OGs at Summer's End: Nourished by Time, Anna Tivel, and The Delphines.

Also a little more on The Waterboys, Dennis Hopper, and keytar solos.

OG Brian here, filling in for Brad in handling the intro duties.

As you may have heard, we’re under a kinda, sorta little occupation here in DC. We’ve got soldiers and federal agents of all shapes, sizes and acronyms patrolling(?) the city in the name of… what, exactly? Crime? Safety? Sprucing up federal lands? Instilling fear and creating supposedly badass photo ops for the base (political, not military)? Hmmm…. methinks we’re getting somewhere on this. Not sure anyone will be singing about this deployment 60 years later. So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a trash grabber. And they marched me away to the Tidal Basin.

(Brief serious interlude: I don’t blame the troops themselves for this situation, but those of us that don’t care for their presence can acknowledge two things: (1) the idea of “only following orders” clearly has its limits, and (2) we’re still a long way from that… I hope.)

While not the highest priority concern, one of the many, many, many shames of their presence in our nation’s capital is the spoiling of what has got to be the loveliest DC August weather-wise in recent memory. But now that I think about it, at last glance, the number of tourists in August and on Labor Day weekend seemed astonishingly low, so maybe – and just hear me out – an armed occupying military force has its positives? Not saying I can prove cause-and-effect, but if I were looking to plan a late summer weekend away, a loosely-organized (at best) armed military and federal law enforcement effort combined with exaggerated claims about local crime might influence me to change my plans. Relax, I kid. Sort of.

Anyway, with cool morning temperatures and moderate afternoons, not to mention the looming start of football and down-to-the-wire baseball, fall is unofficially here! So to keep you from contemplating future domestic deployments (coming soon to a blue city near you!) below are my thoughts on three albums, each of which has some connection, however tangential, to changes, be they seasonal (from summer to fall) or societal (too many to count by the minute). First I discuss the new self-described post-R&B album from Nourished by Time, the album we didn’t realize we all need. After that, it’s the latest from folk singer Anna Tivel, who recently opened for The Waterboys in DC. I talk about both her new album and the show. Finally, I reach back to the ‘90s and revisit The Delphines, a garage rock super-duo that should have been.

Oh, and if I haven’t made it clear, this time out it’s all me. The rest of the OGs are off leading interesting lives, so I’m minding the store for now. Enjoy!

New Album: The Passionate Ones by Nourished by Time. Fall is a time of change. Leaves and daylight and weather and whatnot. Sure it’s a cliché, but a cliché is a cliché because it’s true and universal. Want another cliché? Change can be exciting. Is that a cliché? I don’t know. It should be. Change is exciting, and it’s also challenging and scary and reassuring and daunting and terrifying and thrilling. Stagnancy is boring. Change is a sign that time is marching forward, and let’s be real – time needs to get the fuck on with marching forward. Because right now, change is not turning leaves and the occasional evening sweater. Change in 2025 is chaos and turmoil and uncertainty.

Amid all this chaos and uncertainty, many of us turn to art for comfort. Whether it’s movies (if you haven’t seen “Sinners” or “Black Bag” or even popcorn flicks like “F1” and “Superman” in theaters yet, what are you waiting for?), TV (unsolicited recommendation for the Polish spy drama “The Eastern Gate” on HBO Max), books (Mark Kriegel’s bio of Mike Tyson was a great read for dads of a certain age like me), or of course music.

I thought I had a handle on the year in music. But recently, I found what I needed to ease me through this turbulent period – an album that comments on the moment over bedroom grooves and throwback hooks, while also taking a break to focus on the beauty and sex and love that we need to be reminded still exist while we all navigate our way through international conflicts and late stage capitalism. No shade toward whatever angry punk protest anthems might manage to bubble up in the era of Taylor and Travis, but it turned out that the musical balm I needed was a thoroughly outstanding, crucial indie R&B album from just up the road in Baltimore, The Passionate Ones by Nourished by Time.

Nourished by Time is the name chosen for the solo project by Baltimore musician/singer/songwriter Marcus Brown, who describes his own music as “post-R&B.” He cites as major influences SWV, Jodeci, The Blue Nile, Prince, Frank Ocean, and Guided by Voices (Brown is a fan of latter’s DIY spirit and music, as well as the format of their band name, which he adopted for his own). On The Passionate Ones, you can hear elements of R&B, new wave, soul, hip hop, electronica, and house, all sharpened with a punk edge.

