Midweek Mashup Mixtape
Catching up on music, with recommendations that span generations. And a farewell to a friend.
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“How Soon Was Now? The Smiths 40 Years On” - the event I presented at the Orpheum Theatre in Saugerties this last weekend – proved a roaring success, at least if the packed theatre and standing ovations were anything to go by. The latter, I hasten to add, were not for me, but for the one-off tribute group (which I will take credit for curating) who performed four songs relevant to the Meat Is Murder period that I based the presentation around. These were “Please Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want,” “Barbarism Begins At Home,” “Rusholme Ruffians,” and the song that the event was named for, “How Soon Is Now?”
This group ranged in age from 15 to 60 – a suitably groovy differential of exactly 45 years, highly meaningful considering that The Smiths released eighteen 7” singles in five years – and included three current students from the Rock Academy: Miles Amitin (15), Ally Argueta (18) and Sam Taylor (16), who were joined by the highly experienced rhythm section of percussionist Joe Magistro and
(not that they had played together in 20 years or so), and my younger son Noel Fletcher (20), an RA graduate who had also performed at my (similar) R.E.M. event at the Orpheum two years ago. Collectively, they were magnificent, turning in a faithful yet restrained performance in an environment that could not host them as a full-volume live band.It struck me that for the young ones playing songs in 2025 from 1985, it was the equivalent of a teenager in 1985 finding feeling in the music of Frank Sinatra or Lionel Hampton from 1945, which speaks of course to the enduring power of the R&B/R&R/Rock revolution. In fact, one adult attendee messaged me the next day to say that “When the band was playing How Soon is Now I found myself tearing up. Completely out of the blue and unexpected. Lovely.” Hopefully you get the same vibe…
I was additionally happy that “How Soon Was Now?” came off so well given that I went down with a bad virus last week, one that I almost certainly brought back from the UK with me, and from which I recovered only just in time. But I hit the ground running this past Monday morning, enjoying that buzz that comes from feeling better again, from clearing this last set of hurdles, and as inevitably happens under such scenarios, my first thought was to catching up … So, here’s a Mash-up of a Mixtape of mainly music-related recommendations, tips, articles, and occasional gratuitous plugs for friends and acquaintances.
Let me start with the next generation. The current crop of students from Rock Academy – from which I “graduated” in January after seven wonderful years directing shows there - seem to have spurred each other into writing songs, recording songs, forming bands to perform them if need be, playing gigs if desired, and primarily, doing the part that counts, getting the music out there.
Top of the pops is the trio of young riotous grrrls, Mona Freaka, whose suitably energetic debut release, “Dark of The Night,” is followed this very Friday by a new song, “Melancholy,” which suggests a change of musical mood. Two of them are heading off to the same college this summer so I don’t expect this project to be abandoned any time soon. Besides, there is this gig below, which features some of the RA boys in the opening bands, Lowlight and Rhythm Rivival, including Miles Amitin, the 15-year old you can hear on slide and lead on “How Soon Is Now?” above.
Lucinda Jennings is one of those rare young people who has the voice, the work ethic and the positive demeanor that makes working with her an absolute pleasure, always. (I recall her spending much of an RA Pink Floyd rehearsal meticulously doodling around my cast list, which she presented to me afterwards topped off with a hand-drawn smiley face; these are the precious memories that we hold onto, literally in this case.) Under her own name, Lucinda just released her debut single; as I’ve tended to see her primarily with a guitar for accompaniment over the years, the production caught me slightly on the hop, but it is good. Check “How It Feels” for yourself.
