"Creating People On Whom Nothing is Lost" - An educator and writer in Colorado offers insight and perspective on education, parenting, politics, pop culture, and contemporary American life.
Disclaimer - The views expressed on this site are my own and do not represent the views of my employer.
A recent op-ed in the Wall Street Journal suggests "When anyone can produce passable work, real talent becomes more readily apparent than ever." Thus, AI, rather than destroying or replacing human creativity, is actually a gift to the real creative people and innovators in society.
As Oscar contenders like “The Brutalist” deploy artificial intelligence to perfect foreign accents and AI-generated country tracks top the charts, anxiety is roiling the creative community. Fear mongers warn that AI will hollow out artistic expression, de-skill entire professions, and damage our capacity for original thought. It won’t. AI is ultimately a boon for creativity.
True, AI can finish work by itself without an artist, but that affects the volume of output more than the nature of human creativity. AI relieves humans not of creativity but of drudgery—the rote, time-consuming tasks that have always consumed more human energy than inspiration ever did. Artists have never defined themselves by their use of certain tools, but by what they do with them.
2025 was truly the year of AI, almost reminiscent of the date August 4, 1997 in The Terminator when Skynet, the artificial intelligence system that ultimately takes over the world, officially went online, kicking off the rapid march to machines' dominance over man. And, honestly, no one knows better the seeming instantaneous omnipresence of "everyone using AI" than teachers at nearly all levels, from elementary school to graduate programs. A quick scan of social media -- or "Teacher Twitter" -- will reveal all manner of requests, rants, and ramblings about how to address the use of AI. For writing teachers especially, it seems like a return to handwritten in-class assignments is one key response.
And, in terms of creativity, I would tend to agree with the Wall Street Journal article that when everyone is using AI to create, the landscape will take on such an obvious tech-induced/influenced style that the truly innovative and creative people will be able to stand out. As I noted in a piece on AI yesterday, I maintain that while humans were able to conceive of, envision, and create artificial intelligence, AI would never have been able to conceive of humans.
No matter how "intelligent" AI ever becomes, there is one key difference that will never change: Humans conceived of artificial intelligence, but AI could never conceive of humans.
That distinction is at the heart of this year's award for Time Magazine's "Person of the Year." The honor for 2025 -- the "person most significantly impact the news" -- has to be related to AI, which seems to have become instantly omnipresent this year. And so, Time has named the people behind AI for the award. The "person of the year" is a few key people -- The Architects of AI.
It's honestly not that difficult to imagine why these innovators are the obvious choice:
Since 1801, American leaders have gathered in Washington, D.C., to attend the Inauguration of a new President. It is a day of great tradition, one that often brings together the most powerful people in the country. Prominent at Donald Trump’s return to office in January were the chiefs of U.S. technology companies, which long have led the world. But something unexpected was happening offstage: that same day, a little-known Chinese firm called DeepSeek released a new artificial-intelligence model that spooked markets and led to a rallying cry from Silicon Valley.
The next day, tech titans Sam Altman, Larry Ellison, and Masayoshi Son appeared at the White House with an announcement of their own. They pledged to invest up to $500 billion to build AI data centers around the U.S., calling the project Stargate. Those two days foretold the year to come: global competition, astounding innovation, massive sums of money, and the alchemizing forces of public and private interests.
This was the year when artificial intelligence’s full potential roared into view, and when it became clear that there will be no turning back or opting out. Whatever the question was, AI was the answer. We saw it accelerate medical research and productivity, and seem to make the impossible possible. It was hard to read or watch anything without being confronted with news about the rapid advancement of a technology and the people driving it. Those stories unleashed a million debates about how disruptive AI would be for our lives. No business leader could talk about the future without invoking the impact of this technological revolution. No parent or teacher could ignore how their teenager or student was using it.
About a year and a half ago, I wrapped up a thirty-plus year career in public education with a plan to pursue writing and art and creativity full time. And following my heartfelt get-together with friends and colleagues from the school and English department where I worked, a colleague came into my office and gave me a wonderful parting gift. She is one of the creative writing teachers at the school, as well as being a writer herself, and she said it was time for her to pass on to me a gift given to her on her writing journey: The Artist's Way: a Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity by Julia Cameron.
