The ongoing appreciation of pop culture, and specifically pop music, and the appreciation's relationship to nostalgic impulse are interesting. Over time, why does a person return to the forms and expressions—of some, not all examples—of an earlier time with renewed appreciation? Is it because some thing essential to the form and expression is valued, or is it because the thing triggers or recalls, however imperfectly, a remembrance that is valued?
My opinion is that the mature and discerning listener continues to find some thing of essential value in the given artifact, which I probably hold to because this opinion props up my claim to being objective about the appreciation.
Whatever, huh.
I continue to really enjoy the music of China Crisis, a little-known English pop band from the 1980s. I acknowledge that their forms and expressions are relatively light-weight, which is precisely at the heart of why I enjoy them. Can I claim that their music is optimistic, hopeful, even charitable—essentially? Or does their music recall a time in my life that memory has made happy? The 1980s were not exactly happy times, but there is a lot of 80s music that has a bouncy, blithe appeal. This band represents one of my favorite styles from the period.
Beachcombing
I am a lifelong listener, patient and careful, but still mostly an amateur regarding the art of jazz music. Among the sustaining satisfactions of appreciating an art form is discovery of personal favorites, especially those beyond reach of introductions and surveys. For example, my appreciation of the pianist Steve Kuhn (b. 1938.) Kuhn played with major figures (Dorham, Coltrane, Getz) early in his career, but I first discovered him as a leader on ECM dates. I like to think that anyone can find Art Tatum or McCoy Tyner or, if more than a little initiated, Jaki Byard or Fred Hersch. But even more work is required to find players such as Richie Beirach or Steve Kuhn. My recommendation here was triggered by the purchase of Kuhn's Seasons of Romance from 1995, a lively disc of alternating trio and quartet settings. Each listening reveals new pleasure.
M. D. E. S. P.
Among the really good things not discovered until my fifties, along with gin and tonic and Marylynne Robinson's writing, is Miles Davis' E.S.P. This album from 1965 by the classic quintet has a magisterial, autumnal gestalt—the whole being greater than the sum of its parts, although Wayne Shorter's "E.S.P." and "Iris" are parts not to be missed. Is Shorter the iconic saxophonist of the 60s, even moreso than John Coltrane? Consider Shorter's solo stuff on Blue Note and his sideman work with both Art Blakey's and Miles Davis' groups.
Helpful reads
Is there a theme to this collection? Maybe the selections are gathered around concepts of the second great commandment: to love my neighbor.
Tattoos on the Heart, Gregory Boyle. (Free Press, 2010)
Ill Fares the Land, Tony Judt. (The Penguin Press, 2010)
Help: The Original Human Dilemma, Garret Keizer. (HarperCollins, 2004)
The Illustrated Screwtape Letters, C. S. Lewis. (HarperOne, 1942/1979)
Gilead, Marilynne Robinson. (Picador, 2004)