Back From the California Coast

Marcia and I made it home from our California Coastal trip last night, part one of which was described here. We drove the southerly route this time, from San Clemente to Sedona via San Diego and Phoenix, with hiking stops in Cleveland National Forest and Yuma, Arizona, on the way back. It’s something of an amazing smorgasbord of geology to make that drive: we started at sea level on the Pacific Ocean, climbed up to 6,000+ feet above sea level in the National Forest, then dropped back down below sea level into the Imperial Valley and El Centro, then steadily back up through various desert regions (including spectacular sand dunes right along the border of Mexico), then finally returning to our red rocks region at 4,500 feet above sea level. Lots to see, lots to do, most of it fabulous to look at. Katelin and John came out and joined us in San Clemente for a few days, so that made the trip even better.

We had done a trip last summer that covered the coast and inland regions from The Russian River Valley up to the northern California coast. This time, we covered Los Angeles down to the Mexican border. So with international travel still seeming iffy for us in the near-ish future, we’re already plotting a summer 2022 driving trip that will start in the Los Angeles region and end in the Bay Area, given us a full north-south path through the Golden State. Tacking on earlier trips to Death Valley, Yosemite, and the Lake Tahoe regions, and we’re finding California to be a fantastic vacation resource for us from our home state next door. As we look to our next adventure over that way, I share some snaps from our last trek below. As one does. When one is me. Click on the sunset view uphill from the San Clemente Pier to see the full collection.

Hello 2022: Live from the California Coast

Having bid adieu to 2021 last week, Marcia and I loaded up the family truckster and headed west for California. We spent two days in Palm Springs, and made a day trip over to Joshua Tree National Park (with a swing by the infamous motel where Gram Parsons died) while we were there. Then we drove down to San Clemente for a two-week stay in a lovely AirBnB condo right near that town’s North Beach. We greeted the new year with a quiet evening of Netflix and Chill, nothing notable or special, but that was okay.

We’ve been walking and hiking every day, and have also made some road trips up to Los Angeles (where I, of course, had to visit a list of prominent music-history sites) and San Juan Capistrano, where the swallows are not resident at this time of year. Katelin and John will be flying over from Las Vegas this weekend to join us for a few days, and we’ll be driving back to Sedona after they head home. (Speaking of home, and in exciting family news, they are closing on a new house this morning!) Weather has been lovely for most of our trip, and we’re safely enjoying the change of scenery, actively conscious and mindful of the latest eruptions in the seemingly-endless Anno Virum.

As I always do, I’ve been snapping sites and scenes, and have posted a gallery of our adventures thus far. You can click on the image of me sitting at the highest point in San Clemente to see the full gallery. I’ll likely add a second one when we get home next week. Until then, be safe, be smart, and here’s hoping that 2022 doesn’t bring us anything close to the litany of horrors that 2021 perpetuated upon us all!

2021: Year in Review

With Christmas behind us and a road-trip to California on the horizon this week, it seems like a good day to sit and settle up the scores for 2021 here at my website, as I normally do at this time each year, plus or minus a few days. Unless I get ambitious, or someone I care about deeply passes away soon, this will likely be the final post of the year, for better and/or for worse.


In 2020, I surprised myself by publishing 147 posts, the most I’d done since the Poem-A-Day Project in 2004. Retiring from full-time work certainly gave me more time to write, as did COVID-driven cancellations of planned travel, and the need to fill socially isolated time in some satisfying and/or productive fashions. Traffic was robust in 2020, too, with other similarly isolated folks seeking to fill their own suddenly-surplus time online, a trend which I explored more fully (and made future forecasts regarding) in my Coronablogus post last month. For 2021, this post is Number 120, marking about a 20% decrease over last year’s rate of production, in terms of actual new entries on the site. But even with that smaller number of entries, the overall site readership trend was positive, as shown below. (Actual numbers are  edited out, as it’s tacky to share them, and the trend line is what matters; the light-blue pipes are total unique page visits, the dark-blue pipes are total unique visitors, so both grew in 2021):

I’ve owned this domain since the mid-1990s, but prior to 2015, I split my writing between a variety of sites with a variety of hosts, so there’s no easily meaningful visual comparison to make from those times. But at bottom line, the last two years have been quite good ones here, from both audience-engagement and writer-productivity standpoints, things that I most certainly would not have predicted in 2019. Of the 120 original posts this year, 57 were part of the second Favorite Songs By Favorite Artists series, which seems to be popular. I was originally thinking I’d carry it on into 2022, but after a few weeks off, I think it has run its course, and I’m going to put it to bed, for now.

