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      Meet Joni Mitchell’s Joni Jam Crew

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      A cast of musicians, led by Brandi Carlile, joined the 79-year-old singer and songwriter onstage at the Gorge in Washington on Saturday.Allison Russell: clarinetist, singer and lyricist. Bethany Mollenkof for The New York TimesDear listeners,Consider this a postcard from Wenatchee, a small city nestled in the hills of central Washington. Out here, the blue highway signs that usually serve as mile markers instead display the types of apple trees you’re driving by: Fuji, Gala, Honeycrisp. I made an eager pilgrimage to this corner of the world over the weekend (along with a bunch of other Joni Mitchell fans) to see Mitchell headline the Gorge Amphitheater at her first ticketed concert in more than 20 years.To call the show miraculous does not feel like hyperbole. In the review I wrote sleep-deprived in the middle of the night, I likened it to seeing a bird in the wild that you thought had gone extinct. Days later, I can’t think of any other way to describe it.After Mitchell’s near fatal brain aneurysm in 2015, I doubted we’d ever hear her sing again at all, let alone hit some of those rich, resonant notes in songs like “Amelia,” “The Circle Game” and “Carey” on Saturday night. Those videos of her surprise appearance at last year’s Newport Folk Festival were certainly something. But the so-called Joni Jam at the Gorge was proof that she’s spent the last year — on the brink of turning 80, no less — working hard to strengthen her voice. It was inspiring to behold.Like the Newport set, the Joni Jam was communal by nature, spearheaded by Mitchell’s friend Brandi Carlile and designed to have the feel of the musical gatherings Mitchell frequently hosts in her living room. That made the show feel relatively egoless: Though there were some headline-worthy names present, there were no dramatic, please-welcome-to-the-stage entrances or bowed departures. Everyone was onstage the whole time, either jamming, singing or listening intently.The different performers onstage spoke to the diversity of Mitchell’s influence: Annie Lennox, Allison Russell, Wendy and Lisa from Prince’s Revolution. Since I still can’t get the concert off my mind, I thought I’d celebrate that spirit of musical community by offering a kind of who’s who of the Joni Jam. Some names you’ll probably recognize, others you might not — all the more reason to give them a listen. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go find some fresh apples before leaving town.Listen along on Spotify as you read.1. Annie Lennox: “No More ‘I Love You’s’”Earlier this year, when Mitchell received the Library of Congress’s prestigious Gershwin Prize for Popular Song, the great Annie Lennox gave a performance of “Both Sides Now” that brought something entirely new out of that song. Seriously, just watch it. The dramatic finger-pointing! On Saturday night, Lennox honored Mitchell with a synthy, atmospheric cover of “Ladies of the Canyon,” similar to the version she recorded for a 2007 Mitchell tribute album. Lennox has long been a great, fluid interpreter of other people’s material: For the longest time, I didn’t even know that “No More ‘I Love You’s,’” the leadoff track from her 1995 album “Medusa,” was a cover. But it is, and Lennox lifted a wonderful 1986 song by the Lover Speaks out of semi-obscurity with this passionate rendition. As ever, she has taste. (Listen on YouTube)2. Allison Russell: “The Returner”Onstage, when she accompanied her for a rendition of “Young at Heart,” Mitchell called the Americana artist Allison Russell “the most beautiful clarinet player ever.” But she’s a heck of a singer and lyricist, too, as this uplifting title track from her upcoming second album “The Returner” attests. (Listen on YouTube)3. Sarah McLachlan: “Sweet Surrender”Just a very underrated single from Sarah McLachlan’s multiplatinum “Surfacing.” Put some respect on Sarah McLachlan’s name! (Listen on YouTube)4. Blake Mills: “Skeleton Is Walking”Mitchell’s Gorge performance of “Amelia,” from her singular 1976 album “Hejira,” was a highlight for me — not only for the lushness of her vocals, but because of the musician and producer Blake Mills’s faithful accompaniment, on Mitchell’s own guitar. There’s a precise kind of spaciousness to the guitar phrasings on “Hejira,” and Mills did an excellent job recreating them. You can hear more of his nimble guitar work on the ambling, psychedelic solo he noodles over the back half of “Skeleton Is Walking,” from his forthcoming solo album, “Jelly Road.” (Listen on YouTube)5. Lucius: “Go Home”Although they dress onstage like fraternal twins, Jess Wolfe and Holly Laessig are not even sisters. Judging by their tight, soulful harmonies, though, you’d almost swear they were. The duo are prolific backing vocalists, and in their Joni Jam appearances they’ve nailed that almost Andrews Sisters-esque harmony that Mitchell often employed on her folkier albums. They let loose with something a little rawer here on a standout track from the 2014 Lucius album “Wildewoman.” (Listen on YouTube)6. Brandi Carlile: “The Story”“Joni hasn’t always felt the appreciation that exists amongst humanity for her,” Carlile said in a CBS News interview right after the Newport performance. “But I wanted her to feel that.” Carlile’s friendship and support have been crucial to Mitchell’s return — onstage, she clearly knows how to make Mitchell feel relaxed and at home (sometimes literally: the Gorge set evoked Mitchell’s living room). Let’s raise a glass (or bottle) of pinot grigio to Carlile, or just let her classic 2007 hit “The Story” rip. (Listen on YouTube)7. Prince and the Revolution: “Purple Rain”Speaking of stories, Wendy Melvoin told a great one at the Joni Jam: Apparently Mitchell came to a Prince concert on the “Purple Rain” tour, and Prince wanted to invite her onstage to sing the title track. But she told Prince she didn’t know the words! (Imagine.) It’s easy, he told her: it’s just “Purple rain, purple rain, purple rain.” I may never hear this song again without picturing this exchange. (Listen on YouTube)No regrets, coyote,LindsayThe Amplifier PlaylistListen on Spotify. We update this playlist with each new newsletter.“A Who’s Who of the Joni Jam” track listTrack 1: Annie Lennox, “No More ‘I Love You’s’”Track 2: Allison Russell, “The Returner”Track 3: Sarah McLachlan, “Sweet Surrender”Track 4: Blake Mills, “Skeleton Is Walking”Track 5: Lucius, “Go Home”Track 6: Brandi Carlile, “The Story”Track 7: Prince and the Revolution, “Purple Rain”Bonus TracksAfter I wrote about my earliest favorite songs in Friday’s newsletter, a bunch of you wrote in to share your own stories. I appreciated every single one of them, but I admit that this one may have been my favorite:“Our son, who is a couple years younger than you, used to like to sing the chorus of ‘Loser’ by Beck at the top of his lungs in public places like grocery stores when he was 3. We got a lot of strange, disapproving looks.” More

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      First Favorite Songs Are Like Sonic Baby Pictures

