives them. It’s why, rather than settling for the single “Ghost,” I clicked through and played the album in full—and then sought out information about Honeyglaze.
Somewhat along those lines: I was shocked a few weeks back when, on a Gen X-flavored Facebook group, quite a few folks expressed their surprise that the Bangles’ 1987 single “Hazy Shade of Winter” was a cover of a Simon & Garfunkel song from 1966. My first thought: Don’t they read the songwriting credits? Who wrote what, who plays on what—all that stuff has interested me from day one. An example: In late 1977, when I was 12 and just getting into this crazy little thing called rock ’n’ pop, I developed an appreciation for Jan & Dean after hearing a few of their songs on an oldies radio show. I bought one of them, “Surf City,” on 45 and was immediately intrigued by the “B. Wilson” credited as a co-writer beside “J. Barry.”
That led me to the Beach Boys.
Back in the day, when I worked for TV Guide, I often interviewed the talent responsible for various TV shows and specials—sometimes the celebrities themselves, other times behind-the-scenes folks—for “Close Up” highlights and longer, web-only pieces. (My take on the Wingspan documentary about Paul McCartney’s other old band, Wings, is a good example of the latter.) If not for my curiosity, many of those conversations would have led to boring quotes. The key had next-to-nothing with pre-planned questions, though it was always good to have them on hand, but in following up the initial answers—digging deeper, if you will, which only comes when one is curious about the whys and wherefores of life.
The Old Grey Cat 
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