For a writer and writing teacher, I was pleasantly surprised, both with the gift that has been a meaningful part of my journey, as well as the fact that I had never read nor really heard of this book before. The book is more than thirty years old now, and it has been a valuable contribution to the craft for so many people. I've been intrigued by the results of simply Googling the book, as so many writers have personal stories to share about their experience. Like this piece from Lauren Gonzales:
Eight summers ago, I found myself in a D.C. yoga studio sitting in a circle with several other women. No one was in a downward dog position, and hardly any of us were wearing stretchy pants. Any curious passerby might have assumed we were part of a support group of some kind, and in some ways, we were. We were a motley group of struggling creatives practicing The Artist's Way.
The Artist's Way is a 12-week course that helps people unlock their capacity for creativity — whether in art, at work, or in life. At its core, it's a great practice to access more delight, curiosity, and creative inquiry within your daily life. But for me, The Artist's Way grew to mean more than just a fun summer project or a tool to overcome writer's block. It helped me face my fears around trying new things, and gave me a better framework to live with the vulnerability and uncertainty that comes with life. I will gab about it to anyone who lets me in on their secret desires to pursue their artistic dream — be it tiny or grand.
One of the foundational aspects of the book, and one which people mention most frequently, is the simple practice that Cameron calls "the Morning Pages." The basic premise is grounded in two important aspects of the creative process -- clearing the mind and making a daily habit of production. Cameron's advice is to sit each morning before doing anything else and fill three full pages of handwritten reflection. I've appreciated this smooth explanation from Leah Lavelle of the Urban Wild Studio:
What are morning pages?
Imagine it is the early hours of the morning, you’ve just arisen and the world outside is still relatively calm and quiet. You pour a cup of coffee, and with a pen in hand and a blank page before you, you begin to write. Three pages of unfiltered thoughts, flowing freely from your mind onto the paper (or laptop). This is the essence of morning pages – a stream of consciousness daily ritual that holds the promise of self-awareness, and the potential for transformation and renewal.
In short, morning pages are (in the words of author Julia Cameron herself):
Three pages of longhand, stream of consciousness writing, done first thing in the morning
*There is no wrong way to do Morning Pages* They are not high art. They are not even “writing”
They are about anything and everything that crosses your mind– and they are for your eyes only
Capture your cloud thoughts; can be whining, grumpy, petty. Can be cheerful, pleasant, enlightening
Morning Pages provoke, clarify, comfort, cajole, prioritize and synchronize the day at hand
Do not overthink Morning Pages: just put three pages of anything on the page...and then do three more pages tomorrow
What are the benefits of morning pages? Why is this practice so powerful? Again, in Julia Cameron’s words, morning pages help:
Clear your mind
Become acquainted with all the corners of your psyche
Put your negative thoughts on the page so they aren’t floating around your consciousness during the day
Meet your shadow and take it out for a cup of coffee
Farewell to life as you knew it, and an intro to life as it’s going to be
Now, I will be honest in that I have tailed off the artist's way a bit since I began in the summer of 2024, and I don't even do the morning pages in the full expectation of the practice. However, I have continued the practice of daily writing reflection in the early morning, and it remains a meaningful part of my day and my creative practice.
If you're near Milwaukee, Chicago, or St. Louis, there is a Riot Grrrl wave heading your way this week. Cheap Perfume, the premier Colorado Fem-core band has a new album and are taking their unapologetically political music and their fierce live show on the road.
Since Donald Trump took office and, among other things, bolstered the ICE budget, slashed funding for important social and cultural programs, and attempted to censure trans and nonbinary folks into erasure, many people have taken to the streets in dissent. Punk music remains an important, historic form of protest, so it’s fitting that Denver femme punk outfit Cheap Perfume is set to drop a timely new album later this year.
The band has already released singles “Woke Mind Virus” and “Down to Riot” to tease the forthcoming album, Didn’t Ask. Don’t Care, which drops on October 3 via Snappy Little Numbers. Vocalist Stephanie Byrne, vocalist-guitarist Jane No, bassist Geoff Brent and drummer David Grimm have always worn their anti-capitalist, anti-fascist and pro-women political stances on their sleeves, following in the abrasive tradition of riot grrrl punk bands like Bikini Kill and Bratmobile.