As I report each year, here are the baker’s dozen most-read articles among the 120 new posts here over the past twelve months. It’s probably indicative of the fact that both my readers and I are (mostly) folks of a certain age that obituary-type posts fill such a sizable portion of the most-read roster. Our long-time heroes are leaving us, even as we contemplate our own collective mortality, especially during this, our Anno Virum. On the flip-side, I would note that two of the most life-affirming events for Marcia and I this year (our daughter’s wedding and our adventure in Grand Canyon) also made the Top 13, so it’s good that nice news appeals sometimes as well. Then there’s the odd dichotomy of having had a bit of life-affirmation by returning to our first in-person musical performance since COVID hit us, then seeing one of the artists who sang for us passing away mere weeks later. Both of those reports make the Top 13 below, as do four of the “Favorite Songs” entries. So there’s a bit of everything, tone-wise, which I suppose is just fine and dandy:

And then here are the baker’s dozen posts written in prior years that received the most reads in 2021. It always fascinates me which of the 1,000+ articles on my website interest people (or search engines) the most, all these years on since the first 1995 post on the earliest version of this website. (Note that I exclude things like the “About Me” page or the generic front page from the list, even though they generate a lot of my traffic). Once again, here’s hoping that people realize that the perennially-popular “Iowa Pick-Up Lines” post is a joke, and also, once again, it continues to befuddle me, as always, why my 1999 interview with relatively-obscure guitarist Dave Boquist appears on this “most-read” chart almost every year, receiving far more hits, continually, than my many other interviews with many other far more famous artists. Go figger . . .


See this earlier post: Best of My Web 2021


We will see 2021 off, God willing and the creek don’t rise, from a condo in San Clemente, California, where we’re headed this week for a winter getaway. After years of somewhat absurd levels of travel, 2021 was quite benign for us: we only spent time in six states, as opposed to the 20+ I’ve experienced for much of the past decade. As I looked at my annual travel map, below, (I’ve pre-filled in our trip to San Clemente, with a planned stop at Joshua Tree National Park), it occurred to me (initially) that this was the first year in my entire life where I never spent any time east of the Mississippi River. But then, as I looked closer, I realized that, yeesh, I never even made it east of the Continental Divide in 2021. That’s a pretty profound paradigm shift, given my deep roots in the Carolinas, and our long stints in New York and the Midwest. If I can do so safely, I do intend to visit my mother in South Carolina in early 2022, and Marcia and I are cautiously hopeful that we may be able to consider international travel again later in the year, if we can do so with undue fear for our personal health and safety. I guess if we had to have a limited travel year, we couldn’t have picked a better place to do it from than our new home in Sedona, Arizona, as there’s plenty of stuff to do and see hereabouts, without having to fly or drive far to achieve the full experience.


See these three earlier posts:


See this earlier post: Best Books of 2021


See these two earlier posts:

AND  THEN . . . .

. . . onward into 2022, with a very deep sense of unease about the ways in which our Nation seems to be careening toward institutional racism and fascism and theocracy. It’s truly frightening to see how the will of a determined minority, intent on using every lever of power available to them (legal or otherwise), seemingly takes priority over the desires and wishes and votes of the remaining majority of the population, among which I count myself. Which is so sad, on so many planes, particularly for someone who once proudly served the Nation as a Federal employee and an active duty service member. Here’s hoping that a year from now, I’ll feel better about these things. But I doubt that’s going to be the case, alas, even if I don’t regularly write about such things here, because I don’t feel like I have a lot to add to the narrative, and it’s intellectually depressing to continually wallow in it.

On a brighter note, I’ve mentioned in passing a few times here over the past year that I’ve been hard at work on a book with long-time friend and Naval Academy classmate Rear Admiral Jim McNeal, co-author of The Herndon Climb: A History of the United States Naval Academy’s Greatest Tradition, which I reviewed here. Jim and I have a contract with McFarland, a publishing house based in North Carolina, to deliver a complete manuscript by the end of January 2022, with publication hopefully targeted before year’s end. If you’ve ever mucked around with the publishing industry, then you know that “instant gratification” is not in cards on projects like this one.

