Read the original Cthulhu’s Autism newsletter post here.
Welcome to OPE!, the newsletter by writer and music journalist Brady Gerber. This essay, originally published in my newsletter, is free for all subscribers. Paying subscribers also gain access to the top music news of the week and my favorite songs and links. All typos are intentional.
Get future essays sent to your inbox right away here.
Well, hello there. How are you?
IHow about that Super Bowl. Congrats to all my Eagles-supporting friends. I’ve already forgotten about the bulk of Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl performance, but it wasn’t bad. This week’s Big Three for paying subscribers has me rewatching the show on YouTube, which inspired more thoughts on the role of the Super Bowl within the music industry (I feel mixed?) and how Kendrick, I argue, is walking away from the Super Bowl as … sort of a loser? This week also got the best of me with many appointments that kept me away from my laptop, so this week will be short and sweet.
In the meantime, I wanted to shout out Sara Gibbs. At least within my world, she went somewhat viral for her latest for The Daily Tism, which is The Onion but specifically for neurodiversity gags written by neurodiverse writers and, thank goodness, is actually funny, even if you just read the headline:
It was a much-needed laugh after a pretty brutal couple of days, in-between RFKJ getting his green light (something I wrote a lot about a few newsletters ago), weird X bros choosing to blame Elon’s weird nazi salute on his autism, and most recently, Kanye West reentering the news saying (more) unpleasant stuff and adding, “By the way, I’ve now been diagnosed with autism, so I can continue saying weird shit and you can’t be mad.”
PSA: You can be autistic and not be a nazi. I’m not a nazi, contrary to what TikTok will tell you.
Sara’s joke is relatively short, so here it is:
“A gigantic entity worshipped by cultists, Cthulhu, has announced that he is evil because he has autism.
Cthulhu, described as “a monster of vaguely anthropoid outline, but with an octopus-like head whose face was a mass of feelers, a scaly, rubbery-looking body, prodigious claws on hind and fore feet, and long, narrow wings behind,” disclosed their diagnosis after Kanye West made a similar claim yesterday.
Cthulhu is non-speaking, but communicated via their followers: “Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn,” which loosely translates to: “everyone else is trying it on, so why not Cthulhu?”
“Cthulhu isn’t nearly as evil as Kanye Boris, or Elon and yet they hadn’t tried flinging autism into the mix as a vague catch-all excuse.”
A spokesperson for autistics, Paige Thomas, commented: “Wait autism doesn’t make you ev-“ but was unable to finish her sentence before Cthulhu woke and dragged her into the depths of the ocean.“
“Everyone else is trying it on.”
With love and all the other good things,
-b
Original OPE! logo by Claire Kuang. Words and cartoons by yours truly. My views don’t reflect my clients or the publications and brands I work with. All typos are intentional.
Read the original 2025 Grammys newsletter post here.
Welcome to OPE!, the newsletter by writer and music journalist Brady Gerber. This essay, originally published in my newsletter, is free for all subscribers. Paying subscribers also gain access to the top music industry news of the week and my favorite songs and links. All typos are intentional.
Get future essays sent to your inbox right away here.
Well, hello there. How are you?
I was at the Grammys on Sunday.
This was my first time attending the Grammys as a member of the Recording Academy. I had a good time. I even ran into a few friends and colleagues in between the premiere ceremony, where most of the Grammy awards are handed out, and the telecast, the main event. During the premiere ceremony, we sat next to two strangers who, five minutes after we sat down, won the Grammy for Best Recording Package for Charli XCX’s Brat. Shockingly, I was not seated next to Taylor Swift. Still, we had lovely seats where we could see everything happen in real time. This was also weirdly one of the better-sounding arena shows I’ve been to.
Some gut reactions, in no particular order:
Tame Impala won their first Grammy!
Kanye continues to be every middle school’s edgy kid (you can Google what he “did” this year).
Tough beat for Drake.
Hanz Zimmer won a Grammy for his Dune: Part Two score. Score one for the worm farts.
I didn’t know about Benson Boone’s whole bit about the backflips, so … was not expecting that …
I’ve been underwhelmed by “Not Like Us” since it came out—I still fall along the lines of “Kendrick won the Kendrick vs. Drake beef battle by making a Drake album, so we all lose”—but somehow watching Kendrick win all those Grammys made me love the song more. The loudest cheers within the arena came from Kendrick’s wins.
As far as the corny tribute section does, Chris Martin did a good enough job.
I don’t think Taylor Swift was happy to get shut out from any of the major Grammys, the first time this has happened to her in a while. But she’s probably relieved that she didn’t win Album of the Year this year to then deal with insane Beyoncé fans turning her into (even more of) a villain.
Meanwhile, Kacey Musgraves looked pissed that she didn’t win best Country album. What a loser.
I had to Google to remember what Kacey Musgraves’s album was called.
Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga are doing well for themselves in their Vegas eras.
I’m going to steal Lady Gaga’s haircut.
The Weeknd burying the hatchet with the Grammys was fine … and convenient, since he had a new album to promote that wasn’t really doing well. (I still haven’t heard it.) (Update this morning: I listened to it. Eh.)