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      How a minor 1989 George Harrison single from the “Lethal Weapon 2” soundtrack opened a young listener’s ears.George Harrison, when he first had an impact on The Amplifier’s author.Pete Still/Redferns, via Getty ImagesDear listeners,What was your first favorite song?I’m not talking about that hip, semi-obscure tune around which you formulated your preteen identity — the one you told everyone at school you loved because it made you seem mysterious and cool. I’m talking about a time before all that, before you were conscious of taste, and all you knew about a song you loved was that it struck a resounding chord somewhere deep inside of you.Here’s what I’m talking about:Shortly after I turned 3, “Lethal Weapon 2” came out on VHS. One night my dad was lucky enough to score this coveted Blockbuster rental, and because it was — gasp! — an R-rated movie, I was not allowed to go in the living room while he was watching it. Of course, for the next two hours there was nowhere in the universe that I wanted to be more desperately than the living room.From my safe, G-rated perch upstairs, I strained to hear any sound I could make out from this tantalizingly forbidden flick. I was getting so cranky about it that my parents made me a compromise: They would let me watch the closing credits of “Lethal Weapon 2” — a black screen filled with a bunch of ascending white words and names I could not yet read. But it didn’t matter, because the song that played while they scrolled was incredible. “Again!” I cried when it was over; they were kind and rewound. There I sat directly in front of the television, enraptured by what turned out to be a very minor 1989 George Harrison single, “Cheer Down.”I didn’t yet know who George Harrison was. I didn’t yet know that it is kind of random that George Harrison wrote the theme song for “Lethal Weapon 2.” I didn’t even know who the Beatles were. I just knew that this evocative, lightly melancholic sequence of chords, that comfortingly gruff voice and those slide guitar notes that streak across the song’s coda like shooting stars made me feel a certain way, and that I wanted to feel that way forever.Before he returned it to the video store — F.B.I. agents, look away! — my dad gamely taped the closing credits for me on a blank VHS. It’s still an inside joke in my family, the story of a 3-year-old future music critic constantly asking her parents to put on “the ‘Lethal Weapon tape,’” just so she could listen to this Harrison song over and over.You can learn a lot about a person from asking about their first favorite songs — it’s the sonic equivalent of looking at someone’s baby pictures. And since I’ve been dropping into your inbox twice a week with this newsletter, I figured it was only fair that you heard a few of mine.Listen along on Spotify as you read.1. Cat Stevens: “Moonshadow”I am pretty sure someone sang this as a lullaby to me when I was a baby, and to this day the-artist-formerly-known-as-Cat-Stevens’s voice can still make me feel an almost preternatural comfort — a feeling of being swaddled beyond what even the heaviest weighted blanket can offer. My parents got a CD player (state-of-the-art technology) when I was young, and I can still remember being taught how to place “Cat Stevens: Greatest Hits” into the tray very, very carefully and cue up track 8, which was of course my song, “Moonshadow.” (Listen on YouTube)2. Tom Petty: “Free Fallin’”I grew up in New Jersey and did not visit the West Coast until my mid-20s, so throughout my youth the proper nouns in this song sounded exquisitely exotic to me: Mulholland, Ventura Boulevard, this surely indescribably glamorous oasis called “Reseda.” “Free Fallin’” would now probably land on the shortlist of the most overplayed American rock songs of the 20th century, and yet — perhaps the reason I cannot imagine ever getting sick of it — I can still travel back to a time when its lyrics sounded alluringly strange to me, and when I believed there might be actual vampires haunting Ventura Boulevard. (Petty also co-wrote “Cheer Down,” and Jeff Lynne helped produce both of those songs — so clearly the Traveling Wilburys had a hold on my musical taste from an early age.) (Listen on YouTube)3. U2: “Zoo Station”After it came out in late 1991, U2’s angsty, glammy “Achtung Baby” was an absolute staple in my parents’ steel-blue Ford Taurus. Taking it in over and over again from the back seat, this album seemed to contain all of the mysteries of the adult world, set somewhere just beyond my realm of understanding. All I knew was that it sounded cool. And a little scary! On “Achtung Baby,” relatively straightforward rock songs are haunted by weird, ghostly sounds, like the mournful, malfunctioning tape loop at the beginning of “Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses,” the eerie distortion of “Until the End of the World” or any number of ghost noises that lurk throughout the tone-setting opener “Zoo Station.” I later realized that a lot of this strangeness was the result of the Edge’s adventurousness with effects pedals and, even more ineffably, Brian Eno’s arty production. (I also realized much later — for shame — that “a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle” was an iconic second-wave feminist slogan, not a funny lyric that Bono made up.) No matter what U2 does or how many albums it forcefully installs on my iPhone, “Achtung Baby” will always have a special place in my heart for being one of the first records to freak me out — in a good way. (Listen on YouTube)4. Peter Gabriel: “Steam”Peter Gabriel is another artist whose voice and melodic sensibility I’ve been drawn to — disquieted and then subsequently comforted by — for as long as I can remember. The seemingly childlike “Games Without Frontiers” was a song I always loved hearing on the radio, even if its geopolitical message and lyrical content went completely over my head. The one I requested over and over, though, was Gabriel’s punchy, absurdly satirical 1992 single “Steam.” (It boasts what I now regard as the most 1992 music video of all time.) Except I confess that I thought that this song was called … “Steve.” Yes, “Steve.” I imagined on the chorus he was demanding, somewhat menacingly over a telephone, “Give me Steve.” Being a kid is weird. So is this song. (Listen on YouTube)5. Fine Young Cannibals: “She Drives Me Crazy”This song was everywhere as the ’80s became the ’90s — it topped the Billboard Hot 100 for a week in April 1989 — and, to quote a phrase, I just could not help myself. The bright, synthetic textures were such an adrenaline rush to me: the cavernous echo of that hopscotching breakbeat, those jagged lightning-bolt riffs that puncture the production’s perfect sheen, and the acrobatic, androgynous beauty of Roland Gift’s vocals. It sounded like the national anthem of another planet, and I wanted to live there. Even today, I’ll sometimes become obsessed with a song and not realize why I can’t stop listening to it, until I realize: “Duh, it kind of sounds like ‘She Drives Me Crazy.’” I am of course incredibly biased, still being an excitable ’80s baby at heart, but I still think it’s one of the more perfect pop songs ever written. (Listen on YouTube)6. George Harrison: “Cheer Down”Play the “Lethal Weapon” tape! Again! (Listen on YouTube)Give me Steve,LindsayThe Amplifier PlaylistListen on Spotify. We update this playlist with each new newsletter.“Sonic Baby Pictures” track listTrack 1: Cat Stevens, “Moonshadow”Track 2: Tom Petty, “Free Fallin’”Track 3: U2, “Zoo Station”Track 4: Peter Gabriel, “Steam”Track 5: Fine Young Cannibals, “She Drives Me Crazy”Track 6: George Harrison, “Cheer Down”Bonus tracksA few years back, I wrote about another song that similarly enchanted me as a child, perhaps more than any other: Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire.” I omitted that track from this playlist because I would prefer that you continue subscribing to this newsletter, but you can read that essay if you’re so inclined.I also love this 2014 column from my old colleague at Pitchfork, the brilliant Jayson Greene, about a song that captivated him at a very early age: Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.”Plus, if you’re looking for new music, this week’s Playlist has fresh tracks from PinkPantheress, Rosalía, Romy and more.Don’t forget: your Pride songs!I’m still collecting your stories and song suggestions for Pride. So, tell me: Was there a certain song that first gave you the courage to come out? Or is there a particular track that, to you, embodies the spirit of Pride? Share your answers here so I can consider them for an upcoming edition of The Amplifier. More