We finished the main-line text (about 75,000+ words) last week, and I then had the pleasure of taking the digital version of it to a local print shop, producing the first physical version of the text for compilation and copy-editing purposes. Our skilled editor is hard at work on the manuscript, per the photo below. And here’s hoping that when I do next year’s version of this annual report, I’ll be able to point you toward a purchase site to acquire our book, should you be interested, and that we’ll be (a) past the worst of the pandemic, and (b) not living in a political place that would make the most dystopian fantasist shudder with revulsion.

I don’t know whether I’ll continue in 2022 to churn out the piffle and tripe at recent levels, or whether your collective engagement with the site will continue to grow and expand. (One of the nice things about doing this as a labor of love, and not a labor of commerce, is that the thought of less traffic in the year ahead does not cause me any agita). But regardless of how all of those things turn out, I will forever be grateful to those of you who care enough to continue supporting my creative endeavors, right here and right now, and I wish all of you and all of yours the very best over the days and months and years to come!

So, did you mean “Let’s eat, Grandma” or “Let’s eat Grandma” here?

Ten Songs You Need to Hear: Crimbo Version

I’m on the record here as being deeply averse to most of the standard and stock “Christmas-season” music that’s blared and broadcast across our public spaces here in the United States of Commercia, from just before Hallowe’en-time until about the point when everyone has had the chance to return the gifts they didn’t want for store credit, to be applied to something that they’d actually selfishly prefer, in lieu of something that they were selflessly given. Oh Holy Night, indeed, the stars are brightly influencing, and it is the night of the dear Amazon’s sales!

Snark aside, I always make a Christmas playlist for our home consumption to avoid the usual musical dreck pushed our way at this time of the year. As a very early riser, I thought I’d share ten of this year’s very favorite Christmas songs before anybody else arises hereabouts. (Consider it a double whammy bonus entry of my “Five Songs You Need to Hear” series).  I must note that “Christmas Songs” is somewhat loosely defined here, in that these tracks mean and speak something to me at this time of year, even if it’s not obvious as to why that’s the case. Music matters, with deep associations to be felt and experienced, outside of any defined normative rosters of that which we must hear and consume today, because Mammon says.

I’m sincerely thankful to each and every one of you who has read my piffle and tripe here over the past year, and I’m grateful for the little community we’ve built, especially in times where real world community is hard to come by. Here’s wishing you and yours a joyous seasonal celebration today and in the weeks to come, and if any of these ten songs brighten your day(s) just a little bit over that time, then I’ll consider my work here done for the day.

“Joy,” by Apollo 100

“Christmas Now Is Drawing Near,” by COIL

“Santa Claus Is Sometimes Brown,” by El Vez

“Jólakötturinn (The Christmas Cat),” by Myrká

“Santa Claus Go Straight to the Ghetto,” by James Brown

“Song of the Snowy Ranges,” by Robbie Basho

“Santa’s Got A Bag of Soul,” by The Soul Saints Orchestra

“A Christmas Song,” by Jethro Tull

“A Joyful Process,” by Funkadelic

“A Dream of Winter,” by Sun Kil Moon and Jesu

Favorite Songs By Favorite Artists (Series Two) #57: The Gods (And Related Bands)

Note: For an index of all articles in this second “Favorite Songs” series, click here. For a summary of all artists covered in the original series, click here.