I’m glad the André 3000 flute album didn’t win. What a snooze.
Not that most people under 40 care about Americana music, but Sierra Ferrell’s sweep of the major Americana Grammys cements her as the official next big thing. She’s not bad.
Now that Billie Eilish has broken her streak of winning too many Grammys, most of which I still feel she didn’t earn, I now feel more inclined to like her. “Birds of a Feather,” not bad.
Charli XCX is your friend who will tell you she’s about to do something edgy and then does something not edgy.
Julia Fox is your friend who will tell you she’s about to do something edgy and then does something edgy and you go, “Jesus Christ what is wrong with you.”
I loved the “I Love L.A.” opening cover and the general tone of most of the tributes to Los Angeles. This is a hard tone to maintain over hours of showtime, so credit where it’s due. The firefighters coming out to hand out Album of the Year felt genuinely special. The longer I live in LA, the more I appreciate how the Randy Newman classic is the unofficial song of the city because of its spiteful origins.
Trevor Noah: By the way, we also care about DC and Philly.
Jacob Collier fucking sucks.
Can Gracie Abrams and Ethel Cain duke it out to finally settle who is the more boring goth.
It was fun being there, but even I thought the ceremony was too long.
So long, 2025 Grammys. See you next year.
With love and all the other good things,
-b
Original OPE! logo by Claire Kuang. Words and cartoons by yours truly. My views don’t reflect my clients or the publications and brands I work with. All typos are intentional. Here’s my website and LinkedIn.
Read the original 2025 Oscars newsletter post here.
Welcome to OPE!, the newsletter by writer and music journalist Brady Gerber. This essay, originally published in my newsletter, is free for all subscribers. Paying subscribers also gain access to the top music industry news of the week and my favorite (and new-to-me) songs and links. All typos are intentional.
Get future essays sent to your inbox right away here.
Focusing on the list of Best Picture nominees, I’ve seen all these films but two. I haven’t seen Nickel Boys, which seems just a little too arty and too proud of itself for my taste, and I haven’t seen The Substance, because I’m not a body horror guy.
In terms of music, most of these nominees, at least compared to recent years, have some interesting use of music and sound … enough so that I thought it could be fun to remember what about the sounds of these movies stood out to me the most, for better or worse.
Listed in alphabetical order.
Anora
The movie’s opening includes an incredible use of Robin Schulz’s remix of Take That’s “The Greatest Day.” It returns throughout the film to great, and ironic, effect. Anora is one of two movies on this list that I’m most likely to rewatch and like more. What an ending. What a big year for the Robbie Williams extended universe.
This is the other film I will probably enjoy more when I see it a second time. This is the boring but safe choice for Oscar Score of the Year. Depending on my mood, I like Daniel Blumberg’s score more than the film, which is kind of a shame. On paper, The Brutalist should be my favorite movie ever. Only seeing it once, I walked away thinking it has an Everything Everywhere All At Once problem: a phenomenal theater experience that probably can’t translate well to home viewing. I still think about the film’s first five minutes often, so there’s genuine greatness here. I’m excited to watch it again. For now, yes, enjoy Blumberg’s score.
I liked how whenever Ralph Fiennes snuck into someone’s room, all the sound would disappear as if nothing could enter or leave these private rooms full of secrets safe from the outside world. A fun movie I’d watch again hungover.
Dune: Part Two
Worm farts have never sounded so majestic. 7/10 movie.
Emilia Pérez
The worst music I’ve ever heard in my life.
I’m Still Here
Generic score for generic movie. It’s nice that it’s nominated, but I found the film too long and boring, despite its fascinating story based on real events. I’d rather watch City of God.
Nickel Boys / The Substance
Haven’t seen either, apologies.
Wicked
I saw Wicked on Broadway a few years ago with my mom and we enjoyed it. I liked the songs. I found the movie way too long and not improving upon its music. It drove me crazy that several times, the actors would interrupt their own songs just to throw out a bit. Saying that Ariana Grande was good in the film is like saying a cheese grater is good at its job. It’s grating.
May the “best” 2025 Oscars film win.
With love and all the other good things,
-b
Original OPE! logo by Claire Kuang. Words and cartoons by yours truly. My views don’t reflect my clients or the publications and brands I work with. All typos are intentional. Here’s my website and LinkedIn.
Read the original David Lynch newsletter post here.
Welcome to OPE!, the newsletter by writer and music journalist Brady Gerber. This is where I share the top music industry news of the week, my favorite (and new-to-me) songs and links, and various musings on life. All typos are intentional.
Well, hello there. How are you?
It’s still been a crazy week, but thankfully the fires around Los Angeles have calmed down. We’re back safe in our home. We’re still on alert in case any bad winds come back. I’m starting to wrap my head around all the reports of damage and loss around us.
Another loss from the past week that had nothing to do with the fires yet still made me quite sad: the passing of David Lynch.
In a way, Lynch’s death is another loss specific to Los Angeles. Born in Montana and living in many cities before settling in LA in the early ‘70s, Lynch grew into an eccentric local icon, even outside his many notable films about LA. He even did the weather reports for one of the local public stations. I miss him.