On the new songs, Cheap Perfume, which formed in 2015, has yet again sharpened its fast-paced, shout-heavy and guitar-forward brand of feminist punk, holding nothing back in its calls for change. “A lot of the content on our new album has to do with anti-capitalism,” No explains. “So we were just writing about anti-capitalism in general and anti-fascism, and, of course, they go hand in hand with the patriarchy.”
I first encountered this incredible band about three years ago when I caught a show at the 715 Club in Denver, and my mind was blown when lead singer Stephanie Byrd literally charged into the crowd from the opening bars and drum beats with a ferocity I hadn't seen in years. Yet, I was also charmed with the cool conversations I had with Byrd and guitarist Jane No before and after the show. I wrote about the band a couple times, including this piece about their first out-of-state tour. After that short tour which included a slot at the historic Gilman Street, the band also opened up a show for Bikini Kill on the band's 2025 tour, and I felt the logical continuation of the Riot Grrrl revolution BK had begun in the early 90s.
As anyone in Denver’s punk scene knows, a Cheap Perfume show is a sonic blast of guitar chords, big drums, quick and heavy bass, and scathingly sharp yet sardonically poetic messages of social justice and empowerment. It’s also a helluva lot of fun. That’s the appeal of a band that is, as it calls itself, “fun, foul-mouthed and unapologetic.”
Now fans outside of Colorado will get the chance to experience Cheap Perfume’s sound and attitude as the band embarks on its first-ever tour this month. The self-described “fem-core punk” group will join the Atlanta-based rockers of Sarah and the Safe Word (SASW) for a West Coast run starting on April 24 at the Nile Underground in Mesa, Arizona. Then Cheap Perfume will be back to its Denver stamping grounds on Sunday, May 5, for a victory lap at the hi-dive.
The news of a “first-ever tour” may come as a surprise to local music fans who know Cheap Perfume from shows up and down the Front Range, as well as festivals. Though the band has played regularly for years, “the farthest we’ve gone was Salt Lake City last year, for Mind the Gap Fest,” says guitarist/vocalist Jane No. The band has had many tour offers, but the members finally found a time that worked for everyone.
“We’ve been together since 2015,” No says, “and it’s weird, or I guess unusual, that we haven’t toured, but that’s mostly because we all have demanding day jobs.” Just because a band has a ton of streams on Spotify doesn’t mean that pays the bills. “Meanwhile,” No dryly observes, “the CEO is a billionaire.”
This band is making some seriously good music, and CP is not to be missed if you can catch the live show at Milwaukee's X-Ray Arcade, Chicago's Liar's Club, or the Heavy Anchor in StL.
My favorite Christmas song is a rather unorthodox one in that it's not one of the traditional songs like "White Christmas" or "Carol of the Bells." It is, instead, an alternative song from a favorite indie rock band -- "2000 Miles" from Chrissie Hynde & The Pretenders.
There is just something so poignantly beautiful about this Christmas song in its sense of pathos -- longing and nostalgia and warmth and hope. The story is actually quite beautiful -- it's a bit of an elegy for a lost friend. And, it reminds me of that, old friends. Whenever I hear this song, it takes me back to working in restaurant in my small town in middle America around the holidays. This was one of several alternative Christmas songs on the mix tape, and I have such memories of cleaning up at closing time and listening to these songs. Anyone who has worked in restaurants knows what I mean.
A few other favorites from that time that always move me, sometimes to nostalgic smiles and even a bit of misty eyes included "Colorado Christmas" from the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, "Do They Know It's Christmas" from Band Aid, "Christmastime" by Smashing Pumpkins, and a beautiful play on an old classic, "Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy" by David Bowie & Bing Crosby.
Well, it's time for the annual debate about what makes a movie a Christmas movie. The quintessential discussion for the past twenty years or so is whether Die Hard, the classic 1988 Bruce Willis thriller, is a Christmas movie. But I won't bother with that one -- I have another suggestion. Five years ago, I posted my own review about a classic Gen X Christmas movie. Less Than Zero, the 1987 Brat Pack film based on the novel from Bret Easton Ellis, is a perfect example of a non-traditional Christmas movie. Here are my thoughts:
Is Die Hard a Christmas movie? Does anyone really care?