The album’s themes are defined most directly on “Max Potential,” with the refrain “If I’m gonna go insane / At least I’m loved by you.” In that one line, Brown acknowledges the state of the world, appreciates the good things in his life, but admits the world will still beat him down. “BABY BABY” goes further by jumping from sex (“Honestly I’m obsessed / Can I get you undressed?”), to the dominance of technology and capitalism (“Buy anything, just buy it fucking often / Yeah, turn your fucking brain off”), to workers’ rights (“If we all strike now, the gravy train stops”), to the idea that oppression overseas can lead to oppression at home (“If you can bomb Palestine, you can bomb Mondawmin”).

“9 2 5,” like Dolly Parton’s similarly-named classic, is an ode to the daily workday struggle and how the system’s grind really is – to use a word popular with a certain crowd – rigged (“You won’t always be here / To be tricked and lied to / May you always have a fight / Be it wrong or be it right”). “It’s Time” is in some ways a companion to “9 2 5” (“We don’t have to be so average”) and in some ways inward looking about mental strain and looking forward (“Baby, all I have is baggage / And a vision of love”). And Brown sees, or more likely hopes for, the light at the end of the tunnel on “When the War is Over” (“But it’s safe for me to fall in love / Maybe if you love me / Maybe I’ll surrender / When the war is over”).

“Jojo” features a guest verse by English rapper Tony Bontana, in which he reassures that “this art gonna change the world / Like one step at a time, like one hook and a rhyme / It’s your time to shine, don’t ever let ‘em dim your light.” And yet, “Tossed Away” reminds the listener that “some truths you can’t deny when you open up your eyes.”

Change in the form of chaos has been a constant for quite a while. Oh, maybe we got a brief respite here and there. But the world is especially chaotic right now. We all feel it. Marcus Brown felt it when he was writing and recording The Passionate Ones. Will this album age well? Don’t know. Ten years from now we could give it a spin and say that is one serious-ass 2025 vibe. Or we could say (gulp) yep, still relevant in 2035. All I know is, with apologies to Jesus Jones, Nourished by Time’s The Passionate Ones is supremely relevant to our constantly changing moments right here, right now (actually, I take back my apology since that song is an abomination). It is infectious and urgent and, yes, soothing.

It doesn’t soothe me because it’s escapist. It soothes me because Nourished by Time doesn’t bury its head in the sand. It soothes me because The Passionate Ones reminds me that there are others who are disturbed by the world’s problems and troubled by those who purport to save us from the people causing the problems. In the end, we can really only rely on ourselves and our loved ones. And some killer R&B hooks. (Brian)

Album from an upcoming/recent show: Animal Poem by Anna Tivel. As I believe I’ve already made clear, the weather is bordering on autumnal in Washington, DC. Morning dog walks require a hoodie. Iced coffees? No mas. The late afternoon/early evening hours are oh-so-delightfully comfortable. Now don’t get me wrong – a week or two from now it could easily jump back up to 96 and humid. But right now I’m loving this. No need to hide away and blast the A/C. Perfect weather chilling outside and playing some patio music (once again, shout out to music critic and 3A6OG favorite Steven Hyden for coining this great term for music suitable for playing on your patio/porch/deck/whatever, preferably with a morning coffee or an afternoon cocktail.

Animal Poem, the latest album from indie folk singer-songwriter Anna Tivel, is an excellent addition to the patio music canon. This largely acoustic album can best be described as “autumnal.” Remember that word? It was a fashionable description of acoustic indie folk in the late 2000s, inspired largely by the release of Bon Iver’s For Emma, Forever Ago. Well, it was accurate then and it’s accurate now. Tivel’s record essentially sounds like leaves changing colors, even if the lyrics are deeper and more personal. And the timing of this record – released right before Labor Day weekend – is fitting, as Tivel opened for The Waterboys on September 4 at the 9:30 Club to kick off the North American leg of their tour.

(Aside #1: This is the second time I’m mentioning The Waterboys without going into a full write-up of their new album, Life, Death and Dennis Hopper. That said, I’ll go a little further than last time, since I’ve given it quite a few more listens. Their new album is a great rock record that approaches its concept creatively. It’s so much fun to see a legacy band experiment with sound and lyrics and themes rather than just go for a nostalgia play. Mike Scott & Co. deserve a ton more attention in the U.S. than they’ve received over the years.)