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      7 New Songs You Should Hear Now

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      Listen to Jorja Smith, Silvana Estrada, Miya Folick and more recent highlights.Jorja Smith has carved out a lane slightly below the mainstream with her moody, sophisticated R&B and pop.Liz Johnson ArturDear listeners,There’s “weekly,” “biweekly,” even “triweekly” — but is there a word for something that happens once every four weeks?I’m talking about a word more precise than “monthly.” Quadriweekly? Bi-fortnightly? Whatever it is, that is how frequently I’ve been sending out these dispatches of new music culled from the best of our weekly Playlists.And since another two fortnights hath passed since I last sent one, the time has come again for me to tell you about some more songs you should hear right now. Yes, this very instant!As usual, it’s an eclectic selection, mixing perhaps a few familiar names with some new ones. It’s somewhat varied in language and geography, too: two songs in Spanish (gracias a Silvana Estrada and Lido Pimienta), two from across the pond (courtesy of Blur and Anohni and the Johnsons), and at least one from each country in North America, plus a Moose and a cockroach. Just trust me on that.Listen along on Spotify as you read.1. Anohni and the Johnsons: “It Must Change”Though the heart-wrenching vocalist Anohni has released powerful solo music in the past decade — most notably the political and poetic electronic album “Hopelessness” in 2016 — her new single “It Must Change” is the first time since 2010 that she has released music with her backing band the Johnsons. That doesn’t mean it’s a retread, though. Soulful, slinky and thematically subversive, “It Must Change” is at once a demand for respect — “The way you talk to me, it must change,” Anohni sings — and a call to accept the constant fluidity of all things. (Listen on YouTube)2. Silvana Estrada: “Milagro y Desastre”I always appreciate Jon Pareles keeping an ear out for new artists from a vast variety of cultures and musical traditions. I have him to thank for introducing me to the Mexican singer-songwriter Silvana Estrada, who won best new artist at last year’s Latin Grammys. Usually known for her sparse, guitar-driven folk songs, “Milagro y Desastre” — miracle and disaster — is something new for Estrada: a song composed largely with looped, layered fragments of her own voice. (See also: her recent, charming cover of Suzanne Vega’s “Tom’s Diner.”) The cooed, percussive notes that provide the song’s rhythmic backbone remind me a bit of Laurie Anderson’s “O Superman,” but Estrada’s impassioned singing and distinct ear for melody ultimately take “Milagro y Desastre” somewhere unique. (Listen on YouTube)3. Rob Moose featuring Phoebe Bridgers: “Wasted”What a name: Rob Moose. A prolific string player and arranger for artists like Bon Iver, Brittany Howard and, yes, Phoebe Bridgers, Mr. Moose will, on Aug. 11, release the EP “Inflorescence.” It features guest vocals from all those aforementioned artists, but so far my favorite track is his collaboration with Bridgers, the moody, nocturnal “Wasted.” Though Bridgers has been playing a version of it live for years, Moose’s contributions kick it up a notch — his anxiously plucked notes and graceful crescendos give her existential dread an almost cinematic sweep. (Listen on YouTube)4. Blur: “The Narcissist”Regular Amplifier readers will know about this one already — in its honor, I composed an entire newsletter featuring some of my favorite Blur songs. The British band’s first new single in eight years is, I think, eminently enjoyable; the push and pull between Damon Albarn’s downcast deadpan and Graham Coxon’s cheery backing vocals is classic Blur. (Listen on YouTube)5. Miya Folick, “Cockroach”I’ve been really digging the Los Angeles singer-songwriter Miya Folick’s recently released sophomore album, “Roach.” “Cockroach” is one of its more subdued songs, but it still showcases Folick’s off-kilter edge and her penchant for surprising, emotionally loaded turns of phrase. Though comparing oneself to a cockroach is usually an expression of self-loathing, here Folick employs it as a symbol of grimy resilience: “You can’t kill me.” (Listen on YouTube)6. Jorja Smith, “Little Things”Like many people, I first became aware of the British vocalist Jorja Smith in 2017, when she appeared on Drake’s mixtape “More Life” (“Get It Together” very much still goes). Since then, she’s carved out a lane slightly below the mainstream releasing moody, sophisticated R&B and pop. “Little Things,” which will appear on her upcoming album “Falling or Flying,” is a relatively carefree and kinetic track for Smith — conjuring a sweaty summer night on the dance floor — but that jazzy piano riff adds a signature touch of elegance. (Listen on YouTube)7. Lido Pimienta, “Ein Sof, Infinito”The visionary Colombian-Canadian musician Lido Pimienta wrote this song for “Ein Sof,” a brightly hued short film by the director Orly Anan. Atop a playful though gradually transcendent arrangement of pizzicato strings and soaring synthesizers, Pimienta repeatedly sings with all her heart “cuando sueño contigo” (“when I dream of you”) — a welcome invitation into her vivid imagination. (Listen on YouTube)Quadrilaterally yours,LindsayThe Amplifier PlaylistListen on Spotify. We update this playlist with each new newsletter.“7 New Songs You Should Hear Now” track listTrack 1: Anohni and the Johnsons, “It Must Change”Track 2: Silvana Estrada, “Milagro y Desastre”Track 3: Rob Moose featuring Phoebe Bridgers, “Wasted”Track 4: Blur, “The Narcissist”Track 5: Miya Folick, “Cockroach”Track 6: Jorja Smith, “Little Things”Track 7: Lido Pimienta, “Ein Sof, Infinito”Bonus tracks: Your Pride songsHappy L.G.B.T.Q.+ Pride Month, everyone! Later this month, well be publishing a special Pride installment of The Amplifier featuring some of your stories and song suggestions. So, tell me: Was there a certain song that first gave you the courage to come out? Or is there a particular track that, to you, embodies the spirit of Pride? Share your answers here, and you just might be featured in an upcoming newsletter. More

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      Tina Turner, a Queen of Rock ’n’ Roll Covers