What defines the “Christmas movie”? Does it have to be a feel good story like It’s a Wonderful Life, or can it just take place during the holiday season like Die Hard. Does it have to represent the holiday cheer featured in Hallmark commercials, or can it expose the cold, distant reality of authentic families during less-than-warm Christmas parties?
Thirty years ago, Clay came back to LA for Christmas, and the holiday movie was never the same. For Generation X, a group of people raised on disappointment, the cinematic version of Bret Easton Ellis’ novel Less Than Zero is a true Christmas movie exposing the hollow superficial excess of the holiday season and specifically the 1980s. A visually stunning film from cinematographer Edward Lachman, the movie captures and spotlights all the glitz of the holiday season, especially in Beverly Hills, while not looking away from the vacuous lack of substance behind the style, the holiday, and the state of the American family. Director Marek Kanievska created a haunting music video of a Christmas movie with film noir elements amidst the bright lights of holiday decorations.
I've always been a nonfiction geek, and the type of research-based commercial nonfiction that took off in the early 2000s with books like Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point: How Little Things can Make a Big Difference has always been like catnip to me. Right at the turn of the century, it seemed like there was a hunger for "ideas" and accessible writing about the latest developments in science, psychology, economics, and other traditionally "dry" reading. Writers like Gladwell, Michael Lewis, Daniel Pink, and more began churning out book length explorations of the kind of stories that used to make great airplane reading in magazines like Wired, Fast Company, Forbes, The Atlantic and countless which took off during the 90s, a true heyday of magazine writing.
I always called the writers of these books the "Ideas Gurus," and their schtick was finding obscure information in research studies and distilling it down into accessible chunks of narrative-based nonfiction writing. And at that time, as the industry grew and publishers where looking for the next big nonfiction bestseller, scholars and academics and researchers who would have never considered themselves best-selling others, much less media personalities, began to crank out some seriously cool books. Stephen Dunbar and Steven Levitt's Freakonomics: a Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything immediately springs to mind.
Op-ed commentary writers like David Books also got into the game, making a nice living with books like Friedman's must-read blockbuster The World is Flat and Brooks' more niche but quirky cool Bobos in Paradise. And the one writer, other than Gladwell, who has ridden the commercial nonfiction wave to its greatest heights is Michael Lewis, the Princeton-educated English major who became a bond trader and then transitioned to a writing career with the Wall Street tell-all Liar's Poker: Rising Through the Wreckage on Wall Street. Several of Lewis' books have gone on to Hollywood stardom as well -- notably, The Blind Side, Moneyball, and The Big Short.
So, I shared my blog post about "Bandcamp not Spotify" with some friends who are in high finance and venture capital. And one of them really didn't like it. He is convinced that streaming is much better for all involved parties, especially him as a consumer who gets a nearly endless supply of practically free music on Spotify and AppleMusic. He is basically missing my point that if, as a fan, you really like a singer or band's music, you should support them more authentically by purchasing a digital product or even the physical form, for which the artist receives a much better payout.
Being a finance guy, and also someone under the age of forty, he can't understand why I can't agree that it's much better for the artist to have endless streaming fees for perpetuity, as opposed to the consumer buying the LP one time for $15.99 or the song (via the iTunes/Bandcamp model) for $0.99. He gets into all sort of finance theory terms talking about projection and .... blah, blah, blah. And I am unable to convince him that a band would rather have tens of thousands of fans buy a product and give them a large sum up front than to depend on millions of fans occasionally streaming the song for $0.0028 a listen over several years.
By the way, the artists and musicians I've heard from agree with my take, even as they acknowledge the reality of streaming and concede its benefits -- specifically the extended reach and exposure that wasn't possible before streaming. That said, we all know that while a million streams sounds impressive, that only earns the artist about $3000, and that would be divided among all band members. But, if a million or tens of millions of streams were instead the sale of ten to fifty thousand albums or CDs or digital downloads at $15, the artist would be earning hundreds of thousands of dollars.
The point is that the finance guys are not creators or producers. They don't make anything, so they can't really appreciate the value of the labor. And they like getting stuff cheap. And my original point is that if you really like an artist, you can support them by buying the product for real dollars, rather than just renting it for microscopic portions of a penny at a time.
