Book Review: Alan McGee- How to Run an Indie Label

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

I’m always down for tales involving independent record label music distributors. I tore through Alan McGee’s over-the-top How to Run an Indie Label after happening upon the 2024 memoir on the new release shelf at a library.

The 2024 memoir by the co-founder of Creation Records is a bit of a mess. Seemingly transcribed rather than written, the 300 pages are engaging in spite of intermittent repetition and occasional typos. The title of the Scottish punk provocateur’s book is presumably meant to be ironic in spite of dizzying success he achieved with Oasis.

The music associated with Britpop is one of my biggest blindspots. What little of bands like Blur, Oasis and Suede I’ve heard never did much for me. Reading between the lines, McGee doesn’t really care for those sounds either. On a related note, neither of us can muster enthusiasm for the Foo Fighters. 

The account of the heyday of Creation Records is the least compelling portion of How to Run an Indie Label. Most readers will derive more pleasure from McGee’s insider gossip about the Libertines, My Bloody Valentine and the Jesus and Mary Chain.

I’m grateful to McGee for reminding me about excellent outsider bands like Television Personalities. Better yet, he turned me on to Kevin Rowland’s astounding 1999 covers album My Beauty. Rowland’s queasy version of the Hollies’ "I Can't Tell the Bottom From the Top" reflects my estimation of How to Run an Indie Label.

Album Review: Nels Cline- Consentrik Quartet

Start here. That’s what I’m now able to tell people who ask for an entry point into the avant-jazz that constitutes a large part of my music consumption. Suggesting Nels Cline’s new album Consentrik Quartet is an ideal gateway for beginners isn’t intended as an insult. A sturdy bridge between uncompromising indie-rock and skronky free jazz, Consentrik Quartet will almost certainly stand as one of the most consequential albums of 2025. It doesn’t hurt that it possesses the caché of the Blue Note Records imprint. Furthermore, Cline is already known as Wilco’s freaky guitarist. When I heard saxophonist Ingrid Laubrock and drummer Tom Rainey perform in 2014 I never imagined they’d play with the relatively conventional finesse they display on "Down Close". Bassist Chris Lightcap connects the two realms on tracks like "The 23". The second step for neophytes is more imposing. Released the same day at Consentrik Quartet, the Erik Satie-influenced dissonance Sylvie Courvoisier and Mary Halvorson showcase on the brilliant Bone Bells is going to be a tougher sell.

Dear Diary

Original image of the Branford Marsalis Quartet at the Folly Theater by There Stands the Glass.

Monitoring social media missives from colleagues attending last week’s SXSW conference and Luck Reunion celebration in Texas made me blue. Rather than continuing to sulk, I crafted a plan for a full day of music in the Kansas City area on Saturday, March 15. A betrayal by the Kansas City Symphony tripped me up from the outset. 

I intended to begin my spree with oboist Kristina Fulton’s 11 a.m. master class at Helzberg Hall. The event was listed on the Symphony’s site the previous day, but every door of the Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts was locked when I circumnavigated the building on Saturday morning.

With my carefully calibrated schedule immediately out of whack, I began improvising. I hit Dawson Jones’ matinee at Green Lady Lounge two hours earlier than intended. While I loved it, I was unwilling to stick around for Rod Fleeman’s subsequent first set as originally planned. Annoyed, I ate lunch at home while watching televised college basketball. 

I’d intended to walk to a youth concert at a church presented by The Friends of Chamber Music and from there to Made in France’s gig at a nearby café, but it suddenly occurred to me that I might purchase a discounted ticket to the Big 12 Conference men’s basketball championship game at the T-Mobile Center rather than sticking to that plan.

After pulling the trigger on an all-in $21 ticket, I returned to downtown to see Houston take on Arizona. My assigned seat placed me amid Arizona boosters. Those are not my people. I felt at home after sneaking across the arena to embed myself three rows behind Houston’s pep band.

Unfortunately, I was compelled to leave the close contest with five minutes left on the game clock. (The good guys won.) Several months ago I bought a front-and-center ticket to a concert by the Branford Marsalis Quartet for $43. I didn’t dare miss a minute. Cold rain soaked my feet as I hustled from the T-Mobile Center to the Folly Theater.

