It’s just another morning here: I clicked play on one YouTube video/song and let the algorithmic wave do its thing, riding the wild surf for hours. It’s not Waimea Bay, where 30-foot walls of water are known to rise from the sea, but invigorating all the same. Some are static clips, others inventive (or not) videos meant to amplify the lyrics, and the rest straightforward performance pieces—some official, some not.
What I find fascinating about such sonic trips: the first song sets the agenda. That often means YouTube serves up a succession of tunes that mine the same stylistic terrain. But if I start with, say, Mikaela Davis, it unreels a slew of live clips of her with Southern Star or Circles Around the Sun. The same’s true with Nanci Griffith, the Staves, Lucy Rose, and other artists; YouTube seemingly knows that I expect marathons of their music when I start with one of their clips. Too, as today, if one of their videos appears midway through an on-the-fly mix, another is sure to follow.
Back on point: Nashville-based singer-songwriter (and one-time Jersey girl) Jessie Baylin’s “Wild Life” unleashed today’s tsunami. Some of the songs that followed were new or recent, others old, with the styles ranging from pop to country to straight-up singer-songwriter to various combinations therein. Rock was represented, too, though more moody blues than over-the-top guitar histrionics; think Hope Sandoval & the Warm Inventions. Some two hours later, another of Baylin’s songs popped up: an OurVinyl performance of “I Feel That Too” from her 2012 Little Spark album, which married the classic pop and soul of Dusty Springfield to the SoCal sound of the 1970s. Her whimsical “Strawberry Wind” blew through, too.
“Wild Life” is not the old Wings song, by the way, but an infectious throwback that ably re-imagines the Full Moon Fever many of us experienced in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, albeit through adult eyes: “Stood out in the distance/looking back at my life/all of the promises/on the edge of a knife.”
In an email to those of us on her mailing list, she wrote, “I hope you enjoy the heck out of this one. I hope it gives you the feeling I want it to – windows down, late summer hope, pulling in and out of car line like a bat out of hell. I hope it carries the spirit of Petty, Traveling Wilburys, Gerry Rafferty – a loose 3 minute adventure – a happy track.”
It’s all that and more. It’s a breezy delight with depth.
The Old Grey Cat 