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      The musician, who died on Wednesday at 83, was a radical interpreter of other artists’ material. Listen here.Charlie Gates for The New York TimesDear listeners,As the great Tina Turner told it in the wrenching 2021 documentary “Tina,” when she began to envision a solo career finally liberated from her abusive ex-husband, Ike, in the early ’80s, she told her new manager, Roger Davies, “My dream is to be the first Black rock ’n’ roll singer to pack places like the Stones.”Turner — who died on Wednesday at 83 — didn’t need to become a rock singer; she’d been one of the most raucous around since the early 1960s. (And Ike’s 1951 single “Rocket 88” is considered by some to be the first ever rock song.) As rock ’n’ roll entered its fourth decade, though, this genre that owed its existence to unsung Black pioneers was still dominated, at the top and too often in the public imagination, by white men. One of whom, legend has it, Tina herself had taught to dance.By the mid-1980s, Turner’s dream became a reality. Buoyed by the enormous success of her 1984 album “Private Dancer,” she was then headlining those very arenas that the Stones played, all over the world. She bested them (and every other musician on the planet) during her triumphant 1988 concert in Rio de Janeiro, which set a Guinness World Record for the largest attendance for a ticketed concert — more than 180,000 people screaming her name.But Turner was a rock star long before that, as you can hear on her many blistering and visionary interpretations of rock hits from the 1960s and ’70s. Turner wrote some of her own songs (like the great, autobiographical 1973 hit “Nutbush City Limits”), but she was also a radical interpreter of other people’s material — an electrifying vocalist who could torch a familiar song with fire and then weld it into something entirely new.The most famous example, of course, is her and Ike’s reimagining — “cover” almost seems like too reverent a word — of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s mid-tempo Southern rocker “Proud Mary.” The 1970 recording begins with Turner’s declaration that, despite what audiences might want from them, “we never ever do nothin’ nice and easy.” She then issues a warning, as if that galloping tempo change in the middle of the song would have been too shocking without one: “We’re gonna take the beginning of this song and do it easy, but then we’re gonna do the finish rough. That’s the way we do ‘Proud Mary.’”That was also the spirit behind her versions of “Help!,” “Come Together” and “She Came in Through the Bathroom Window” — to name just a few of the Beatles songs she positively Tina-fied. Led Zeppelin and the Rolling Stones got the treatment, too, and so did “Louie Louie,” with a sultry, little-known rendition which — I’m not even making this up — louielouie.net (“The blog for all things Louie Louie”) called “one of the essential Louie Louie recordings!” with some all-caps emphasis. Amen to that.Tina Turner was a seismic, once-in-a-lifetime musical force, but I don’t need to tell you that; I’ll let this playlist do the talking. And I’ll let my colleague Wesley Morris, who wrote an appraisal worthy of the queen, do some of it too: “They’re saying she was 83? Nobody’s buying that. The ingredients made her seem immortal. For seven decades of making music, it all sizzled in her. That energy. It shot from her — from her feet, thighs, hands, arms, shoulders, out of her hair, out of her mouth.”Listen along on Spotify as you read.1. “Come Together”Released as a single in December 1969, just two months after the Beatles’ own version, this soulful take on the leadoff track from “Abbey Road” shows off the raspy intensity and melodic control of Turner’s voice. (Listen on YouTube)2. “Honky Tonk Women”In late 1969, Ike and Tina toured with the Rolling Stones — an opening gig forever immortalized in an unforgettable scene in the documentary “Gimme Shelter,” when Turner unleashes a transcendent “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long.” Around the time of the tour, the duo started playing their own revamped “Honky Tonk Women,” in which Tina flips the titular character from object to subject. Especially in Stones songs about sexual conquests, Mick Jagger wasn’t exactly known for writing nuanced female characters (“Some Girls,” ahem), but here, brilliantly, Tina turns mildly chauvinistic source material into an impassioned demand for equal partnership: “I’m a honky tonk woman,” she sings, hungrily. “Gimme, gimme, gimme a honky tonk man.” (Listen on YouTube)3. “Whole Lotta Love”This is a wild one. In 1975, Turner released “The Acid Queen,” technically the second and final solo album she recorded while still married to Ike; its title was inspired by her character in the rock opera “Tommy.” On this funky, disco-inflected standout, she slows down a Led Zeppelin heater to an unhurried tempo that makes the song unfurl like a slow, slinky seduction. (Listen on YouTube)4. “She Came in Through the Bathroom Window”Lennon and McCartney’s lighthearted ode to the petty larceny of Apple Scruffs transforms, in Turner’s telling, into something more urgent, and adult: “He said he’d always been a hustler, said he worked about 15 hours a day,” she sings, her gravelly holler rivaling even Joe Cocker’s. (Listen on YouTube)5. “Louie Louie”I’ve already told you: “one of the essential Louie Louie recordings!” (Listen on YouTube)6. “Let It Be”On this closing number from Ike and Tina’s 1970 album “Working Together,” Tina turns Lennon and McCartney’s universal prayer into something more personal (“When I find myself in times of trouble, evil thoughts they come to me, taking away my wisdom”) and political (“When prejudiced people finally agree, open their eyes and they will see”). (Listen on YouTube)7. “Help!”Recorded for her triumphant hit album “Private Dancer,” Turner’s “Help!” teases the pathos out of a jaunty Beatles tune by reimagining it as a gut-wrenching, showstopping ballad that became a staple of her live shows. Tina’s maturity and well-known history bring an added depth to certain lines: “When I was younger, so much younger than today,” she sings with palpable weariness, “I never needed anybody’s help in any way.” Now, she’s ready to testify — and, so vulnerably, to ask for the help she’s always needed. (Listen on YouTube)8. “Proud Mary”Performing a song someone else wrote and recorded this transformatively can become its own form of authorship. This is one of the clearer examples in pop music history: John Fogerty wrote “Proud Mary” but Turner embodied it, rolling, rolling, rolling like that accelerating riverboat, grabbing the wheel and gunning straight for rock ’n’ roll ecstasy. (Listen on YouTube)Big wheel keep on turning,LindsayThe Amplifier PlaylistListen on Spotify. We update this playlist with each new newsletter.“Tina Turner’s Greatest Rock Covers” track listTrack 1: “Come Together”Track 2: “Honky Tonk Women”Track 3: “Whole Lotta Love”Track 4: “She Came in Through the Bathroom Window”Track 5: “Louie Louie”Track 6: “Let It Be”Track 7: “Help!”Track 8: “Proud Mary”Bonus tracksLet me repeat: Wesley Morris on Tina Turner!Also, in 2019, my colleague Amanda Hess interviewed Turner at her Swiss chateau for this absolutely delightful profile. I will forever be thinking about Turner’s deep love of Coldplay and her admirable indifference toward the Chainsmokers.If you’re looking for the hits, Ben Sisario did a great job putting together this playlist of Turner’s 11 essential songs.And if you’re looking for new music, as ever, our Friday Playlist has you covered. This week features songs from Dua Lipa, Jess Williamson, and my favorite album out this week, “Everyone’s Crushed” by the Brooklyn art-rock band Water From Your Eyes. More

