24

Greetings, my friends. Happy New Year, MLK Day, and Valentines to boot. 

I made this playlist to stay inspired in the year ahead, which let’s face it, promises some pressures. It will be easy to feel queasy as the 2024 election nears. There will be forces trying to cleave us from one another. But our response to this inevitability doesn’t have to be acceptance. I am constantly reminded of Mr. Rogers’ advice that whenever tragedy occurs, “look for the helpers,” and that’s my plan for the coming year. Focus on the people trying to fix our problems by doing their jobs, not the perpetrators incentivized for whatever reason to promote human fracking. For me this means celebrating people like Ruby Freeman and Shaye Moss, the iconic mother-daughter election workers in Georgia. Or Tony, our mechanic at Northboro Car Care, who always explains what’s wrong with our cars and gives us a fair price. Or the staff at my school. Just regular people who show up day after day to cultivate community. My mantra for 2024 is to seek the light and to share my own: B the light, C the light.

There are three Ben Folds songs on this list from his latest album, What Matters Most. I think he captures our cultural moment. What other songwriter considers storage spaces in one breathe, before asking Do you still believe in the good of humankind? in the next? (And weighs in before you can even respond.) Then there’s a couple Tony Stiker numbers because, well, shouldn’t there be? “Lantern Waltz” reminds me of my wedding day, when Tony and Peter DuCharme performed it, so it’s loaded with happy juju for Jena and me. And “Fireflies” is another sweet song about light and hope and setting up a life. Speaking of DuCharme, his song “Blaze of Radiance” came out last year and proves that A.I. in the right hands can be a force for creative magic. You’ve got a pair of Beatles songs, one interpreted by Nina Simone, as well as a solo Lennon classic about how we all shine on. A few songs come out of the Christian tradition but they could equally have been sung by the Buddha or any of the other holy helpers. Besides light, a few other themes that emerge from this batch of songs are the importance of music and melody, the gift of using our collective hands to rebuild, and simply getting in the mood. The Glenn Miller “In the Mood” puts a smile on my face every time I hear it. I imagine couples kissing in public spaces at the end of the war. Hopefully you too will see lots of kisses, glow worms, and radiant light as you orbit the sun this year. I do.

This list is dedicated to two precious people who departed in 2023. Gary Smith was an architect of human potential, a true community organizer. He took the band I was part of in the early 90s, Apollo Landing, under his wing, scoring us a record deal with a British label, managing us, and producing a bunch of our songs at his studio, Fort Apache. He was a whirlwind of ideas and connections, a bon vivant. I was also lucky enough to serve as his gopher at Fort Apache as his management career took flight. Although our band ultimately didn’t break through, I will always appreciate the world he opened to us. His obituary hints at the scope of his extraordinary life.

The other is Jenny Kuhla, the singer and heart of Apollo Landing. Such a creative soul, such a smart and silly comrade. We were housemates at Tufts before we played together, but from the beginning of our friendship I knew she was the real deal, an artist brimming with ideas. Although she studied painting and photography, she was an equally strong writer and then songwriter. The nights we practiced and wrote at the Sound Museum in Boston, and playing behind her at our gigs (especially at the Middle East in Cambridge) are among my happiest memories. I remember the night I hit a raccoon on I-95 driving the band home from a late show at Club Babyhead in Providence, feeling terrible about it and then, when the song “Rocky Raccoon” came on the radio, how Jenny broke into hysterics. I remember us all skinny dipping in Walden Pond, maintaining generous personal bubbles. When Apollo folded, Jenny and I went separate ways, she to Georgia, me to Cameroon and then California. But we both ended up teaching. I bet she was really, really good at it because she made you feel important, like whatever your were working on mattered. I bet she made a lot of hilarious points too.

So the song “Son of God” is on the list for Jenny and Gary. Driving into the sun.

B the light, C the light.