There's always a reason not to buy the ticket.
Whether you're the artist or the appreciator, being creative may be the most radical thing now.
Have you heard about the new AI pop star? I had not. Her name is Anna Indiana, and she has a song. Of course, when I read this news, I played it immediately. It’s as earthshakingly terrible as you might think, starting out kinda simple and innocent, ending with tearing down the fabric of society. I don’t have to draw any lines for you here.
I teach my students how to use AI tools. AI will be part of all our work worlds soon if not already and I want them to know how they work, how to use rather than be used. But that doesn’t mean they’re good for us wholesale.
In fact, it seems like an act of rebellion just to do an analog thing now. To linger over the physical page of a book. To write something that is complex and respectful of a reader’s intellect. To think critically in conversation as we disagree with someone we care about. To listen to music where you can hear the squeak of strings, the songwriter clearing her throat, the joke tossed back to the drummer before he counts off.
Not long ago, I saw a live show at one of my city’s best venues, xBk, a place where you really feel like you’re in the room with the artist. In fact, I was just there last night, listening to my friend Boonie who plays bass in Bellyard. As is the way in Des Moines, you’ll always see someone you know at the bar.
I like this type of venue best. Festivals have started to feel like feats of strength, what with the food lines and the dehydration and that one kid who’s vomiting over by the honey buckets. But a smallish club—one with the option of seats—that’s where it’s at now. You get to see the details of the cool outfits (shout-out Nikki Lane’s vintage embroidered jumpsuit and Jaime Wyatt’s full-length fur—with boots and hats, of course). Sometimes the vibe is so good it changes the weather, like when Texas was in draught then Ha Ha Tonka took the stage in Austin and the skies poured rain. You establish a particular kind of one-sided relationship when you catch a club act again and again. I’ve seen the Old 97s when I was wild enough to join them on the tour bus, when I was pregnant at Bumbershoot and my spouse fed me snacks throughout the show, and countless times since. I do find comfort in the unchanged nature of Rhett Miller’s hair.
But when David Ramirez played xBk last year, he brought the kind of live show that felt less like comfort, more like church. Maybe it was the lyrics, or the mood I was in, or maybe he’s a magician under that Adidas track suit. I felt taken apart and put back together when it was all over.
There’s always a reason not to buy that ticket. You’re tired at night. You’re busy and overwhelmed. The price feels steep. Maybe you’re not sure if you’ll like the band. But I’ve never once regretted going out to a small venue—I’ve often liked the opener even more than the main act. It’s how I came to know Nikki Lane in the first place (she opened for Band of Horses), and The Lone Bellow (opening for Brandi Carlisle), and it’s why I’m listening to Leyla McCalla (Jason Isbell) as I write this. Worth it every time.
In my Analog Mix Tape this week, I spent some time talking to my friend about live music we’ve seen, and will continue to see, because it’s restorative, and, for a changing cast of reasons over the decades, it’s also felt like a rebellion against bullshit in general. What gets passed off to us as art, or aspiration, and leaves us feeling nothing at all.
You’ll also get more music recommendations, and a nudge to check out a live show if you haven’t done that for a while, or maybe ever.
Happy almost-weekend.
Press play on this week’s Analog Mix Tape! We sat down to figure out the studio controls and whoop—this! I doubt it will ever be this easy again, but that’s what 25 years of friendship will do for you.
Also jealous that Inman has seen Margo Price and I have not yet.
Ha Ha Tonka made it rain!