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      The Brilliance of Blur: Liste to t

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      The band is back, woo-hoo! Revisit 12 of its greatest songs.Graham Coxon and Damon Albarn, Blur’s two opposing forces, showcasing their late-90s haircuts.Chris Pizzello/Associated PressDear listeners,Last week, out of nowhere, the beloved Britpop band Blur announced a new album due July 21 — its first in eight years. Say it with me now: Woo-hoo!“The Ballad of Darren” — recorded in secret and wrapped earlier this year — will be the band’s ninth album, arriving nearly 35 years after Blur was formed. The group’s discography can seem imposing if you’re not familiar with all of its twists and turns, and don’t have anyone to guide you through it. Luckily, you do not have this problem, because Blur is one of my favorite bands.Blur’s career is all about the friction of opposing forces — and those are, for the most part, the band’s charismatic frontman Damon Albarn and its more introverted but equally brilliant guitarist Graham Coxon. The bassist Alex James and the drummer Dave Rowntree are stabilizers, grounding the band’s adventurous sound.In the liner notes to “21,” a 2012 boxed set compiling material from the group’s first seven albums, Rowntree gave what is still perhaps the most succinct summary of the band’s driving tension: “Graham used to say that he wanted to make an album that nobody would want to listen to. But you can’t do that in a band with Damon.” (If you want to read an extended cut of me geeking out on Blur, I wrote a zoomed-out summary of the band’s first two decades in a review of “21.”)A few notes on this playlist, compiled to celebrate Blur’s return. It’s not quite chronological, but it’s meant to show the breadth of the band’s sprawling career. Only two Blur albums are not represented here, and for different reasons: “Modern Life Is Rubbish,” the sophomore effort from 1993, because I find most songs from its follow-up, “Parklife,” to be better examples of what Blur was trying to do in that era; and “Think Tank” from 2003, for the semi-controversial reason that I don’t consider it a Blur album at all, given that almost all of it was recorded without Coxon and I believe the definition of Blur to be a specific alchemical happening between four particular people. (Albarn has even admitted as much in recent years, joking that, if anything, “Think Tank” was a “LUR” album.)Consider this playlist slightly beyond entry level: Blur 201, if you will. I avoided the most obvious songs, presuming that you’re already familiar with “Song 2” at the very least, and maybe also the band’s era-defining mid-90s hits “Girls and Boys” and “Parklife,” or its 1999 stadium-size weepie “Tender.” If you’re not, check those out when you get a moment. But for now, let’s follow the herd down to Greece and dive in.Listen along on Spotify as you read.1. “Lot 105” (1994)To set the mood: a zany interstitial from the band’s 1994 masterpiece, “Parklife.” (Listen on YouTube)2. “There’s No Other Way” (1991)Blur began life as a prettily vacant Britpop group that was often lumped in with late-80s U.K. subgenres like Madchester and baggy; the best-case scenario, at that time, was it would become the next Stone Roses. I am happy the quartet grew out of this sound quickly, but there are several perfect pop songs on its 1991 debut album, “Leisure,” including the exquisitely bratty single “There’s No Other Way.” The video for this song is important for several reasons: 1) Damon Albarn’s haircut 2) The Lynchian aesthetic that foreshadows the way Blur would soon come to write songs about the dark underbelly of polite society and 3) Seriously, behold Damon’s 1991 bowl cut. (Listen on YouTube)3. “Country House” (1995)Perhaps best known for beating Oasis’ “Roll With It” in the epochal battle of Britpop on the U.K. charts, “Country House,” from the band’s fourth album, “The Great Escape,” is a wickedly catchy sendup of rich people who abandon the urban rat race for lush, secluded digs in the country — and specifically, of Blur’s former manager and label head David Balfe. It also boasts the only music video ever directed by the artist Damien Hirst, who went to Goldsmiths College with three-quarters of Blur. (Listen on YouTube)4. “M.O.R.” (1997)Blur’s 1997 album — yes, the one with “Song 2” — was the band’s most dramatic stylistic pivot: Here was what until then seemed like a quintessentially British band earnestly and somehow convincingly embracing American indie rock. The propulsive “M.O.R.,” though, is a bridge between Blur’s past and future. The chorus interpolates David Bowie’s arch, vampy “Boys Keep Swinging,” even as Coxon’s distorted, disaffected guitar squalls like J Mascis. (Listen on YouTube)5. “Coffee & TV” (1999)One of just a few Blur songs on which Coxon sings lead vocals, the fan-favorite single “Coffee & TV” is at once prickly and sweet, a steadily chugging tune suffused with an introvert’s romanticism. “Sociability is hard enough for me,” he and Albarn sing in wobbly falsetto. “Take me away from this big, bad world and agree to marry me.” I am not exaggerating when I say I still think about that little milk carton guy all the time. (Listen on YouTube)6. “Tracy Jacks” (1994)A sharp, poignant character study of a middle-aged civil servant on the verge of a nervous breakdown, “Tracy Jacks” is a perfect encapsulation of the band’s widening sociological scope circa “Parklife.” (Listen on YouTube)7. “Charmless Man” (1995)And, from around the same time, here’s a much more acidic snapshot of British life: “Educated the expensive way/He knows his claret from his Beaujolais/I think he’d like to have been Ronnie Kray/But then nature didn’t make him that way.” (Listen on YouTube)8. “Go Out” (2015)I love all the weird art-rock textures and sounds that protrude from this jaunty pop ditty from the band’s 2015 comeback album, “The Magic Whip” — a perfect match for Albarn’s caustic, deadpan vocal. (Listen on YouTube)9. “Beetlebum” (1997)In news that does not surprise me at all, Liam Gallagher has admitted that this is his favorite Blur song. War is over (if you want it). (Listen on YouTube)10. “No Distance Left to Run” (1999)Inarguably the saddest Blur song; no, I won’t be taking any questions at this time. If this gutting ballad — written around the time of Albarn’s breakup with the Elastica frontwoman Justine Frischmann — doesn’t destroy your heart, I don’t even know what to tell you. This is the sound of love dying, with a whimper: “I won’t kill myself trying to stay in your life/I’ve got no distance left to run.” (Listen on YouTube)11. “This Is a Low” (1994)Blur constantly wrestles with ambivalence about Anglophilia, but it can’t hide a certain affection toward its native country on this majestic “Parklife” highlight, which was partly inspired by the band’s habit of listening to BBC shipping forecasts while homesick on tour. (Listen on YouTube)12. “The Universal (Live at Hyde Park)” (2012)On Aug. 12, 2012, Blur played a triumphant reunion concert in London’s Hyde Park, following the Summer Olympics closing ceremony. The excellent and inevitably titled live album “Parklive” captures the ecstatic energy of that night — and especially the soaring singalong “The Universal,” which closed the show in grand style. (Listen on YouTube)Well, here’s your lucky day,LindsayThe Amplifier PlaylistListen on Spotify. We update this playlist with each new newsletter.“The Brilliance of Blur” track listTrack 1: “Lot 105”Track 2: “There’s No Other Way”Track 3: “Country House”Track 4: “M.O.R.”Track 5: “Coffee & TV”Track 6: “Tracy Jacks”Track 7: “Charmless Man”Track 8: “Go Out”Track 9: “Beetlebum”Track 10: “No Distance Left to Run”Track 11: “This Is a Low”Track 12: “The Universal (Live at Hyde Park)”Bonus tracksMore exciting news: The New York Times has a new audio app! From time to time, I’ll be recording audio versions of The Amplifier on there, and you can also find Jon Caramanica’s Popcast and Jon Pareles recommending new music, plus a whole lot more Times music content. The app also features read-aloud stories and narrated articles from the worlds of politics, tech, health, food, sports, the entire archive of This American Life and much more. To start exploring, download the New York Times Audio app here. More