I’m more sad than I thought I would be. I’ve always been a consistently casual Lynch fan, always appreciating the effort and his commitment to himself as a Capital A Artist, even if the output was hit or miss. I didn’t realize how much I loved most of his work until he left us.
The Mulholland Drive in my mind is perfect, includes one of the scariest jump scares I’ve ever seen, and has a top five favorite movie scene; I find half of the actual movie aimless and boring, though maybe those scenes help Lynch conjure the feeling of walking through a dream.
Lost Highway genuinely unsettled me and made me feel gross. The more I think about it, the more I believe it to be Lynch’s most successful execution of his artistic vision.
Twin Peaks remains charming and rewatchable.
Twin Peaks: The Return is the only new Lynch work I got to experience in real time. It’s as good as everyone says it is.
I hate Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me. I understand why he made it, and I don’t care.
I still haven’t seen Inland Empire and probably won’t.
The Straight Story, maybe.
Eraserhead is like a great debut album: an excellent t-shirt, fun to talk about where you were when you first watched it, and reveals all its cards on the first watch.
I think Blue Velvet is fine but I believe people who say this is their favorite.
Now that we have another Dune, the pressure is off Lynch’s original Dune, and it’s easier to appreciate its weird charm.
I regret not tuning into Lynch’s LA weather reports.
I am also not the only David Lynch fan who has caught his unique relationship with music. Lynch was a true artist in the sense that he was always making stuff even beyond the films and TV shows that made him famous. I won’t pretend I paid much attention to his solo albums. I’m excited to now check them out.
I tried and failed to write an earlier draft of this essay trying to convey Lynch’s wonderful use of sound and music in his art. Instead, I am more inspired by all the wonderful tributes that are still coming out. I feel better this morning sharing some of the more thoughtful tributes I’ve seen. If you’ve never seen a Lynch film, hopefully, one of these tributes will convince you to at least give him a shot.
Alastair Shuttleworth did a lovely breakdown in The Guardian about Lynch’s relationship to music.
So did Glenn Fosbraey and Daniel Ash in this Conversation breakdown.
Original OPE! logo by Claire Kuang. Words and cartoons by yours truly. My views don’t reflect my clients or the publications and brands I work with. All typos are intentional. Here’s my website and LinkedIn.
Welcome to OPE!, the newsletter by writer and music journalist Brady Gerber. This is where I share the top music industry news of the week, my favorite (and new-to-me) songs and links, and various musings on life. All typos are intentional.
Well, hello there. How are you?
So, yes. The wildfires.
This is a surreal newsletter to write. I won’t pretend what I’m writing is unique or notable compared to all the stories we’re seeing on the news. I’m OK right now. I’m lucky that I could drive to a relative’s place many miles south of the evacuation zones, from which I’m writing this newsletter, and where we’re waiting and seeing until the strong winds finally calm down, hopefully by the end of this week. A lot of people were not lucky. Today, I’m just trying to process the past week for myself. I don’t have a neat “this is what this all means” thesis. I have no desire to come up with one.
If you read last week’s newsletter (new subscribers, hello), it was published in the early stages of what we can now call the worst wildfire in Los Angeles history. By Tuesday evening, when I finished writing the newsletter, the growing Palisades fire had already destroyed an acquaintance’s home where my roommate and I had dinner just a few months ago. It seemed like everyone I knew had a friend or two who lost their homes. In my journal that evening, I wrote about the fire as a surreal and tragic yet far-away incident, a testament to how large and sprawling Los Angeles is and the general lack of unity among most Angelenos outside of tragedies or when the Dodgers play well. I live in central LA; the Palisades might as well be in a different state.
By the time I pressed “send” on the newsletter Wednesday morning, the Palisades fire had worsened, and at a rate quicker than expected. The new Eaton fire to the east had become a serious threat. All the winds across LA, which by the previous evening were the strongest I had seen since moving here, were growing stronger. I could not remember the last time it rained. The worst-case scenarios that we were warned about were happening. Instead of one major fire to the west, we were surrounded by multiple fires. I woke up to heavy smoke that I could taste in my room coming in from the Eaton fire, its smoke blocking my typical bedroom view of north Los Angeles, from Fairfax into the Hollywood Hills. My older building doesn’t have the best-sealed windows, but I heard reports from newer and nicer apartments nearby that were full of residents tasting ash in their rooms. I don’t smoke, but it felt like what I imagine smoking 20 cigarettes within an hour would feel like. I could not see any flames, yet the density of the smoke traveling this many miles to my neighborhood was disturbing. It was an ugly view.
I tried to work. I tried to stay busy. I spent more time than expected checking fire updates on Watch Duty, an app I had never heard of before but was now checking more often than my email. (Thank you to all the developers and volunteers who run and maintain that app.) I texted all my LA friends to check in on them while responding to calls and texts from family and friends confirming my safety. I did some pacing. I tried and failed to nap; I ended up not sleeping much the night before. It was a similar feeling I had while living in NYC in March 2020 and seeing all the increasingly concerning sick reports happening throughout the city. It’s like seeing a faraway tidal wave forming … and realizing the wave was heading in my direction.