And longer-term graduate Luella Roche – who supplied me with the best excuse ever for being late to rehearsal (“my parents are high maintenance!”) – has finally followed up her debut EP with a new single, “Naive,” plus accompanying videos. Luella is the oldest of three Roches who seem to have the professional music gene running right through their veins: middle brother Fionn Roche bounced straight from schooling to a road career playing drums and other instruments with a veritable who’s-who of contemporary names (that I don’t recognize!), and youngest brother Ronan has teamed up with a couple of similarly-aged mid-teens of equal pedigree for Roche Collins, a trio that has been gigging relentlessly round the area and whose debut EP is forthcoming. The Roche parents by the way, are as cool as they come, never high maintenance in front of me, and were able to laugh off Luella’s description as all loving and supportive parents would... I will be honest and say I much prefer the Lyrics video to LUELLA’s “Naive” over the full-scale production, it speaks more to the character I know and remember, and lets the song breathe more in the process. So here it is:
And did I mention that three current Rock Academy students – all of whom were in my final show, 70’s Sirens – won a Grammy? I was in the UK at the time, and had no idea the children’s album on which they sang, Brillo, Brillo by Lucky Diaz and the Family Jam Band, produced by Kenny Siegal at his wonderful Old Soul house studio in Catskill, had been nominated, let alone that his daughters Phoebe (14) and Ava Seigel (10) were taking the trip to LA for the ceremony alongside Kenny and fellow singer, mom Gwen. (Dad, apparently, is a member of the Recording Academy; the third young RA singer on the award-winning album Ruby Horner, stayed home.)
Imagine my reaction process when I woke up to a video text from a mutual parent friend: it rapidly went from a sleepy “Why did someone send me a video by text of an awards ceremony?” to “Hang on, even on a small video on my phone, I think I recognize those kids,” to “Holy Fucking Shit! Phoebe and Ava are on the stage accepting a Grammy!” As I told Phoebe and Ruby a couple of weeks back, when I returned to Assembly in Kingston to see the incredible Stevie Wonder RA show, I can finally add the words “has worked with Grammy winners” to my resumé/CV.
What I truly loved about their visit to the Grammys is that while you can see the magical delirium in their faces when they are on the edge of the stage during the acceptance speech, their own youth and fandom was revealed when they got to meet their idol Cynthia Erivo afterwards; she gave them ample time to be emotional and recompose themselves and was kind enough to congratulate them on their own achievement.
Entertainment Tonight closed out an episode with an edit of the above that also shows the young duo on stage for the award, which I can not find in isolation; however, Phoebe shared it on her IG page, and I would love you to visit the post to see something so sweet (beamed to millions). In the meantime, and partly because I won’t have more chances in the future, here is 10-year-old Ava belting out “I Will Survive” at our 70s Sirens show.
Sticking on live music before we get into new releases, I am posting this the (tired) morning after going to see Dean Wareham at the Bearsville Theater in rural Woodstock. I love Dean’s music whether it’s solo, or with partner Britta Phillips'; whether it’s present (per new album That’s The Price Of Living Me) or past (Luna’s exceptional back catalogue), it is just about perfect. (Read my review of Dean & Britta’s 2024 Christmas album with Sonic Boom, A Peace Of Us, for elaboration on this notion.)
That perfection extended to the show, which was hypnotic, peaceful, beautiful and while loud in places, highlighted the Bearsville Theater’s exceptional natural sound quality. Britta joined Dean onstage throughout, her voice and posture giving the performance that extra je ne sais quoi as always; I missed the names of second guitarist and drummer. The show was poorly attended, as shows by interesting acts in Woodstock often are. But lack of commercial success is the theme that has run through Dean’s career, including the truly excellent memoir Black Postcards and the exceptional film of Luna’s last tour before the proper break-up (naturally they reformed in recent years), Tell Me Do You Miss Me? I’m tempted to include a clip from the song with that lyric (“23 Minutes In Brussels”) but as it was about the only Luna song performed last night and Dean was promoting new music, I’ll go with one of the fresher ones instead.
Alright, what else is going on? Morcheeba recently returned with their 11th studio album, which means I have a LOT of catching up to do. Truth is, that until my friend Bleddyn told me while I was in London that he was off to see them at Crystal Palace Park this summer, I actually had no idea that the trip-hop pioneers were still going. Chalk that down to my own ignorance, or their lack of American media attention, because Escape The Chaos is every bit as good as I remember any Morcheeba record. It’s hard to find a fave track, especially on an album that seems to get better as it progresses, but let’s try “Peace Of Me,” featuring rapper Oscar #worldpeace.
While we are talking trip-hop, Ben Cardew just put out an excellent post about One Dove’s debut album, Morning Dove White, itself in response to a recent Pitchfork revisitation which suggested it is a Lost Classic. I see it more as a Lost Opportunity, and Ben does a great job of explaining why, but those early Weatherall productions and remixes… oh my beating heart!