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      An Ambient Playlist to Create a Bubble of Tranquillity

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      Listen to 8 airy, cumulous songs (keeping in mind that not all ambient music sounds like this).Never miss a chance to experience Laraaji’s sonic opalescence.Balarama Heller for The New York TimesDear listeners,In times when I need to tune out the busy exterior world and tune into my own subconscious, I turn to ambient music.I have read entire novels — on rush-hour subway commutes, no less! — thanks to the dulcet tones of Laraaji. I retained (most of) my sanity when a new apartment building was going up across the street because of the textured, hypnotic drones of Bitchin Bajas. I have written more articles to the placid soundtrack of Brian Eno’s “Music for Airports” than I can possibly count.Ambient music — a vast and nebulous genre that I’d very loosely define as wordless music that focuses more on atmosphere and tone than on rhythm and melody — has had a surprising and somewhat controversial uptick in popularity in the past decade. It became a common method for quelling anxiety during lockdown, but even before the pandemic it had become something of an ever-present millennial commodity, in the form of endless streaming playlists advertised to help one study, work or just chill.The Canadian experimental musician Tim Hecker called ambient music “the great wellspring — but also the bane of my existence,” in a recent Times profile by Grayson Haver Currin. His reason? “It’s this superficial form of panacea weaponized by digital platforms, shortcuts for the stress of our world,” he said. “They serve a simple function: to ‘chill out.’ How does it differ from Muzak 2.0, from elevator music?”Hecker is definitely on to something. In the streaming era, ambient music has too often been branded as yet another tool for hyper-capitalist optimization — either a way of focusing more deeply at work or relaxing more deeply in order to return to work recharged and ready to be more productive. The actual artistry involved in composing such music, at least according to this viewpoint, is woefully beside the point.In fall 2020, when I had the delight of interviewing the ambient pioneer and perpetual crossword answer Eno, he recalled composing his earliest works of what he called “Discreet Music” in the late 1970s, and voiced reservations similar to Hecker’s. “When I started making ambient music,” he said, “I was very conscious that I wanted to make functional music. At that time, functional music was almost exclusively identified with Muzak — it had a very bad rap. Artists weren’t supposed to make functional music. So, I thought, ‘Why shouldn’t they?’”I appreciate Eno’s challenge that artistry and functionality don’t have to be mutually exclusive. When he considered how he used music in his own life, he realized, “Well, I use it to make a space that I want to live in.” Sometimes that desired atmosphere was kinetic and upbeat, so he’d listen to Fela Kuti all day. Other times, he preferred slow orchestral music. “I started to think, I imagine a lot of other people are doing this as well,” he said. “Ambient was really a way of saying, ‘I’m now designing musical experiences.’ The emphasis was on saying, ‘Here is a space, an atmosphere, that you can enter and leave as you wish.’”In that spirit, today’s playlist is a space that you can enter and leave as you wish. I designed it to be airy, tranquil and cumulous, like a house of drifting clouds illuminated by slashes of sunbeams. Of course, not all ambient music sounds like this. (I love Hecker’s music, for example, but much of it features evocatively woolly textures and a general sense of foreboding that would have felt out of place here.) I tried to find a unifying harmony in the feelings and tones that all of these songs conjure, and, though they’re all very different artists, I found that Julianna Barwick’s heavenly vocal tapestries, Laraaji’s sonic opalescence and Hiroshi Yoshimura’s burbling electronics worked exceptionally well together.Many of these songs have existed in my own life as “functional music,” as Eno calls it, but not just in the soulless “Music for Productivity” sense that Hecker rightly bemoans. I have used some of these songs, time and again, to slow down and daydream. I used a few of them on a playlist at a friend’s wedding that I D.J.ed, for those liminal but still sacred moments when the guests were arriving. I tested this exact playlist earlier this week on a noisy New Jersey Transit train, and it gave me enough mental elbow room to get lost in Annie Ernaux’s gorgeous and immersive novel “The Years.” May this music find its own unique and gloriously unproductive function in your life.Listen along on Spotify as you read.1. Laraaji: “Trance Celestial — Movement 3”A gently luminous slice of bliss from the prolific New Age legend and laughter enthusiast’s 1983 composition “Trance Celestial.” (Listen on YouTube)2. Julianna Barwick: “Envelop”To create the songs on her magnificent 2011 album, “The Magic Place,” Barwick wove layer upon layer of ethereal vocal loops into intricate symphonies of breath. (Listen on YouTube)3. Harold Budd and Brian Eno: “An Arc of Doves”In 1980, for the second album in his Ambient series, Eno teamed up with the Minimalist composer Harold Budd for the evocative “The Plateaux of Mirror.” On “An Arc of Doves,” Budd’s improvised clusters of piano notes glide along the marbled surfaces of Eno’s electronics. (Listen on YouTube)4. Hiroshi Yoshimura: “Feel”A pioneer of Japanese ambient music, Yoshimura’s “Feel,” from his landmark 1986 album “Green,” uses synthetic sounds to construct an otherworldly landscape. (Listen on YouTube)5. Laraaji: “Trance Celestial — Movement 4”Back to the celestial trance already in progress. I love the rippling effect Laraaji achieves here. (Listen on YouTube)6. Mary Lattimore and Paul Sukeena: “Hundred Dollar Hoagie”Though its title is charmingly down-to-earth, the harpist (and, here, synth wizard) Mary Lattimore’s 2022 collaboration with the guitarist Paul Sukeena sounds like a warped transmission from a distant galaxy. (Listen on YouTube)7. Bitchin Bajas: “Pieces of Tape”The adventurous Chicago group Bitchin Bajas create soundscapes of all sorts of tones and textures, but here, on a nearly 10-minute composition from their 2014 self-titled album, they sound like warm-blooded aliens. (Listen on YouTube)8. Brian Eno: “2/2”I just had to include something from “Music for Airports.” Ken Emerson’s 1979 New York Times review of the album is an illuminating time capsule, too. As he concludes, “if it were ever actually piped over the p.a. system at LaGuardia, travelers would either ignore it — or miss their flights.” (Listen on YouTube)Wordlessly,LindsayThe Amplifier PlaylistListen on Spotify. We update this playlist with each new newsletter.“An Ambient Playlist to Create a Bubble of Tranquillity” track listTrack 1: Laraaji, “Trance Celestial — Movement 3”Track 2: Julianna Barwick, “Envelop”Track 3: Harold Budd and Brian Eno, “An Arc of Doves”Track 4: Hiroshi Yoshimura, “Feel”Track 5: Laraaji, “Trance Celestial — Movement 4”Track 6: Mary Lattimore and Paul Sukeena, “Hundred Dollar Hoagie”Track 7: Bitchin Bajas, “Pieces of Tape”Track 8: Brian Eno, “2/2”Bonus tracksJon Pareles’s radiant profile of the 79-year-old Laraaji, from earlier this year, is a must-read.So is Isabelia Herrera’s poignant and beautifully descriptive essay from last year, about how ambient music helped her relinquish control after her mother had a stroke. “In its call to suspend time,” she writes, “the music carries the potential to press pause on the punishing velocity that attends disaster, that robs our attention and predetermines a fixed future.”And I cannot mention Annie Ernaux without also pointing you toward the great Rachel Cusk’s definitive piece on the recent Nobel Laureate.Plus, as always, check out the Playlist for the latest song recommendations. This week, we have new tracks from Blur, Bad Bunny, Anohni and the Johnsons, and more. More