Who They Were: This article probably sits alongside my Human Sexual Response and Tragic Mulatto entries in the “Favorite Songs By Favorite Artists” series as a document of the most obscure artists included in my final published roster. Which is quite weird, on some plane, given the somewhat jaw-dropping membership of The Gods and their ancillary ancestors and descendants during their short-ish run in the ’60s and early ’70s. So let’s start here: imagine that I posited to you a story about a hypothetical band whose members included Mick Taylor (The Rolling Stones), Greg Lake (King Crimson and ELP), Ken Hensley, Paul Newton and Lee Kerslake (all Uriah Heep), John Glascock (Carmen and Jethro Tull), Brian Glascock (The Motels),  Cliff Bennett (The Rebel Rousers), and Alan Kendall (The Bee Gees), among several others of less notoriety. You’d likely roll your eyes about such a music-nerd fantasia, pat me on the back patronizingly, and try to shuffle on to have a more lucid conversation with someone laboring under fewer weird rock-flavored delusions. But in that hypothetical scenario, and in real life, I’d actually be speaking the truth, about a real band of incredibly influential players, whose successes mostly came after their youthful times making music together in the bands discussed here today. The earliest trunk of The Gods’ family tree featured a band called The Juniors, founded in 1962 and featuring Mick Taylor and the Glascock Brothers. By 1965, Ken Hensley had joined, and the group had rebranded itself as The Gods; they played a legendary opening set for Cream at Wembley’s Starlite Ballroom, and later replaced The Rolling Stones as the featured house band at The Marquee Club in London. After releasing several singles and a pair of albums as The Gods, the ever-morphing group re-tooled with former Rebel Rouser Cliff Bennett as their vocalist, re-branding themselves as Toe Fat, and releasing two more albums under that name. They also released a notoriously raunchy one-off disc called Orgasm in 1970, using various personal aliases, and operating under the band name Head Machine.  By 1971, the evolving lineage finally fractured, with its current and former members going on to their various better-known successors. The lost hero over the evolution of all of these groups and all of these albums was unquestionably guitarist Joe Konas, who appears on, sang on, and wrote numerous key songs for the various groups throughout their runs, but without achieving the same level of latter-day fame and success that his band-mates did. But he was a brilliant player, and crucial to the various groups’ stories, so I must note his essential contributions here for the record, even if you’ve not likely heard of him before, nor are very likely to hear of him again.

When I First Heard Them: As discussed in my Uriah Heep entry in this series, I first heard of The Gods and Toe Fat after scoring The Heep’s 1975 Best Of collection, which included a great “Rock Family Trees”-style graphic on its back cover showing the various group members’ activities before and after their service times with The Heep. But it was not until I was well into the Internet-era of the mid-1990s before I was actually able to score and hear any albums or singles from The Gods-to-Toe Fat lineage, given their relative obscurity, especially here on American shores. I wrote an article in 2001 describing my adventures in and love for the musical genre I’ve described as Heavy Organ Music, and The Gods, Toe Fat, and their related bands are cornerstones in the evolution of and history of that particularly awesome style of rock music-making. I know that I’d found and heard and loved all of the core albums released within the primordial pre-Uriah Heep Family Tree by the time I wrote that article, now 20+ years ago, and I can happily report that those rare records continue to spin regularly hereabouts, living their digital afterlives to the fullest extent possible, at least as far as my own listening experiences are concerned.

Why I Love Them: I’m not sure that I can improve upon what I wrote 20 years ago when I first discussed these groups on this website, and explained why I loved them, so I quote from the original “Heavy Organ Music” article below, in answer to the question of why I love The Gods, Toe Fat, and their extended kith and kin:

I’m a total sucker for a special certain kind of music that was fairly widespread and even (occasionally) popular in the late ’60s and early ’70s, but that doesn’t really seem to have any direct modern analogues. I call this genre Heavy Organ Music, though I don’t think anybody else does. You can generally describe it as mid-tempo, choogly rock (complete with appropriately widdly guitar and ram-a-lam drum solos), fortified with strong, typically baritone male vocals and cemented together with swirly, gurgly organ parts, usually played on classic Hammond B-3 or Vox Continental organs. Or other combo organs of the era, Farfisas and the like. You know the sound. Organy.

A great example of Heavy Organ Music is Ball by Iron Butterfly, which puts its better known predecessor, In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, to shame in terms of quality songwriting and performance. The Butterfly’s Doug Ingle delivers perfect bari-vox and organ textures throughout Ball‘s run, atop the muscular Lee Dorman-Ron Bushy rhythm section, as Erik Brann slings some serious riffs and chops on his six string axe, while also providing sensitive lead vocals on set closer, “Belda-Beast.” Ball was released in early 1969, which puts it right smack in the middle of the Heavy Organ Era, a great time in musical history when long-haired, hard-working rockers hauled giant keyboards around the world in order to deliver the groove to their hungry, happy audiences. Think Steppenwolf’s big hits (“Born To Be Wild,” “Magic Carpet Ride,” “Rock Me,” etc.) for another quintessential benchmark of that audio era. Oh, to get back to the Garden!