The jazz notables met but did not exceed my high expectations. DJ Diesel’s free outdoor show at the KC Live complex was supposed to wrap up my big day out. Imagine my disappointment upon discovering heavy snow as I exited the Folly Theater! Just as my hopes were dashed ten hours earlier, my day ended with an unexpected letdown.

Phonograph Blues

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

After setting aside favorite albums by the likes of Elton John and Dionne Warwick, a nonagenarian generously bequeathed the remainder of what he calls his collection of “phonograph records” to me a few days ago. The allotment provided me with insights into his generation. For instance, I’d always wondered about the origin of the gazillions of Jonah Jones albums clogging record star dollar bins. And I’m impressed that he and his peers bought lots of serious and  crossover classical releases. The best of the batch, however, is a result of regionalism. Based on autograph inscriptions, it’s clear that attendance of performances led to purchases of albums by area mainstays like Marilyn Maye, Jay McShann and Lee Stoneking. I’m honored to make a place for these phonographs in my home.

“Opera” Review: The Lyric Opera of Kansas City’s Cruzar la Cara de la Luna with Mariachi los Camperos at Muriel Kauffman Theatre

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

The first perfect day of 2025 in the Kansas City area presented an ideal opportunity to collect the leaves that had accumulated over the winter and to trim foliage ahead of the spring bloom. I decided to go to the opera on Sunday, March 9, only when I unexpectedly ran out of lawn bags.

After filling the last of my remaining supply of ten bags at 1 p.m. I shrugged, took a shower, got dressed, drove to the Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts, bought the least expensive ticket ($40) amid the audience of more than 1,000 and was in my seat ten minutes ahead of the 2 p.m. start time for Lyric Opera of Kansas City’s production of “Cruzar la Cara de la Luna.”

The work debuted by Houston Opera in 2011 is billed as “the world’s first mariachi opera.” The designation is ridiculous. “Cruzar la Cara de la Luna” isn’t an opera- it’s a musical through-and-through. The good: a compelling story, a dazzling butterfly effect, the incredible playing of the 13-piece Mariachi Los Camperos and "Di mi nombre", the musical’s best song. The bad: wooden dialogue and spotty acting.

Impulsively attending “Cruzar la Cara de la Luna” was just a continuation of a live music binge. I’ve attended ten performances in the last twelve days. And there are several things I hope to catch this week. My disappointment in “Cruzar la Cara de la Luna” indicates that maybe it’s time to give it rest. Besides, I’m not even halfway through with the leaves.

Sweatin' to the Oldies

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

I was disappointed when an elegant forty-year-old woman walked into Polsky Theatre on Monday, March 3. Prior to her entrance, I was a contender for the youngest person in the audience of about 125. The piano duo of Jeffrey and Karen Savage performed impressionist works by composers including Claude Debussy and Isaac Albéniz at the free noon recital using the unfortunate moniker 88 Squared. As the youngest person in the room busied herself with a to-do list, a few geezers seated near me napped. I’m not mocking them- I aspire to their refusal to stay home in their eighties. A transcription of a slightly dissonant composition by the Savages’ UMKC colleague Sean Chen was balanced by an unsuitable medley of songs from The Wizard of Oz. Only then did I feel as if I were confined to a dreary nursing home.

February 2025 Recap: A Monthly Exercise in Critical Transparency

Screenshot of the trailer for La Monnaie’s production of Richard Wagner’s Götterdämmerung by There Stands the Glass.

The Top Ten Albums of February 2025
1. James Brandon Lewis- Apple Cores
Golden delicious.

2. John Glacier- Like a Ribbon
Knotty.

3. Maruja- Tír na nÓg
My review.

4. Kelela- In The Blue Light
Radiant.

5. Larry June, 2 Chainz and the Alchemist- Life Is Beautiful
It’s also quite funny.

6. María Dueñas- 24 Caprices by Paganini
Fiddle.

7. Frieder Bernius und the Kammerchor Stuttgart- Louis Spohr: Des Heilands letzte Stunden, Passionsoratorium
A post-Bach Passion.