I was in a daze—a weirdly isolating daze. A few weeks ago, I committed to staying off all social media except to promote this newsletter. As much as I wanted to check in with all my friends and acquaintances, I had no desire to log on. I did not wish to see any images of destruction just over the hill. I did not want to engage with all the viral news stories and images, many of which I later learned were AI-generated and spreading misinformation regarding the fires and the city’s response. Contrary to what strangers on TikTok and Instagram say, the Hollywood sign did not burn down.
A quick detour to my soapbox. There are, of course, a lot of valid criticisms of Los Angeles and California. I’m curious and preemptively angry and frustrated with all the information that we will learn in the next few weeks about how these fires were started and everything the city and state did wrong. In a brief scan of my usual news outlets by the end of the morning, it became clear that Wednesday had become a field day for all the mediocre bloggers pretending to be journalists whose entire personality is “own the libs,” who saw the reports of civilians losing their homes and going out of their way to say, “But the looting.” I will have plenty of time to field questions like this in the next few weeks from family who mean well and family who don’t mean well. The clutch-my-pearls content mill must churn on, as they say. And this kind of reporting can be done well and should be done; I enjoyed Matt Stieb’s quick interview with Char Miller to talk about the history of wildfires across LA County, everything the city did wrong and are doing wrong, and how LA and its citizens can do better going forward, including actively not building real estate deep into fire zones. And yes, the reports of looting were not great—and not what I was most concerned about.
In these early moments, I had no desire to entertain anyone sharing news of these fires with glee, as if the lifelong Angelenos who lost their homes—homes that many of these Angelenos were only able to afford because they were passed down within their family for generations and who were not rich celebrities who could escape to their second or third home—had it coming. There’s a difference between those who lost a lot and those who lost everything. This past week, the latter outgrew the former. To these too-online hacks, all Angelenos are the same. I would say “fuck those people” but that would imply these people matter.
I get on my soapbox briefly because 1) this is my friendly warning to anyone I’m about to talk to in the next few weeks or months that, though of course you have the right to feel how you feel, I don’t have the energy to debate Los Angeles fire or water policies or politics with anyone who doesn’t live in Los Angeles or California. And 2) at this point throughout last Wednesday, all these feelings were rushing in and out and in again throughout my mind … because all this danger was so close to me, but not immediate. Again, LA is a strange sprawl; what looks like a neighboring community is still several dozens of miles away. I was stuck in this weird twilight zone of worry, in which I had all this time to think about how I was going to talk about these fires in the next few weeks instead of worrying about my physical safety. I was close enough to be a part of history and to be its witness but far away enough to pontificate one’s circumstance.
Then Wednesday evening came.
I was about to cook dinner. I went into my bedroom to grab my phone and respond to another friend’s text when outside my window, I noticed a flickering, orange-like light up in the hills. At first, I thought it was some kind of spotlight. The light was too large. It conveyed such a strange color that it could not come from any residential home. I kept looking. The spotlight’s shape started to morph, like a blob. It started to move. It started to move in different directions, like a child pulling apart some Play-Doh. Gushes of orange suddenly shot out from the center. Each gush expanded the size of the blob, which was now moving downhill. Quite quickly, too. It was getting larger and moving quicker.
It then hit me. I was seeing flames. I was seeing a wildfire. I was seeing a new wildfire. And it was just a handful of miles north of me.
I went numb for a few seconds. It felt like four hours.
This fire would soon be dubbed the Sunset fire. I would later learn that thankfully, this was a smaller fire compared to Palisades and Eaton, and the response would be swift thanks to the strongest winds finally calming down for a moment.
At this moment, in my room, I was not thinking of the size of this fire compared to Palisades and Eaton. I was thinking, “Fuck, a fire.” A small wildfire that you can see with your own eyes is still a wildfire. I had never seen one with my own eyes.
Time to leave.
Luckily I had already packed an emergency bag (if you’re curious, I based my packing on this list), so I had time to pack a second and smaller bookbag full of “nice to have” items, including the laptop where I’m able to write this newsletter. My roommate and I coordinated and confirmed our destination. We decided to drive separately south so that we each had our cars for future potential emergencies. We said goodbye, for now.
Traffic is usually bad in my area. We live within walking distance of a few popular museums and main street arteries, so there’s plenty of tourist foot traffic along with the usual LA blocks of stuck vehicles. For the first few miles, it felt like especially bad gridlock. Worse than usual. We were already too late to leave, I thought. Did everyone also see the Sunset fire and have the same thought to leave early to beat the traffic? (I would find out later that yes, this is what happened.) We were stuck. I was fielding more and more texts and calls, each more frantic than the last now with the new Sunset Fire officially hitting the news. Notifications from Watch Duty were not encouraging. We decided to avoid the freeways. What normally would have been an hour’s drive turned into two hours of snaking in and out of LA’s surface streets, which thankfully were not as congested once we got south of Jefferson Blvd.