My friend Chris Coco, with whom I enjoyed a typically upbeat (and admittedly Foyles’ brand caffeine-fueled) catch-up while in London, does not fall under trip-hop. But nor does he find himself easily filed under house, or ambient, or electronica. He would probably be happy if you called him Balearic - which according to Peter Trudgill in The New European is descended from the word Greek word Ballein, which means “to throw” and was apparently the original name of the Balearic Islands, “whose inhabitants apparently had a reputation among Ancient Greek navigators for employing catapults or slingshots as weapons.” Going ballistic in the Balearics is no longer just a saying (if it ever was), but etymologically accurate!
But I digress, slightly. Chris’s brand new, umpteenth album, is entitled for the nickname he was given during his full-summer sunset-hour DJ sojourns on the Balearic Isle off Ibiza in recent years: Coco de la Isla. This is, of course, a take on the great flamenco singer Camerón de la Isla. (Though when I say “of course” I am demonstrating a level of absurd elitism or a lazy use of a colloquialism, because until I started studying flamenco in detail this year, I did not actually know of Camerón, whose own nickname translates as “shrimp,” but who was in fact the rock star of modern flamenco. He also died a rock star’s early death, something that is recounted along with his entire back story on the 2018 Netflix series Flamenco Revolucion.)
Coco de la Isla reflects Chris Coco’s own standing within the Ibiza crowd – “a misfit on an island of misfits, too mild a hedonist for the extremes of the climate and the company” – with an eclectic collection of equally mild-mannered tracks that ebb and flow with the sunset tide. I have to choose the debut track, “La Guitarra,” because it too, fits in with the theme of my mini-thesis.
So many albums, so little time, especially now we live in a world where musicians don’t “age out” and new artists release more music than ever. How about the 28th album by Sparks? It’s MAD! Every song makes me smile and for all the right reasons, but I was especially taken by this dedication/devotion to long-suffering but equally long-lasting couples everywhere:
Arcade Fire are back with Pink Elephant. “Circle Of Trust” jumped out at me. Garbage are back with Let All That We Imagine Be The Light, telling us on the opening track “There’s No Future In Optimism.” Bollox! My entire life has been built on optimism. But second song “Chinese Fire Horse” jumped right out at me, expletive-ridden chorus included. Pulp are back, again, and one of my Substack-supporting friends, Patrick Carmosino, who rented a car to attend my Smiths event from NYC last weekend, suggested that “Spike Island” is so good I should have it on permanent rotation (more or less, I paraphrase). So here it is; the album More is out tomorrow. (BTW, Spike Island was the brand worn by every Manchester City fan I saw at the FA Cup Final who wasn’t wearing official club merch.)
Also back in the fray are Bob Mould. Doves. Edwyn Collins. And your uncle, no doubt.
The Beths have new music, though “Metal” is anything but (metal); it’s the most indie-pop jangle I’ve heard from them, and I appreciate that they released it on my birthday. (I didn’t know you could release a song on a Sunday!)
I wrote about Ukraine’s prolific electronic musician 58918012 here. The brand new Moving Rearward is at least his third full-length release of 2025, this one a collaboration with singer ummsbiaus, whose “voice will touch your hearts and souls literally from the first seconds,” he promises of “five beautiful and deep compositions about love and love's death.” Support them both with a purchase and Stand With Ukraine while you are at it.
The Lathums are my friend Tony Page’s fave band. As long as he also loved Supergrass, whose stomping beats leave their imprint all over new single “Heartbreaker,” I am with him. And I like the simplistic joy of the lyrics video.
If you’re newish to this page, Tony and I have a band together. It’s called The Dear Boys, and we put out our own lyric video two singles ago… (We also have new music coming very soon.)
My other project, Hudson Palace, with partner Paula, has a new single coming even sooner. It’s called “Holding Hands With Strangers,” it is out on June 27, and it is our first original composition. Previously, we did fun cover version stuff like the below, which I am super proud of and was so happy I could play my mum, who always loved the original, on her 90th birthday.