8. Oren Ambarchi and Eric Thielemans- Kind Regards
A farewell trip.

9. Horsegirl- Phonetics On and On
My review.

10. Damon Locks- List of Demands
Urgent.

The Top Three Reissues, Repackagings and Reimaginings of February 2025
1. Strata-East: The Legacy Begins
A pivotal digital holdout relents.

2. Joe Ely- Love and Freedom
Previously unreleased gems.

3. Ella Fitzgerald- The Moment of Truth: Ella at the Coliseum
Energetic 1967 concert.

The Top Ten Songs of February 2025
1. Mekons- "War Economy"
Moral deficit.

2. Mackenzie Carpenter featuring Midland- "I Wish You Would"
Back to the barrooms.

3. Natti Natasha featuring Ozuna- “Ya No Comparto”
Not sharing.

4. J Noa and Lowlight- "Traficando Rap"
Atención!

5. The Popper featuring Tech N9ne, KStylis and Zaytoven- "Dumb Booty"
Landmark that!

6. Terrace Martin featuring Ogi- "Not Sharing"
Sound of Crenshaw.

7. Gucci Mane- "Preference"
Choice.

8. Saya Gray- “Thus Is Why (I Don’t Spring 4 Love)”
Perfect pop (4 2025).

9. Lonnie Holley- "That's Not Art, That's Not Music"
People tell me this all too often.

10. Okanski- "October"
Bewitching.

The Top Ten Performances of February 2025
1. The Gesualdo Six at Village Presbyterian Church
My Instagram clip.

2. Nikolai Lugansky at the Folly Theater
My Instagram snapshot.

3. Isaiah Collier at the Old Church (Portland)
My review.

4. Deborah Brown and George Colligan at Upcycle Piano Craft
My Instagram clip.

5. David Finckel and Wu Han at the Old Church (Portland)
My Instagram snapshot.

6. Sarah Ghazal Ali at Arrupe Hall
My Instagram snapshot.

7. Aaron Sizemore, Forest Stewart and Mike Warren at the Music House
My Instagram clip.

8. Made in France at the Market at Meadowbrook
My Instagram clip.

9. Josiah Austin at the Portland International Airport
My Instagram clip.

10. Cesar Rosas and the Chi-Town Playboys at the Folly Theater
My review.

The previous monthly recap is here.

Album Review: Maruja- Tir na nÓg

Ever since my ears were damaged at a Mogwai concert in 2001, I’ve shied away from bands specializing in colossal post-punk instrumentals. It’s not surprising, consequently, that I’d missed out on Maruja until now. I’m led to believe the new 22-minute Tir na nÓg is the first time the British band has fully embraced a free jazz attack. The brutal improvisations on Tir na nÓg are the liberating sounds I’ve long heard in my occasional dreams about vigorous jazz of the future. I’m suddenly willing to endure hearing loss.

Album Review: Tim Berne- Yikes Too

I’m attempting to maintain a modicum of sanity amid the onslaught of unthinkable global events. Unsurprisingly, much of my treatment plan involves music therapy. I turn to instrumental skronk when visceral release is essential but the shouts of punks and the growls of metalheads are likely to miss the mark. Yikes Too has proven to be especially efficacious medication in recent days. The trio of saxophonist Tim Berne, guitarist Gregg Belisle-Chi and drummer Tom Rainey rage on appropriately titled tracks like “Trauma” and “Sludge”. At 136 minutes, the live and studio recordings from 2024 act as potent dosage capable of temporarily counteracting discouraging reality.

Album Review: Horsegirl- Phonetics On and On

Succumbing to nostalgia is just as dangerous as playing Russian roulette. I’ve always known that allowing myself to wonder if things were better “back then” would automatically hasten my demise.

I was gratified, consequently, at my revulsion upon revisiting R.E.M.’s debut album for the first time in more than a decade last month. I once savored Murmur. Having fully absorbed it in the 1980s, the album annoys me in 2025.

Imagine my surprise at my instant adoration of Horsegirl’s evocation of Reagan-era indie-rock on its new album Phonetics On and On. My long-suppressed affection for slightly twee bands like Camper van Beethoven, the dBs, the Feelies, Let’s Active, the Windbreakers came rushing back to me.

Now I’ve done it. This post serves as an inadvertent invitation for death to come a-knockin’. And when he arrives, I suspect he’ll be wearing a Horsegirls t-shirt.