A nervous drive turned into a nervously quiet drive. The streets were dead. Perhaps this was typical of a late Wednesday evening. It still adding to the sense that something was off. After an hour, we made it so far south that we couldn’t see the flames or any signs of bright orange light. We drove past streets blocked off by police. We drove past ambulances speeding into the opposite direction. We saw longer-than-usual lines at most gas stations. We saw taco trucks still open, even busy. We drove past a few car accidents. There was an especially bad one involving two cybertrucks with one’s windshield completely gone and one of the passengers still sitting in the car in a daze. Of all nights, this was not the night to require non-fire assistance from police who were already trying to help evacuate people. My route took past SpaceX’s massive headquarters in Torrance—an unexpected and absurd sight that made me laughed.
I drove past more accidents. I drove through more empty streets. And I kept driving. And driving. And driving. And driving. And driving. And driving. And driving. And driving. And driving …
… and I think that is enough to share for now. The rest of this week was spent down south, keeping track of Watch Duty, and taking it day by day. We’re encouraged by the current forecast as of this writing, which indicates that the winds will finally die down by the end of the week. I’ve been able to continue working from down here. Pending any horrific updates, next week’s newsletter should return to relative “normal” programming. We’ll see.
Thank you to everyone who reached out to check on me and anyone else in Los Angeles. Your “hey, just checking to make sure you’re OK” texts mean more than you may think. Even as someone who’s very lucky to (as of now) not be displaced and unrooted, I’m still wrapping my head around how the next few months will look and how quickly everything could fall apart. And again, I’m one of the lucky ones.
With love and all the other good things,
-b
Original OPE! logo by Claire Kuang. Words and cartoons by yours truly. Animations made using FlipaClip and EZGIF. My views don’t reflect my clients or the publications and brands I work with. All typos are intentional. Here’s my website and LinkedIn.
Welcome to OPE!, the weekly newsletter by writer and music journalist Brady Gerber. This is where I share my favorite (and new-to-me) songs and links, musings on life, and any other announcements. All typos are intentional.
Well, hello there. How are you?
Happy 2025. It’s good to be back. I hope y’all had a lovely end to the year. I hope you have much to look forward to in the new year.
Thank you to everyone who also checked in to make sure we’re OK. My area of Los Angeles is OK for now—we’re many miles inland and, as of this writing, away from the worst of the fires on the west side. But these winds are no joke, which is only making the fires worse. I sadly had a friend whose house burned down yesterday. Countless other homes are now gone too. This is heartbreaking no matter where this happens, and it’s especially surreal when the damage is so close to where you live and you now have to be ready to leave at any notice. These winds will remain strong for the rest of today; please keep LA in your thoughts throughout today.
Programming note: As of today, I added a new section to the paid section of this newsletter. Due to popular demand, each week, I’m highlighting the three most notable music industry news of the week. This is for all my fellow music nerds, current (or ex) music journalists, and anyone curious about the most important industry happenings that I often feel are being underreported, especially with all the journalist layoffs throughout the past few years. I hope y’all enjoy. Also, next week’s newsletter will go out on Tuesday, for reasons I will explain then.
But yes, the Golden Globes. I did not watch the show live, but I enjoyed Nikki Glaser’s opening monologue and saw most of the films that won. (You can check out the full list of winners here.) I’m not a big TV person, so I’m glad to know that Shogun and The Bear continue to be the only shows of 2024.
Aside from the designated “Musical or Comedy” categories that I don’t care about, the big music winners from Sunday were Emilia Perez’s “El Mal” (Best Song, Motion Picture) and the Challengers soundtrack (Best Score, Motion Picture).
Upon its initial release, I was lucky to see Emilia Perez in theatres in Los Angeles, and I hated it. I found it to be actively, aggressively bad. To be fair, I also have a love-hate relationship with most French cinema. I thought Anatomy of a Fall was the most overrated film of last year, yet I finally saw Beau Travail a few weeks ago and I think it’s one of the best things I’ve ever seen. It’s rare for me to think that a major French film is just OK. Emilia Perez is so distracting and all over the place that I can’t even over or underrate it.
Ironically, the music of this opera-based musical was the worst part of the movie. “El Mal” was the sole highlight, only because the specific scene is somewhat compelling within the context of the film. It’s the flashiest and shiniest moment. The Globes like shiny things. The song itself is just bad. It sounds like Nickleback trying to soundtrack a rap-rock Zoomer’s podcast intro music in choppy Spanish.
I’m happy at least for Zoe Saldana, who makes up for poor singing by being an excellent performer. I think she deserved her Globe. And this category’s competition wasn’t much to sing about either, so whatever.
As for Challengers: I have not seen the film in full yet. I’ve seen about 60% of it from watching other people’s airline screenings throughout all the flights I took last year. When I got to “that” scene that caused so much controversy among Twitter losers, I shook my head. If you think that scene is promiscuous and edgy, you need to leave your apartment.
But the soundtrack: It’s really great. It might be my favorite Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross score yet. You don’t need to see the film to enjoy it, though I’m sure it helps. Can’t recommend it highly enough.
In terms of the other category nominees, shout out to former Yuck frontman Daniel Blumberg for his excellent score for The Brutalist (a movie I finally saw and have conflicting feelings about) and Volker Bertelmann’s pretty good score for Conclave.
So yeah, go Reznor and Ross.