As yet, I’ve only heard this one new track from the album Chuck D Presents Enemy Radio: Radio Armageddon. It’s called “New Gens,” it popped up on my Qobuz New Release playlist and I most certainly did not need to stop and check the name of the artist. After all, Chuck D has a voice we recognize, a voice we need, and for all that he has spouted the occasional crap over the years, I have found him willing to argue his case in the court of interviews, having had that pleasure three times back in the day.
I mention Chuck’s occasionally spurious lyrics because I informed author Daniel Rachel about them in Islington’s wonderful The Compton Arms during my long stay in the UK this winter. Daniel, who I hosted a talk with about his 2Tone book Too Much Too Young at the Orpheum a few months back, has a new tome out this fall, I mean autumn. It is this, it is out on All Hallow’s Eve, and it is published by White Rabbit, who I would love to see publish one of my books one day (I mean it, I love their catalogue):
My younger son Noel has been pounding me with new recommendations of late. All of them are female-fronted, and when I told him as much, he said he didn’t give a shit whether it was male or female vocals. But subconsciously, either he does, or we have to face facts: that as with trip-hop back in the day, there is a certain indie music that just sounds better when female-fronted. I will remain ever grateful he turned me on to Ratboys – here is the account of the gig we attended together in Brooklyn last year – and here are some more of his road-tested recommendations. Mamalarky from LA via Austin:
Thanya Iyer from not-sure-where, erroneously filed under jazz by Qobuz, but who has a fact-filled Bandcamp page (except for location) and this song from 2025 album TIDE/TIED (enough with the all-caps people!) has a lovely video you’ll find via the link below:
And the prolific Eiko Ishishabi from Japan by way of Drag City, whose latest album Antigone also came out this year and from which I am selecting “Coma,” as it too has a lovely video you can find via the link below:
If my recommendations today all seem a little lightweight, there is always the
, which continually goes deep on its selected new releases. And if you like the short sharp jabs yet want just a bit more detail, try Matt Fish’s “9 New Releases You Should Listen To Now [June 2025].” Or Music of Africa, which is constantly sharing great music new and old, such as the new compilation Zulu Guitar Blues. Or you can check , whose june women of ambient post is so extensive it’s amazing she finds time to record her own music too.
Indeed, there is so much quality music writing on Substack, enough to fill a stack of monthly magazines. Most of it is available for free. May I suggest, then, that readers consider assigning the cost of such a magazine, especially one like Mojo or Shindig! that Americans have to buy on import, and assign it to a valued writer or three on Substack. Naturally, I would appreciate if you would consider choosing Wordsmith, as I put in an enormous amount of time here for what it is still minimal income, but as I always say, if not me, please support someone else. Your independent writers thank you.
I have recently started listening once more to David Hepworth and Mark Ellen’s ever entertaining Word In Your Ear podcast, though WHY they insist on mixing with one of them panned left and one right I really don’t know. Anyway, they recently waxed hysterically about teenage boys and food, related to a friends’ e xpensive festival visitation. I recommend any parent of any teenage boy ever listen in from around the 22-minute mark to reminisce, hopefully with humour and a bit more money in the bank account than back in the “feed-me” days.
On a more recent episode, they also vamped with true feeling about the sudden loss of their friend, former Hot Press/MM/Smash Hits writer and editor Barry McIlheney. I did not know Barry well, though he was clearly one of a kind, but I share some of their thoughts about the process of passing, the male need to hide behind laughter, and am duly forewarned that true loss only hits you a year after the event.
This gives me a good place to close out. Unlike my mother’s funeral, where the vicar forgot to start the streaming/filming that I had checked on multiple times in advance, my friend – and yours, whether you know it or not – Mike Peters was sent off in the true rock’n’roll performance style he would absolutely have loved. And as befits a man who always had a plan, and was blessed with a team by his side (including wife Jules Jones Peters) to ensure it always went off accordingly, his funeral service was livestreamed and is archived now on YouTube. It is, really, much less a funeral than a celebration inside a church. I laughed and, yes, occasionally I cried. I do wish I could have been there in person, truly. I am grateful that I got to witness it all the same.
Loved "I am a boy" and thinking of your mum Ruth RIP xxx
Mona Freaka thanks you profusely for this awesome shout out!!!