The Portland-based Tivel opens her new album with “Holy Equation,” in which she paints a picture of her local surroundings (“God bless this city / Steel-beamed and starless / Exhaust and graffiti / A dirty glass fortress”) and immediate concerns such as “discount groceries” and “timing belt trouble” before moving on to bigger matters (“And God bless this country / I cry about it / Gold dust blooming / From black gunpowder”).

On lead single “White Goose,” Tivel sings about processing memories and regret (“In just a minute I’ll be fine, I got the meaning wrong again / Took for granted everything I need to breathe and feel and live”). On the title track, Tivel (and co-producer Sam Weber) add melancholy keyboards and soft jazz drums to the folk chords, while lyrically she tells her most vivid stories (“Courage is a tired mom / Milk crate and a cardboard sign / Trying to find a story for her daughter / This is how the world exists”). Tivel’s tales are rarely linear, and while the end result might not be uplifting, there is a sense that all involved are wiser (“You can be someone who loves / Or you can be somebody else / I tell you kid / The first one is the hardest”).

“Badlands,” a song about driving long distances through empty spaces with beautiful scenery – both natural and man-made – fittingly takes its time getting where it’s going, starting off sparse and gradually expanding until the song reaches its apex (“The sky is on fire above the badlands / And when you least expect it / You’re gonna find yourself traveling alone”). On the equally-sparse “Hough Ave, 1966,” Tivel references Nina Simone (specifically, her classic “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood”) as she sings about Cleveland’s Hough Riots in which four African-Americans were killed (“On the corner where you struck out / In the echo of a scream / There’s a reason for the breakdown / And that song means everything”).

“Airplane to Nowhere” is the most uptempo song on the album, yet the subject matter is dark, as Tivel uses the slightly rambling tune to describe domestic violence (“Pepper shaker, shattered plate / The way he kissed you after / Good as any mother / Made that anger fly away”). She continues this theme on “Meantime” with precise, haunting images (“The family down the street moved out / That dad who slapped his kids around / Then built a swing behind the house that no one ever used”).

If there’s one criticism I have, it’s that the humor, personality, spirit, and connection with the audience that Tivel displayed during her opening set at the 9:30 Club is largely absent from the album. Her act was sparse – she sang and played acoustic guitar, accompanied only by another guitarist and a drummer – and her sound was still folky and mellow (connecting one song to the idea of getting high and leaning against a tree seemed, to this East Coast native, as Portland as it gets) but there was a subdued liveliness and engagement with the moment that I wish came through more on Animal Poem.

(Aside #2: The Waterboys’ headlining set rocked. They played classics like “Don’t Bang the Drum,” “Medicine Bow,” and “Fisherman’s Blues.” During the middle segment of the show, they played a good chunk of the new album in timeline order, complete with projected visuals related to Dennis Hopper’s life. For the encore, the band closed out with “The Whole of the Moon” and a terrific cover of Prince’s “Purple Rain.” Perhaps most notably, the almost 2.5-hour set featured three or four prominent keytar solos. Let’s be honest - the photo just below doesn’t perfectly fit with the themes of Animal Poem, but it is objectively awesome.)

I would never describe Animal Poem as an uplifting album, either musically or lyrically. Not what you’d call a “cocktail party record.” But for sitting on the patio (or porch, or deck, or whatever) on a slightly brisk fall morning? It absolutely works, and Tivel plays this kind of music as well as anyone. The songs are beautiful and peaceful and dark and harsh and clear-eyed and thoughtful. And Tivel is a gifted songwriter who can tell a story that embraces you one minute and pushes you away the next. Animal Poem gives the listener an experience that is complex, evolving, and at times just a little bit chilly. Or to put it another way, autumnal. (Brian)

Album being rediscovered (at least 10 years old): The Delphines (s/t). The end of summer brings about different adjustments for different people. Of course the temperatures drop. Vacations end and work actually expects you to, you know, work. And yes, a week before Labor Day we start getting advertisements for those goddamn pumpkin spice lattes. For me, it means (among other things) sending my two older boys back to college and jumping back into the weekly routine for my youngest son, currently a middle schooler. That means making sure he’s up and out for school before diving into the 9-to-5 life. It also means spending the occasional weekend driving around the east coast for youth sports (and I’m very appreciative for the competitive yet not toxic hockey team we found; there are some absolute nightmare situations out there for these kids).