With love and all the other good things,
-b
Original OPE! logo by Claire Kuang. Words and cartoons by yours truly. Animations made using FlipaClip and EZGIF. My views don’t reflect my clients or the publications and brands I work with. All typos are intentional. Here’s my website and LinkedIn.
Welcome to the final newsletter of the year. No links or mixtape this week. If you haven’t already done so, I encourage you to check out last week’s newsletter regarding my favorite songs and albums from 2024.
Here are my seven favorite things from my own 2024, in no particular order. I say “my own 2024” because some of my favorite things didn’t come out in 2024. The book I enjoyed the most came out in 1966. My favorite film experience was watching a 1967 French film on a tiny screen on a regional plane while running on a few hours of sleep. Three of my “things” are not literal things. Life is weird sometimes.
I say this every year, but it’s worth saying again: My favorite things each year are the times I spend with family, friends, and loved ones. These are the works of art, pop culture artifacts, or general life events I enjoyed the most throughout 2024 and are more fun to write about. Ask me tomorrow, and this list might change.
Life is weird. A good life is still a life. Life is amazing. Here we go.
Metaphor ReFantazio
The best non-Final Fantasy RPG I’ve ever played. Ironic, since my previous choice was Persona 5 Royal, also made by Atlus. The best cast of characters and world-building of high-fantasy since Game of Thrones.
Los Angeles
This month marks the end of my first full calendar year of living in Los Angeles. Lots of highs. Lots of lows. Most importantly, all the middles are still lovely, and manageable. I’ve met a lot of wonderful people. I wish it weren’t so expensive, but who doesn’t? Still happy to be here.
Le Samouraï
Jean-Pierre Melville’s quasi-French New Wave classic has been on my to-watch list for years. Finally watched it. Yes. It’s as good as they say.
Tubi
The dad rock of streaming services. Tubi!
Finally finding and (mostly) maintaining a (mostly) healthy diet
Instead of avoiding bad foods and treating food like a sin to disavow, I now actively seek good foods. I mostly stick to lean proteins, fruits, and veggies that my great-grandma would know to be food; she was probably not up to speed on Flamin Hot Cheetos or Mountain Dew. The rare times I drink, I trade dark alcohol for light alcohol, red wine excluded. I don’t treat the occasional bad meal like the end of the world, or even an excuse to make my next meal “bad.” As someone who hates dieting, it is possible to make and maintain the change.
Finishing my latest book proposal
This was my big writing project for 2024. Very happy to finish it. Shout out to James, Bob, and Eric for the wonderful early feedback. I’ve already started on my big writing project for 2025 … stay tuned.
Bobby Fisher Teaches Chess
One of the best books I’ve ever read. It’s never too late to learn, or get better at, something new.
Happy 2024, y’all.
See you in January.
With love and all the other good things,
-b
This essay was edited from its original version, first published through my OPE!newsletter. Original OPE! logo by Claire Kuang. Words and cartoons by yours truly. Animations made using FlipaClip and EZGIF. My views don’t reflect my clients or the publications and brands I work with. All typos are intentional.
Programming note: Next week is the last OPE! of 2024, and I’ll be bringing back my tradition of the seven favorite “things” list. This is my excuse to talk about all the non-music things that I loved throughout 2024. I’ll aim to send the first OPE! of 2025 on January 8th.
Also, a delayed plug related to today: For Pitchfork, I wrote about Nia Archives for their list of the 100 best songs of 2024. I wrote about “Silence is Loud,” which is #54. I’ll talk more about Nia later in this newsletter.
And now, it’s time to (sort of) say goodbye to music in 2024.
My usual links are still below, but instead of this week’s mixtape (for paid subscribers), I present my list of the songs and albums I loved the most throughout this year.
My usual rules apply. I don’t spotlight any specific songs if they appear on my top albums list; I’m allowed to break this rule once. These songs and albums are in order, but my love for my ninth favorite song and my fourth favorite song is minimal. Everything here is worth your time. Ask me tomorrow, and this list will probably change. And yes: I do listen to rap, jazz, R&B, and electronic music. This is just a list of my comfort foods, which happens to be full of guitar rock.
Let’s begin.
SONGS
10: Julianna Riolino w/ Adrian Underhill – “Against the Grain”
Folks, Julianna is still criminally underrated. When I reviewed her last album for Pitchfork a few years ago, I described her sound as Dolly Parton hanging out in Laurel Canyon in 1972. “Against the Grain” still hits that mark and more.
9: Liquid Mike – “American Caveman”
No amount of $14 Los Angeles gluten-free mushroom sweet tea lattes can ever take the Midwest bro out of me. I wish Wayne and Garth were around for this excellent harmonica breakdown.
8: Maggie Rogers – “So Sick of Dreaming”
I was disappointed with Maggie’s latest album, but I’m still rooting for her. She’s the only notable pop artist channeling Fleetwood Mac and getting away with it. Put “So Sick of Dreaming” on her eventual greatest hits and move on.
7: Green Day – “1981”
This is my nostalgia pick. I also interviewed Billie Joe Armstrong earlier this year, which was fun. Still, “1981” is a fun blast of silly, pop-punk that could have been on American Idiot.
