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Richard Feynman, a Nobel-winning mind used curiosity, clarity, and a bit of showmanship to change history. In a piece that captures that rare mix of brilliance, mischief, and pure joyful curiosity, Contributing Author and Historian Bill Bois delivers a wonderfully bright portrait of the physicist who treated the universe like a favorite percussion instrument.
Contributing Author And Chart Historian Ozmoe serves up the second installment of his three-part comparative retro-chart odyssey, with the sort of numerical precision that suggests he may actually dream in the Billboard font. It’s a sharp, surprising, and groove-filled look at musical scorekeeping of the 1970s.
Some album titles are clever, the kind that make you knowingly nod and smile. Others? They sound like they were a product of a debate in the recording studio parking lot. Contributing Author Rollerboogie investigates the fine line between inspired wordplay and full-on naming regret.
Prompted by a commenter’s observation, this brand new edition of Record Relays turns music discovery into a puzzle worth solving, weaving artists together through unexpected collaborations and deep-cut gems. Enjoy a clever musical treasure hunt crafted by Contributing Author Chuck Small – a writer who always knows something about a perfect needle drop.
November ’75 had it all: Freddie arguing with a jury? Donna turning a song into a 17-minute experiment in… enthusiasm? And a football player’s backup band cruising through town? Contributing Author DJ Professor Dan dives headfirst into a month where rock went operatic, disco got dangerously long, and funk cruised like it owned the strip.
I poked around the odd corners of four artists’ musical tastes and ended up with a few unexpectedly gentle discoveries. Call it a quick walk through the back rooms behind the stage lights—quieter, more reflective, and much more revealing than advertised.
Somewhere between awe and mild panic, you’ll wonder how anyone could track every year-end hit this precisely. In the first of three parts, Contributing Author and Chart Historian Ozmoe delivers a treasure trove of charts that makes you admire the effort and secretly hope you never have to do it yourself. This week: The 60s…
He scored five Top 40 hits and then pulled off the rarest trick in pop: vanishing so completely that even Google seems a little unsure about him. Contributing Author Music Historian gamely follows the breadcrumb trail of Dean Esposito, a man who briefly ruled the charts and then slipped into the witness protection program of 90s music trivia.
Contributing Author and Record Collector Chuck Small takes us through K-Tel’s Sounds Spectacular, a 1975 collection so stuffed with hits it’s practically bursting at the grooves. From Rubettes’ truncated charm to Gloria Gaynor’s disco fire, it’s a record that both dazzles and occasionally asks, “Really? That edit?”
With a folk-rock scripture lesson on one side and a sonic demolition derby on the other, November 1965 turns out to be one of those months where pop culture accidentally overachieved. It’s all courtesy of Contributing Author DJ Professor Dan, who cheerfully reminds us that the distance between King Solomon and The Who is shorter than you’d expect.
It’s November 1955, and the airwaves are thick with sweat, smoke, and the occasional baritone moral crisis. Three songs: “Sixteen Tons,” “Folsom Prison Blues,” and “Cry Me A River” show that even in Eisenhower’s America, sin and sorrow could still top the charts.
Contributing Author DJ Professor Dan sifts through the dust, danger, and dinner-jacketed despair to tell us why seventy years later, these songs still sound alive.
Deliver Me From Nowhere lingers on a conflicted artist and the making of the seminal Springsteen album Nebraska. Contributing Author Bill Bois guides us through the intimacy, the music, and the quieter corners of The Boss’s world.
It’s the debut of Contributing Author Music Historian, dutifully surveying the foggy landscape of the forgettable 1990 year of pop: where charted hits came and went without fanfare. No judgement here: we promise not to keep score of how many you’ve forgotten to remember.