I went on from that introduction to specifically discuss the various and sundry bands further addressed in this article, even if I did not explicitly cover them in its introductory paragraphs. And I do the same below. In terms of making decisions on what to include here, and what not to include here, I’ve essentially decided to focus on the main-line Gods’ Family Tree, but to excluded any of the “famous” bands with whom they played in their later years, e.g. Jethro Tull, ELP and Uriah Heep. So, for example, I would not include anything played by the late and lamented John Glascock during his stellar time with Carmen and Jethro Tull, but I do include an obscure track by the less-well-known Chicken Shack (most remembered these days, if at all, for birthing Christine Perfect McVie’s career), where his bass work played a huge role in that fabulous group’s macro-level creative successes. I also didn’t include any “second-order” bands in the lineage, e.g. John’s brother, Brian Glascock, played in the outstanding Octopus (see item number two, here), whose other members then went on to perform with the well-known Split Enz; there are no Enz tracks in the Top Ten list below, as I have covered them elsewhere. (For the record, John Glascock was one of my very favorite musicians in the 1970s, and his untimely death touched me deeply. Don’t steal my idea, but I’ve long believed that there’s a great book to be written about the “behind-the-scenes” careers of the Glascock Brothers, and the ways in which they influenced and played with so many killer bands and artists, so that may become one of my background writing projects at some point in the years ahead of us). Since there are so many permutations of players represented in this article, I’ve been more explicit than usual in terms of accreditation where necessary. They’re all obscure, but they still  deserve proper respect and acknowledgement!

#10. “Daughter of the Hillside,” from Imagination Lady (1972), credited to Chicken Shack (feat. John Glascock)

#9. “Candles Getting Shorter,” from Genesis (1968), credited to The Gods

#8. “That’s My Love for You,” from Toe Fat (1970), credited to Toe Fat

#7. “Towards the Skies,” from Genesis (1968), credited to The Gods

#6. “Bad Side of the Moon,” from Toe Fat (1970), credited to Toe Fat

#5. “Misleading Colours,” from Genesis (1968), credited to The Gods

#4. “But I’m Wrong,” from Toe Fat (1970), credited to Toe Fat

#3. “Sticking Wings On Flies,” from To Samuel A Son (1970), credited to The Gods

#2. “The Wherefores and the Whys,” from Toe Fat (1970), credited to Toe Fat

#1. “Lovely Anita,” from To Samuel A Son (1970), credited to The Gods

Favorite Songs By Favorite Artists (Series Two) #56: Jed Davis (And Related Bands)

Note: For an index of all articles in this second “Favorite Songs” series, click here. For a summary of all artists covered in the original series, click here.

Who He Is: I’m deep in “year-end list” mode at this point, but I do pause on that annual endeavor to return to this ongoing series of “Favorite Songs By Favorite Artists,” to celebrate a particular favorite. Jed Davis is a Long Island-bred singer-songwriter-keyboardist with a stunningly deep and broad history as both as a live performer and studio wizard, working since the early 1990s as a solo artist and as the primary creative talent behind a variety of stellar bands, including Skyscape, The Hanslick Rebellion, Jeebus, Sevendys, and others. In both his band and solo endeavors, the list of players who have been excited to work with him is somewhat mind-boggling, with the likes of Chuck Rainey, Reeves Gabrels, Anton Fig, Jerry Marotta, Sheridan Riley, Ralph Carney, John Sebastian, Brian Dewan, Tony Levin and many others appearing on his records, of which there are a lot, over the years. (Long-time collaborators Mike Keaney and Alex Dubovoy may not have the same public cache as those previously-mentioned players, but I’d be remiss to not include and celebrate their contributions to Jed’s catalog over the years). Without a shred of hyperbole, I would easily and readily declare Jed to be one of the greatest American songwriters of the past half-century, and unlike a lot of his music-scribbling peers, he’s also capable of standing on stages and earning equal respect as one of the most talented and bracing live performers of that period as well. Jed lived and worked for quite some time with The Ramones’ behind-the-scenes genius Arturo Vega (RIP, alas), working on their Rise and Shine musical for many years. (I visited Jed at “The Ramones Loft” a few times when he was living there, and Artie and Jed gave me a mini-tour once, e.g.: “Here is where Dee Dee burned a hole in the floor while cooking smack.”) Jed also had the most exquisitely rare experience of knowing what it felt like to front The Ramones, when he had the opportunity to sing his song, “The Bowery Electric,” at CBGB, with most of the then-surviving members of The Ramones and their close production associates behind him, celebrating the life of fallen-to-cancer singer Joey Ramone. (Jed had written the song while walking around the Lower East Side in the rain after missing a train on the day that Joey had died). If his musical accomplishments weren’t enough to commend him, Jed is a stellar visual artist as well, who works in design and lay-out for a major national publication during his day-time hours, while also creating equally amazingly artistic presentations for his own work, in the hours between the hours.