6: Johnny Blue Skies – “Right Kind of Dream”
This is the most I’ve enjoyed Sturgill Simpson in years. Who knew country artist pivoting to Arcade Fire’s debut album was a smart career move?
5: Nia Archives – “Silence is Loud”
Britpop is no longer a dirty word! Expanding upon my Pitchfork blurb for “Silence is Loud,” I think this track is a kick in the head in the best way possible. I talk about Nia more in the Oasis and Britpop feature I wrote for The Ringer earlier this year, which might be my favorite thing I published this year. I wish the rest of Nia’s album was memorable, but I’m walking away from 2024 feeling the most excited to hear what she does next.
4: Waxahatchee – “Right Back to It (ft. MJ Lenderman)”
I’m in the minority of not liking Waxahatchee’s latest album—it sounds like she wrote and recorded most of it in her sleep—but “Right Back to It” is everything I want in an indie folk-rock ballad. That banjo sounds glorious.
3: Eddie Vedder – “Save It For Later”
Vedder’s cover of The English Beat’s new wave anthem, which he recorded for the third season of The Bear, is probably the song I listened to the most this year. This is the best he’s sounded in years. The guitars and piano remind me of the best memories of a city I used to live in. Good lord.
2: Chappell Roan – “Good Luck, Babe!”
It’s rare when one of the biggest hits of the year also happens to be a song I genuinely love. Poptimism continues to eat its own, but at least Roan had time to sneak in a new classic.
1: Daryl Johns – “I’m So Serious”
This is my rule breaker. Daryl Johns’s debut LP is my MVP of the year, and “I’m So Serious” is my favorite song of the year, by a mile. “I’m So Serious” is everything I want in a guitar-pop song. It’s perfect. Its melodies are perfect. Its harmonies are perfect. Its “slowed” YouTube remix (also linked below) is perfect. It’s the best Replacements song not written by Paul Westerberg. More importantly, “I’m So Serious” makes me feel happy to be alive. What more do you want?
ALBUMS
10: mk.gee – Two Star & the Dream Police
This album would probably be higher on my list if I spent more time with it, but I’m glad we now have a legitimate heir to Bon Iver’s throne.
9: A.G. Cook – Britpop
If you’re burned out on Brat but still crave an album with similar style and energy, may I introduce you to Charli’s go-to producer’s latest album that … I bet will be considered a classic in a few years.
8: Cindy Lee – Diamond Jubilee
An album I respect more than I like. Still, I’m pretty blown away by how many folks have checked out Cindy Lee’s album and taken the time to enjoy its chaotic two hours in one setting. It’s easy to be all doomsday about the value of music in 2024 and how music journalism has been reduced to, “Crazy how [inset lame ‘70s or ‘80s or ‘90s or ‘00 or ‘10 song] is blowing up on TikTok,” but Diamond Jubilee’s success is a counterpoint that most people still crave excellent works of singular art. The album ain’t dead yet, folks.
7: Adrianne Lenker – Bright Future
You know an album is strong when someone like me, who remains allergic to Big Thief, recommends it. What a lovely, gentle album. It sounds even better in these holiday-filled days of winter.
6: Daryl Johns – Daryl Johns
I already gushed enough about “I’m So Serious,” which is the best song off Daryl’s debut LP. The rest is still interesting, from opening with two instrumental tracks (bold move!) to a cutesy cover of Mac DeMarco’s “Let Her Go.” This album deserves 10 million more streams.
5: Paul McCartney & Wings – One Hand Clapping
What a gift, though this counts as a technicality. One Hand Clapping was a long-lost Wings live bootleg recorded in 1974 which finally got an official release this year. Not only is this Wings’ best album, it’s my favorite solo McCartney release. The 2024 remix sounds phenomenal and kicked off a big Paul year for me, which was delightful. If you’ve ever been curious about Wings, this is the place to start.
4: Charli XCX – Brat
Brat is an A- album with A+ presentation. Writing about this album post-election, Brat now feels like the pinnacle and last gasp of the first half of 2020s leftwing Internet cool before we enter uncharted territories under Trump 2.0 which is already populated by the Internet’s new main characters, not unlike how David Bowie’s Blackstar, and his passing in early 2016, now feels like a warning shot of how our understanding of pop culture and fandom was about to change forever. I just wrote a very bratty (ha), pretentious sentence, and I may be giving my corner of music critic Twitter (now Bluesky—I’m on both) too much credit. But still. Brat is easily the most 2024 album of 2024, the time capsule that evokes pretty much the entire year in pop culture, for better or worse. It’s mostly for the better. Many relistens later, Brat is still a great album that sounds strong removed from its self-sustaining mythology.
3: Wishy – Triple Seven
Wishy are rare repeaters in my end-of-year lists! Triple Seven took everything wonderful about last year’s EP, which I still love, and blew them up to IMax proportions on their debut LP. Every time I listen, I have a new favorite song. All the guitars throughout are stunning. It’s the shoegaze-lite gift that kept on giving in a year full of shit shoegaze.