The other day I noted that Gen Z's use of the word "bet" is the equivalent of Gen X using "word." When I said that, a colleague asked what the Millennial word was, and I glibly and somewhat sarcastically scoffed that Millennials had no word -- they just copied Gen X. That said, I think "word" remained the word for a while
With that in mind, I've noticed a strange uptick in news, or perhaps better said "commentary" on Generation X lately. Since 2025 began, there's been a steady stream of Gen X stories, features, lists, and more with an ironically heavy bit of nostalgia. The most recent one -- which I passed on to my Millennial colleague and a fellow Gen Xer who, because I work in a library and featured Coupland's pivotal novel Generation X: Tales from an Accelerated Culture, rolled her eyes and said she's never read and doesn't need a book to tell her who she is -- is an extensive and engaging piece from Gen X culture writer Amanda Fortini in the New York Times asking: "Is Generation X the Greatest Generation?"
There’s a collective fascination with Generation X, for both good and ill, as told by numerous think pieces and memes that have begun proliferating like gremlins in recent years. Most of these memes are humblebrags created by Gen X-ers themselves, applauding our toughness and resilience, honed by benign parental neglect (“The official sports drink when I was a kid,” reads a caption over a child drinking from a garden hose), or celebrating our own coolness, an aura cultivated by pretending not to care (“Them: The world is falling apart! Gen X kids: Have you ever had a bologna potato chip sandwich?”). Many express nostalgia for the lost relics of a simpler time, like mixtapes, malls, daytime soap operas, the mentholated burn of Noxzema or the ritual Friday night rental of Blockbuster videos.
According to the articles, Gen X is either the last awesome generation, despite the fact that we keep such a low profile — or maybe precisely for that reason (Vogue: “What if the cool ones are actually those unbothered people that nobody talks about?”) — or the worst, which is not news to us since we’re so self-loathing (The New York Times: “Hate Gen X? Get in Line [Behind a Gen X-er]”). There are denunciations of Gen X for not being progressive enough, or at least not as progressive as millennials (according to Gallup, as of 2022, 44 percent of Gen X-ers identify as independents and tend to vote on candidates or issues rather than by party). And then there are the hand-wringers, who either express retroactive concern about our traumatic childhoods (The Wall Street Journal: “Is Gen X Nostalgia Just Trauma-Bonding?”) or lament our unfitness for jobs, our ill-fated careers and the fact that it seems unlikely we will ever have a true Gen X president — though, by the old measures, Barack Obama, born in 1961, qualifies. If you were to ask Gen X-ers about any of this, most would simply shrug.
As readers of this blog may know, I am obviously Generation X, and I am a Gen X writer, having published my Master's thesis on the novels of Douglas Coupland, and putting together a steady stream of Gen X commentary, including a popular piece on "Gen X Parenting."
If you really like a band, and you appreciate the music - the art - you should consider purchasing a digital download of the music on Bandcamp, rather than endlessly streaming it for free on Spotify. Bandcamp supports artists and enables them to earn money from the appreciation of their creativity, as opposed to Spotify and other streaming services which simply exploit the artists and the system, earning billions in fees while paying next-to-nothing for the product.
Earlier this year, Swedish musician Bjork called out Spotify and streaming services, calling them "probably the worst thing that has happened to musicians." And as a music fan, an artist, a writer, and a consumer, I couldn't agree more. Snoop Dogg made a similar claim two summers ago during a panel at the Milken Institute. The music and culture icon who changed the game of hip-hop in the 90s went off script, and said "Can someone explain to me how you can have a billion streams and not get a million dollars? Cause that shit don't make sense to me."
Snoop and Bjork are, of course, speaking from a time when all musicians could sell an actual product like an album, a cassette, or a CD, and earn a nice living from the deal, even when record companies and producers took a significant cut. The creation of MP3 files and streaming -- beginning with Napster -- changed everything, and not for the better as far as the artist is concerned. However, Napster and streaming didn't ruin the possibility of earning a decent living as a musician at that point, and the visionary artist and businessman Steve Jobs had much to do with that.
iTunes was a brilliant innovation and a real game-changer, enabling music fans to purchase single songs as digital downloads for $.99. That was actually a win-win for the artist and the consumer. For, as anyone over the age of thirty recalls, there were times you liked a song or two from a new release, but didn't want the entire album/CD/cassette for $10-$15. And, a perk of the iTunes was that those of us who had significant CD collections could upload all our albums to the iTunes account and carry our music everywhere on our iPods and later iPhones.