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      in Theater

      Our Theater is Fighting About Diversity. Who’s Right?

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      The magazine’s Ethicist columnist on how to cast an upcoming rendition of “Fiddler on the Roof.”I am involved with a well-regarded community theater that has made significant efforts to diversify its membership, casts and audience. A conflict has arisen over a proposed production of “Fiddler on the Roof.” (Yes, we know, “Fiddler” has been done to death in community theaters. A different issue.) The director proposing the production has committed himself to colorblind casting. Others involved say that, in view of the Jewish community the play is about, they would consider this to be a cultural appropriation. How should we approach this conflict in values? — Name WithheldFrom the Ethicist:“Cultural appropriation” is like one of those discarded medical diagnoses — throat distemper, the vapors — that derive from now-discredited theories, even though they were often applied to genuine ailments. As I’ve argued before, the habit of reducing the complexities of identity and culture to a matter of ownership is an artifact of our own property-rights-obsessed culture. We’ll do better to talk about “disrespect,” and disrespect isn’t the issue here. Jerry Bock and Sheldon Harnick, the Jewish American duo behind “Fiddler,” certainly weren’t hung up on anything like cultural appropriation; early on, they were in touch with Frank Sinatra for the part of Tevye, and a previous musical of theirs centered on a crusading Christian clergyman.Still, readers will have noticed that controversies over casting — in filmed as well as live entertainment — have become commonplace. They enact a seeming clash between two ethical ideals. So it might be worth taking the time to get a clearer sense of the plot here.On the one hand, there’s a concern to create opportunities for nonwhite performers. Why shouldn’t Black people get to play Hamlet as well as Othello? On the other hand, people have asked for more demographic specificity in representation, often invoking authenticity. This approach — which rightly deplores, say, the old Hollywood tradition of whitewashing Asian roles — encompasses “color-conscious” casting and more, so that an Asian role belongs to an Asian actor, a lesbian role to a lesbian actor, a trans role to a trans actor. By the “mixing” logic of nontraditional casting, the performer’s identity doesn’t matter. By this “matching” logic of authenticity, a performer’s identity matters a lot.Each approach can uphold the value of inclusion, and each may present complications. Nontraditional casting can conjure fun imaginative spaces, modeling a world free of racism and, indeed, race. But casting for a colorblind utopia can be a problem when your aim is to depict racial injustice. The authenticity promised by the matching model, meanwhile, often implies that people who belong to superbroad categories of humanity are interchangeable. This talk of authenticity doesn’t explain why it’s a nonissue when a character of Chinese ancestry is played by an actor of Indonesian ancestry or, indeed, when an Ashanti character, from Ghana, somehow speaks like a Yoruba, from Nigeria.Nontraditional casting is of particular value where there’s a tradition to be bucked; familiar works or historical episodes can be experienced in fresh ways. I love that an open-access approach toward the classics has long been common, including in the amateur realm. In high school, I was cast as the menacing Goldberg in Harold Pinter’s 1957 play, “The Birthday Party.” (“Mazel tov! And may we only meet at simchas!”) It was relevant that the play had already been staged countless times; for variety’s sake, it was easy to discount a performer’s ancestry or age.There’s a useful analogy, speaking of Goldberg variations, in the “historically informed performance” movement in music. It’s a gift to be able to hear baroque works performed with original instruments, hewing to ornamentation styles thought to be characteristic of the period. But who would limit themselves to “authentic” performances of Bach’s “Goldberg” Variations — and thus miss the marimba player Pius Cheung’s rendition? Within the realm of musical performance, happily, pluralism reigns.That’s the attitude to take with your “Fiddler.” When a show has been done to death, the task is to bring it to life, so that, in Bock’s own words, it’s “as if the audience were seeing it for the first time.” The truth is that this musical is a piece of American culture, not of shtetl culture; any appropriation was in the making of it in the first place.Mix or match? It depends on the particular ambitions of particular stagings. The ethical error is to suppose only one model is right. If the audience can get over the fact that the people on your musical stage are constantly dancing and bursting into song — as, sadly, people seldom do in real life — it can get over the fact that they might not actually look like villagers from the Pale of Settlement. If you have confidence in your director, let him fiddle with “Fiddler” as he prefers.A Bonus QuestionMy wife drinks heavily, to the point that she often repeats herself while drinking and forgets whole evenings. She already has high blood pressure, probably from drinking. She has a routine exam with a doctor soon. I know that she is not honest with her doctor about how much she drinks or her memory issues. I would like to express my concerns to her doctor, but I know it would anger my wife. What do you think? — Name WithheldFrom the Ethicist:You should express your concerns to your wife in a supportive way, and encourage her to be honest with her doctor. You might get helpful guidance in this by attending a support group for families affected by alcoholism. But the main guidance I have is negative: Inserting yourself into this doctor-patient relationship isn’t the way to go.Readers RespondThe previous column’s question was from a reader who had adopted a dog with her former partner. After their breakup, they agreed she would keep the dog since she was a veterinarian and the dog had various health issues. They also agreed her ex would be allowed to visit the dog. She wrote: “I have since started dating someone new, and he doesn’t like my ex spending time with the dog. I am at a loss about what to do.”In his response, the Ethicist noted: “You made an agreement with your ex about the dog, and though such agreements aren’t beyond renegotiation, you’re right to think that your word should have weight. What’s more, when you are starting a new relationship, it’s important to be clear about boundaries. I would be careful about just giving into your current partner. You’re worried about upsetting him. Equally, shouldn’t he worry about upsetting you?” (Reread the full question and answer here.)⬥A new partner putting up a fuss about honoring an important pre-existing commitment is an enormous red flag. The new partner’s behavior may seem innocuous now, but it is a classic sign of possessiveness that is likely to manifest in worse ways as the relationship progresses. The writer should seriously reconsider the speed with which she is investing in the new relationship. — Megan⬥A secure and healthy relationship allows one to maintain healthy contact with other people. The letter writer should decide what she prefers to do in this situation and see what happens when she makes a choice that goes against her new boyfriend’s wishes. His reaction will reveal everything she needs to know about their possible future together. — Stefanie⬥The Ethicist gave the correct response, but he didn’t state it strongly enough: This new guy is waving a giant red flag. He is asking you to break your word; go against your values (clearly you think of the dog as family deserving family visitation while he thinks of the dog as property) and he is demonstrating marked insecurity. I’m also a vet, and I have plenty of clients who share visitation. It’s unnecessarily cruel to cut off this contact — both to the dog and to the ex. — Maureen⬥Boundaries are definitely the key here. In addition to the boundaries around the new boyfriend controlling who visits her dog, it would also be appropriate to set boundaries with the ex around when he can visit. And clearly explaining to him that she has a new boyfriend may also eliminate the possibility that he’s hanging out with the dog in hopes that you two will get back together. — Brooke⬥I have been in this exact situation, and I loved the Ethicist’s response about boundaries. I was clear with my new boyfriend that I didn’t feel any tie or connection to my ex, but that the ex loved our dogs and allowing him visitation gave me a break and a trusted dog sitter. It was important to me to keep a promise I’d made. That my new boyfriend made this an issue was a big red flag, and I later ended up breaking up with him. — Molly More