2: MJ Lenderman – Manning Fireworks
In a non-Daryl Johns year, “She’s Leaving You” is my number-one song of the year. “Vegas is beautiful at night / And it’s not about the money / You just like the lights“ is my lyric of 2024. It’s Lenderman’s delivery of such a curious set of words that won me over after a few years of not enjoying his previous albums. The rest of Manning Fireworks is stunning too, even with some of its eye-rolling lyrical ironies that drove my fellow critics crazy; in 2024, Lenderman bros were just as insufferable as Brat bros or Rogan bros. Still. This is the album I’ve listened to and thought about the most this year. It will sound just as good in 2025.
1: Vampire Weekend – Only God Was Above Us
I love Only God Was Above Us so, so much. I love how wonderfully out-of-time it feels, with its nostalgic misremembering of the city most associated with them, made by musicians who have not lived in that city for a long time, which, as a fellow former New Yorker who now lives in Los Angeles, I can relate to. I love every song individually and how they come together like technicolor puzzle pieces, like trying to put together the old home videos of your youth. I love that I keep discovering new sounds and feelings with each relisten. I love that, as a longtime Vampire Weekend fan, I’ve gotten to grow up and grow old alongside a band that, with each album, continues to act their age. I love that Ezra Koenig now embraces distortion pedals. I love that the songwriting feels out of step with the rest of popular or even hip music in 2024 and is instead patient and willing to go down some windy roads. I am probably the most stereotypical Vampire Weekend fan, and I accept it. I love Only God Was Above Us.
Happy 2024, y’all.
With love and all the other good things,
-b
This essay was edited from its original version, first published through my OPE!newsletter. Original OPE! logo by Claire Kuang. Words and cartoons by yours truly. Animations made using FlipaClip and EZGIF. My views don’t reflect my clients or the publications and brands I work with. All typos are intentional.
I’m a writer on the autism spectrum, though I rarely write about it in this newsletter or for any of my freelance publications. I have my own reasons for not writing about it much in public. I made an exception a few years ago when for New York Magazine, I wrote about being a culture critic on the spectrum and watching pop culture’s promising yet slow evolution of more nuanced depictions of autism, specifically for adults on the spectrum, and the thorny push-and-pull between the quiet power of popular works of art that helps us gain empathy (aka the ideal kind of representation that adds much to everyone and doesn’t take away anything from anybody) versus the dangers and lingering effects of misguided, or just straight-up lazy or mean-spirited, depictions of historically not-well-treated folks (aka fuck Rain Man, even though I understand why it was made and why it felt groundbreaking at the time). I won’t rehash all those points here; here’s my feature link if you’d like to read all my thoughts on these topics.
I’m bringing all this up because Trump recently-ish announced his nomination of Robert F. Kennedy Jr. to head the Health and Human Services. It’s freaking me out in a way I was not expecting. And I felt stuck. I didn’t know how to write about it. Until now, I think.
In general, I don’t talk about politics too much in this music-focused newsletter. I think most of you can guess where I land on Trump—essentially, I’m not anti-conservative, but I roll my eyes at MAGA. Yet there’s a difference between “I’m apolitical” vs “I pick and choose the hills I die on.” I subscribe to the latter. Autism and disabilities are some of those hills. And I bring up ASAN (the Autistic Self Advocacy Network) because their official statement from last week summed up everything I wanted to say about RFKJ’s potential impact and the complicated, mostly thorny baggage that comes from a man whom I would describe as a villain of folks in my world (a comparison that makes more sense after reading the ASAN link).
It’s a doom and gloom feeling that I’ve had for many years and which have really crystalized in the past few weeks. It’s something I still struggle to talk about with other people, especially my friends and family who might mean well yet don’t seem as interested in my corner of the autism world that doesn’t directly affect them. (It’s the same problem of indifference that gets in the way of most progress: If it’s not my problem, it’s not a problem.) Ever since the outcome of this most recent election, I was getting nervous, because I felt stuck not knowing how to talk, or even write about, this election and how much I’ve been freaking out over a very hyper-specific reason, and in a way I think would feel most effective and processed. Now, I’m thankful to ASAN for creating a handy link that is easy to share. (ASAN usually does good work; I highly recommend their newsletter if you’re curious to learn about the biggest news and updates related to this world.) It feels like a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders. And now the best thing I can do right now is to pass along the right message that doesn’t need more words from me.
I do plan on writing more about autism in the future. For now, if you care at all about what I’m about, and I’m assuming you at least are curious about my thoughts—though I also like the idea of someone hate-subscribing to OPE!—I highly encourage you to check out the statement and keep these thoughts in mind as we see if this nomination goes through. I have no illusion that sharing these words will stop the nomination, and I have no interest in changing your mind if you’re not open to reconsidering any preconceived notions. However, I do ask for your time and attention; I take your time and attention seriously, so I hope you return the favor.
Thank you again for reading, and again, happy Thanksgiving.
With love and all the other good things,
-b
This essay was edited from its original version, first published through my OPE!newsletter. Original OPE! logo by Claire Kuang. Words and cartoons by yours truly. Animations made using FlipaClip and EZGIF. My views don’t reflect my clients or the publications and brands I work with. All typos are intentional.