However, the predatory Swedish businessman and "technologist" Daniel Ek basically went and ruined everything, enriching himself to the tune of billions in the process. It's a bit of a complicated story to understand how Ek moved Spotify into such a dominant position, manipulating record companies and the biggest artists into signing lopsided deals for music acquisition in exchange for "access and exposure." And that deal is absurdly slanted to enable the company to earn billions in membership fees while paying microscopic "revenue sharing" with artists of basically $0.0032 per stream. If it were an iTunes model, a million "streams" or downloads would make nice profits for the band, too.
And, of course, as a Gen Xer, I won't claim that in the 70s and 80s I didn't make bootleg copies of cassettes or record songs off the radio. But for all that "theft," we still purchased a helluva lot of music, and honestly the 80s and 90s were the absolute heyday for bands making money on their music, even moderately successful ones. Granted, on the current streaming platforms, the biggest artists are still making huge cash. And I will concede, as will most musicians, that streaming has benefits of extending reach, garnering many listeners who would never know of the band or the song without streaming. But, as a music writer and researcher, I know of far too many excellent musicians who stream a ton of music, but still work and struggle to pay the bills, which wouldn't have been a problem with comparable sales in the pre-streaming era.
So, that is why I don't have a Spotify or AppleMusic account, and that's why I do have a Bandcamp account. While I haven't fully committed to the return to vinyl, I definitely plan to. And I have started purchasing digital downloads of some new favorites on Bandcamp. I will also acknowledge that I do "stream music," having had a Pandora account for years (I am, after all, in my 50s). But I see Pandora more like listening to the radio, which I also do extensively, and unlike radio, Pandora actually pays fees to the artists. Also, I have often pulled up music on YouTube, but I make an effort to listen to the ads so the artists still earn a little something from my appreciation of their art.
Now, I am sure that this post has plenty of inconsistences and even potential hypocrisies which I haven't fully thought through. But I stand by my position that Spotify and its streaming model has not been good for musicians. And, honestly, I think that the heavyweight artists could make a significant impact on the industry if they collectively moved to demand at least the option of buying digital downloads that would be shared with the artist.
By the way, this situation and point of view came on my radar just recently, when Westword, Denver's alt-weekly published a piece about Alternative Streaming Platforms for Denver Artists. And here are a couple other links to aspects of this issue.
Earlier this year, I published a piece on PopMatters about 10 Brilliant Music Books on the Art & Industry. Originally planned for last winter as a sort of 2024 gift guide of the best new releases for the music lover in your life, the piece morphed a bit into just a list of great books about music.
For many music fans, the next best thing to the actual songs is the story “behind the music”. For book lovers who are also music lovers, a well-written and often unexpected music book is a treat that feeds both passions. Music books come in various formats, including band memoirs, music criticism, and pop culture philosophizing. From Lester Bangs’ collection of reviews in Psychotic Reactions & Carburetor Dung to Henry Rollins’ incredible journal-turned-memoir Get in the Van: On the Road with Black Flag, the music book is a valuable part of the art and the industry, providing fans with insight and context on the artists and the music they love.
I can still recall the first music book that grabbed and held my attention from cover to cover – No One Here Gets Out Alive (1981), the seminal biography of legendary Doors frontman Jim Morrison by Danny Sugarman. That book was more than just a memoir; it was a key player in my rock ‘n’ roll coming of age. Over the last few years, I have seen numerous innovative and informative books from various music genres. From rock to hip-hop to country to punk to emo, here’s a list of superb reads to deepen the music education for you or the music lover in your life.
My originally piece was planned for Westword, Denver's Alt-Weekly that I occasionally freelance for, and now the magazine has published a 2025 version of the list I had originally planned. Local writer Adam Perry has assembled a list of the Best Music Books Released in 2025 covering books "from Cameron Crowe's memoir to a deep-dive into queer culture in pop music, these are the perfect gifts for the music lover in your life." I am really excited about the new work from Cameron Crowe, and I would also recommend last year's excellent career study on REM - The Name of the Band is REM.