As I’ve written before, I’m nostalgic for the old days of local radio, switching from station t station as you go from state to state (the corridor from DC to New England is pretty dense; I remember being able to catch New York AM radio in Maryland late at night). However, there are benefits to the diverse stations that satellite radio offers. Because I’ve also written about how, while driving my kids around, I’ll stumble across a fantastic song by a band or artist that I either missed the first time around or had long since forgotten. Such was the case a little over a week ago during a drive home from north Jersey. As we drove through the campus of Rutgers University, a song came on that grabbed me, shook me, knocked my socks off. It was a garage rock jam with a hint of power pop, squarely in my musical wheelhouse. It was also another moment of “how did this song escape me and who is this band?” The song was called “Have A Nice Day” and the band was The Delphines.

I went on to learn that The Delphines were primarily guitarist Kathy Valentine of The Go-Go’s and bassist Dominique Davalos, who played with Valentine in the blues rock band The BlueBonnets, which originally formed in the ‘90s and have since continued recording and touring since the late 2000s. (Not to be confused with the mid-2010s Milwaukee post-punk band of the same name). The Delphines employed a rotating cast of drummers, including Paul Crowder, the late Clem Burke of Blondie, and fellow Go-Go Gina Schock, and released their self-titled debut in 1996 (which included the aforementioned “Have A Nice Day”) and a 2001 follow-up Cosmic Speed.

And what a debut. “I Want You The Way I Want You Not How You Are” kicks the album off with a powerful, infectious guitar hook before the rhythm section jumps in and propels this aggressive song about a breakup that hasn’t happened but is inevitable (“What a desperate man you’ve become”). “Outskirts of Living” gets heavier, with some Texas-style blues rock coming through, and also lyrically, with references to being “drenched in depression” while being on the “outskirts of living.”

“Crazy” leans more into the power pop side of the band, once again focusing on the dark side of relationships (“Maybe it’s because you got madness in your eyes / Maybe it’s because I know you were lost when I found you”) while still being supremely catchy. “Down Underground” is the sound of driving fast with the top down and shades on, whether away from something or toward something, but regardless feeling like you’re “sharp as a razor, cooler than Brian Jones.”

“Thrill of It” is easily the most blues-influenced track on the album, a lament about staying with the wrong person who still provides just the right kind of pleasure. “What Strange Love” is the best kind of ‘90s garage rock, starting off with the bringing-me-back angular guitar before switching to melt-your-face power chords, ultimately punctuated with a Kim Gordon-esque growl. “Have A Nice Day” closes out the album, a buzz bin rocker in which the protagonist “got married in Vegas, divorced in Reno” and which sounds better than most buzz bin rockers of its time.

I could continue going song-by-song, but instead I’ll just say this – if, like me, you were unfamiliar with this 1996 gem of an album, find it on the streaming service of your choice or dig it up at your favorite used record store. It’s that good. And it’s also not surprising. Everyone involved in this project is without a doubt a straight-up legend.

The question I need to answer (because of course it always has to be about me…) is why this album escaped my awareness at the time and for so long. Maybe it’s because, back in ’96, I was hanging on every word uttered by the likes of Robert Pollard, Stephen Malkmus, Bob Mould and Thurston/Kim. Maybe it’s because, as a 24-year-old man at the time, I wasn’t paying attention to women over a certain age who rocked, limiting my exposure to newer artists like the riot grrrl bands and the aftermath of that scene, along with an occasional Breeders or Throwing Muses release.

Or maybe to me, a Gen-X male, The Go-Go’s were solely their radio hits and MTV videos like “We Got The Beat,” “Vacation” and “Head Over Heels,” all released when I was between the ages of 10 and 12, old enough to dig the fun, catchy tunes but too young to fully grasp and appreciate the expert songwriting and musicianship behind the record industry marketing polish (to this day, though, the first thing I think of when I hear “We Got The Beat” is the opening credits to the excellent “Fast Times at Ridgemont High”). Sadly, I can’t say that 24-year-old me would have considered “from the guitarist of The Go-Go’s” as a selling point. It was the MTV-curated ‘80s world we pushed back against in the ‘90s, especially those of us who grew up on it. And that’s the key – we all grow up, whether from kids to young adults, or young adults to actual adults.

Join me in discovering (or re-discovering) and celebrating The Delphines. I’d say better late than never, but once again that’s making it all about me. (Brian)