In the Sun Kil Moon track “Glenn Tipton,” Mark Kozelek opens Ghosts of the Great Highway with these memorable lines:
Cassius Clay was hated
more than Sonny Liston
Some like K.K. Downing
more than Glenn Tipton
Some like Jim Nabors
Some Bobby Vinton
I like ‘em all
Boxing heavyweights, Judas Priest guitarists, and old-time crooners. After name-dropping these greats, Kozelek drives home an important point: his broad affinities countermand rivalries or comparisons. The D Man understands.
My favorite law school professor wrote that my interests were “catholic” (universal) on my letter of recommendation. It was one of the nicest compliments I’ve been given. The late Morgan Shipman was an imposing gray-haired intellectual at the twilight of his career. He was a Texas-bred product of another age, as evidenced by his collection of colorful suits and large, sweet-smelling pipe that hung from the side of his mouth. When he taught, he lurched all over the classroom and waved his arms excitedly when he struck gold with a quip. He was fantastic.
I excelled in Professor Shipman’s Property course, taught his prep class, and worked for him over the summer. Our conversations in the school eatery ranged all over the field – art, politics, religion, geography – and I believe he sensed in me a kindred spirit who was likewise enamored with the life of the mind and the heart. When an interviewing attorney later questioned his use of the word catholic in my letter of recommendation (apparently finding it confusing or potentially offensive), I realized I would have little interest in working with her or her firm. My seemingly broad sensibilities stretched only so wide for some people.
My music tastes have followed this same catholic path—I like ‘em all. I find immense satisfaction in the aesthetic achievements of all-time greats. I seek after the truly inspired and inspiring. I have cataloged popular music history and know most of its byways and detours. But I also derive deep pleasure from visiting the underappreciated or middlebrow. The only sin, in my view, is to confuse sublime artists with lesser ilk, to forget where you are on the map, to elevate the low over the high, or to force more meaning upon something that merely exists, at best, for passable enjoyment. Aesthetic distinctions do matter. Weighing and considering is still a prime directive. But personal preferences may rein in our better angels, and that kind of musical off-roading is fine by The D Man.
I have early memories running from this song to this song to this song. The Beach Boys coincided with The Beastie Boys. U2 cassettes were swapped out for L.L. Cool and Kool Moe Doe tapes traded place with The Police. I have vast reservoirs of 80s lyrics – from soft rock to hair metal – embedded in my cranium. I can lodge Christopher Cross in my brain even after listening to something like The Skeleton Tree. I plumb the depths of Radiohead one day and succumb to the lesser spells of Coldplay the next. I really like Carly Rae Jepsen. Rock, new wave, hip-hop, folk, and electronica all hold court and vie for my attention. Lines blur. Appreciation grows and diminishes. Whatever remains ultimately wins my deepest affection and loyalties.
This year’s list veers and then straightens out—some low at the edges with some clear-cut high at the top. Excellent records from Mac Demarco, Fleet Foxes, Drake, Iron & Wine, Future Islands, King Krule, Spoon, Fionn Regan, Real Estate and Mew were considered and then left out in the cold. (U2's new record just dropped today and sounds really promising). You have always trusted The D Man to make tough decisions. Liking them all just makes it a little more painful.
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