Every year, we read a lot of new music books, and it’s not only so that music-loving readers have holiday gift ideas for their loved ones, or just themselves; it also saves you time reading the bad or mediocre books that don’t end up on this list. Here, in no particular order, are six great music-related books released in 2025 that would be a blessing to crack open on Christmas morning or really anytime. Head over to your favorite bookstore and grab a copy.
And while I was wandering around a great bookstore in La Jolla recently, I was intrigued by a new book on the indie music scene with the awesome title The Hours are Long, but the Pay is Low. I lived in Chicago in the late '90s, but was unaware of the alt-country-punk scene that gave rise to Bloodshot Records, and I'm sorry I missed it. So, I'm hoping to get some insight and new bands to add to my collection.
“The music business is not a meritocracy: it is a crapshoot taking place in a septic tank balanced on the prow of the Titanic, a venal snake pit where innovation, creativity, and honest business practices are actively discouraged.”
Rob Miller arrived in Chicago wanting to escape the music industry. In short order, he co-founded a trailblazing record label revered for its artist-first approach and punk take on country, roots, and so much else. Miller’s gonzo memoir follows a music fan’s odyssey through a singular account of Bloodshot Records, the Chicago scene, and thirty years as part of a community sustaining independent artists and businesses.
Hilarious and hundred-proof, The Hours Are Long, But the Pay Is Low delivers a warm-hearted yet clear-eyed account of loving and living music on the edge, in the trenches, and without apologies.
There's no hype about duct-taped bananas coming out of south Florida this year, but it's almost Art Basel Miamitime, so there will undoubtedly be something stirring in the art world.
Arguably the biggest and most significant art festival in the United States each year, Art Basel Miami arrives this weekend, December 5-7, and while most of us art geeks will not be attending and rubbing shoulders with the world's elite artists, gallerists, dealers, patrons, and fashionistas, we can still live vicariously through the coming tidal wave of press and social media coverage.
The New York Times has a primer for those interested in attending:
The Miami Beach edition of Art Basel is unique in that it takes place on a single floor, rather than in a multistory location as the other Basel fairs in Hong Kong, Paris and Basel, Switzerland do.
Here, when visitors walk into the Miami Beach Convention Center, all 283 galleries from 43 countries sit adjacent to one another, a sea of paintings and people.
“You can feel that palpable hum of energy, people, art, light, landscapes — the whole cultural convergence — in that moment,” said Bridget Finn, director of Art Basel’s Miami Beach show. Finn, who took on the role just before the fair in 2023, came to Art Basel from the gallery world, having most recently served as a partner and managing director of the Detroit art gallery Reyes Finn.
And, of course, many other arts and culture writers will offer their insights and advice as well. Art Basel Miami is sort of the cornerstone of Miami Art Week, and there will also be plenty of coverage for art events flanking the festival, such as this piece from Casey Brennan for Grazia Magazine: "Everything to Know About Miami Art Week 2025"
Every December, Miami Beach becomes a stage where the worlds of art and fashion intersect under sunlight and spotlights. This year, Art Basel Miami Beach returns the first week of December, marking its twenty-third edition and a clear step forward for the fair’s evolution.
With 285 galleries from 44 countries and more than 40 first-time exhibitors, Basel 2025 feels both expansive and intimate—featuring legacy names while alive with new ideas.
For the first time, Art Basel introduces its global awards program, a new initiative celebrating artists, galleries, and curators shaping the cultural landscape today. The ceremony, set for December 4, is already one of the week’s most anticipated events—more than a gala, it’s a statement about where the art world is heading next. Inside the Convention Center, the works span every scale and medium, while beyond its walls, the city transforms into a living extension of the fair itself.
I can't recall when I first became aware of the festival that has been around since 2002 -- the original event and organization began in 1970. But as I have grown more interested in the art world, both as a general art geek as well as an occasional arts writer, the festival is now on my radar, and someday I may just hop on a plane and take the plunge.
Last year, I was intrigued to see Joe Taveras, an artist I'd been following for a while on Instagram, show up at Art Basel Miami with his new arts organization, the New Renaissance. And I thought that was pretty cool because Joe just started painting in the summer of 2020 during pandemic, and in just five years he was showing artists at a premier international art event. And that just goes to show you, as Joe has said, “It’s incredible what can happen in a year with passion, dedication, and perseverance.”