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      in Music

      Why I’m Obsessed With This KC and the Sunshine Band Song

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      A deep dive into the 1982 track “(You Said) You’d Gimme Some More.”KC and the Sunshine band, likely demanding more.David Redfern/Redferns, via Getty ImagesDear listeners,Every once in a while, I’ll be telling you about a random song I am currently obsessed with in an attempt to explore the root of this fascination (and perhaps convince you to join me). Today, it’s a little-known gem from KC and the Sunshine Band.Yes, KC and the Sunshine Band. Hear me out.The year is 1982. Seven years after “(That’s the Way) I Like It.” Three years after the notorious Disco Demolition Night. A year after the arrival of MTV.The hit-making formula that had worked so well for KC and the Sunshine Band throughout the commercial height of disco — from 1975 to 1976, they had four No. 1 songs on the Billboard Hot 100! — was not going to cut it anymore. It was the ’80s now. The future. The moment had come to trash the bell-bottoms, buy a bunch of criminally expensive synthesizers, and set a low-budget and audaciously low-concept music video in an abandoned arcade. It was time for “(You Said) You’d Gimme Some More,” the irresistible and barely remembered leadoff track from the Florida band’s 1982 album, “All in a Night’s Work.”I was previously unaware that KC and the Sunshine Band ever sounded like this. There’s a dark intensity to “Gimme Some More” — a warped synthesized bass backbone and a hard-driving, mechanized beat that undercuts those signature blasts of celebratory brass. The first time I heard this track, I could have easily been convinced that it was produced not by the group’s founders, Harry Wayne Casey and Richard Finch, but Giorgio Moroder.I must here confess that the first time I heard this song was not that long ago. And that the reason it came into my life is, shall we say, accidentally Anglophobic: Remember right after Queen Elizabeth died last year, when a bunch of Irish soccer hooligans went viral for singing some regally disrespectful lyrics to the tune of KC and the Sunshine Band’s “Give It Up”? Well, that reminded my boyfriend that “Give It Up” is actually a pretty great song, and when he went to stream “All in a Night’s Work,” he stumbled upon this stone-cold jam.You know those songs that become localized smash hits within your friend circle or group chat? “Gimme Some More” quickly became one of those. It’s now the song I put on when I have control of the aux cord, usually challenging unsuspecting people to guess — just try and guess — who recorded it. A few months ago I made a friend play it in his car and then also forced him to watch the entire seven-and-a-half-minute music video. His verdict: “Something about this guy’s energy is frightening to me.”The Moroder comparison isn’t so far-fetched. The producer behind both Donna Summer’s “Love to Love You Baby” (1975) and Blondie’s “Call Me” (1980) made the transition from disco to new wave about as gracefully as a musician could: His was an aesthetic path worth following. But it’s easy to understand why the ecstatic, upbeat “Give It Up” was an easier sell coming from the “Boogie Shoes” guy than the more aggressive and nervy “Gimme Some More.”I will not vouch for every song on “All in a Night’s Work”; the next track is titled “Party With Your Body” and contains the lyric, “Now Jazzercise is the latest trend.” So to make this journey down the rabbit hole of ’80s KC and the Sunshine Band a little gentler on you, I’ve made a short playlist that throws in a few contemporary Moroder tracks — ones that also bridge those gaps between disco, funk and new wave. I have not secured an abandoned arcade for you to dance in. That work I will leave up to you.Don’t stop what you’re doin’,LindsayThe Amplifier PlaylistListen on Spotify. We update this playlist with each new newsletter.“Gimme Some More (and More)” track listTrack 1: KC and the Sunshine Band, “(You Said) You’d Gimme Some More”Track 2: Giorgio Moroder, “Chase”Track 3: Donna Summer, “Pandora’s Box”Track 4: Giorgio Moroder, “Palm Springs Drive (American Gigolo Soundtrack Version)”Track 5: KC and the Sunshine Band, “Give It Up”Bonus tracksThis week I am mourning the loss, in a brutal Game 7 of the N.B.A.’s Eastern Conference semifinals, of my beloved but singularly star-crossed Philadelphia 76ers. To them, through tears, I dedicate Boyz II Men’s “End of the Road.”And to sweet, 31-year-old Bobi, the world’s oldest dog: Oasis’s “Live Forever.” It is beautiful to me that a dog who was born before the release of “Definitely Maybe” is still alive. More