When I First Heard Him: There are “I know” and “I think” aspects to answering this question with regard to Jed’s career and how it entered my consciousness. I know that I saw him deliver one of his epic solo piano performances at Mother Earth Cafe in Albany around 1995, when he was a student at the University of Albany. And I think that I saw his then-band, Skyscape, play an early opening set at Albany’s legendarily grotty live music venue, Bogie’s, around that same time, but as a local college band, they weren’t properly introduced, so I can’t swear that it was them, except that my memory of the sounds and visuals of what they did aligns with what I later learned about Jed’s musical career and history. I know that the first record of his that I enthusiastically reviewed in print was We’re All Going To Jail! (1997). And the first times we actively communicated were when I was booking shows for the Time Warner Cable music television show, Sounding Board, which featured a live Collider performance, and when I was doing a feature piece for Metroland right at the turn of the millennium, and I interviewed Jed for his thoughts on keyboard technology at the time. (That article earned a “Best of My Archives” nod a couple of years ago, here). Jed and I have orbited each other in various capacities in the years since then, and I’ve remained a staunch supporter of his work all along the way; a search for “Jed Davis” on my website reveals just how many times I’ve written about him over the years, and he remains one of my most favorite creative types, doing just absolutely brilliant work, year after year after year. I’ve already featured him twice here over the past twelve months, applauding the series of career-spanning digital EPs he has recently released, and placing the compilation version of those same EPs in the Top Ten of my Best Albums of 2021 report.

Why I Love Him: On a top line basis, this is an easy one to answer: because Jed Davis is an objectively and absolutely genius creator, as a songwriter, as a singer, as a player, and as a visual artist. When you encounter someone with the degrees of talent which Jed possesses, you’d be a fool not to love the resultant work emerging from that talent’s wellsprings, and a knave not to try to share its brilliance with others. When I focus on Jed’s musical efforts (given the point and intent of this series) and think about what moves me most, the things that pop to mind are that he’s got an incredible gift for crafting resonant songs and melodies, that he’s got the technical chops to do justice to his vision with his own playing, and that he understands the value of collaboration deeply enough to surround himself with the absolute best talent available to him to bring his songs to life. As a lyricist, Jed is a keen and astute observer of the world around him and of his own human condition, and he’s also funny as hell when he wants to be. Some of his very best songs find that rare and perfect sweet spot where the bitter and the sweet cross paths, leaving us listeners to make strange faces and feel confusing emotions that may be happy, or may be sad, or may be something inexplicable and special between those points, all of our buttons pushed, just so, by the genius of his songs and story-telling. At bottom line, I love Jed Davis as a writer, as an artist, as a singer, as a player, and as a dear friend. My life is richer for knowing him and his works, and I am thankful and grateful for that, always.

#10. “The Bowery Electric,” from I Am Jed Davis (2009), credited to Jed Davis

#9. “Happy Black Steamroller,” from Song Foundry 3-Pack #004 EP (2021), credited to Jed Davis

#8. “Big Hot Monday,” from The Rebellion Is Here (2007), credited to The Hanslick Rebellion

#7. “Mock Cheer,” from WCYF (2003), credited to Collider

#6. “Yuppie Exodus From Dumbo,” from “Yuppie Exodus From Dumbo” single (2010), credited to Jed Davis

#5. “City Of My Dreams,” from Song Foundry 3-Pack #002 (2021), credited to Jed Davis

#4. “1991,” from WCYF (2003), credited to Collider

#3. “O Death,” from Song Foundry 3-Pack #004 EP (2021), credited to Jed Davis

#2. “Across A Thunderstorm,” from Song Foundry 3-Pack #002 (2021), credited to Jed Davis

#1. “Who’ll Apologize for This Disaster of a Life,” from “Who’ll Apologize for This Disaster of a Life” single (2017), credited to The Hanslick Rebellion