Here Am I? Then 8 Left Turns

Trying to recreate the serendipity of record shopping via Spotify

Music lovers might not agree on artists or genres or Ten Best lists or any other spurious arbitrary systems designed to rank or organize music. But those of a certain age will, at least, agree on this much: Nothing in the digital realm replaces the discovery serendipity of shopping for music in a record store.

You’d be flipping through a stack and a cover on the wall would catch your eye. Off you’d go to check it out, and something about it would remind you what you came in for, prompting another search in a different aisle. And then you’d get curious about what the clerk was playing. In a matter of minutes, almost without even trying, you’d encounter a series of artists and projects that were new to you.

Can those curiosity-stoking experiences be replicated on Spotify, where there are zillions of songs and an alarming scarcity of cross-referencing navigational tools for finding them?

OK stop laughing. I’m serious. Is it possible to follow what might be called a “discovery thread” to “engineer” encounters with unfamiliar music, starting from a search for a single artist?

Today’s playlist is one attempt at this. It was done quickly on purpose, and the only rule (quickly broken, alas) was that I had to find the next destination (again, an artist or specific album) within the links offered somewhere on the current page. This should have been easy, since below most artist’s discographies are lists of related talents and playlists that aim to broaden a seeker’s horizons – with works in a similar vein. The hitch: Most of those “recommendations” fall close to the tree, under the same genre classification. Which means the browsing is deep but the range of offerings can feel narrow, constricted. Still, this method can put you face to face with unfamiliar music, and I’m sure there are obsessives who’ve figured out algorithmic hacks to increase randomness – please share those if you know any! Here’s the path I followed.

I started out somewhat randomly, with the British progressive rock band Caravan, one of the pioneers of what became the “Canterbury scene” of the 1970s. The records I knew (Cunning Stunts and In the Land of Grey and Pink) were there, but I opted for something unfamiliar: “Here Am I?” from the 1975 Blind Dog at St. Dunstans.

Its wonderful, wide-open groove was like prog with wings, and I wanted more of that; the Spotify database helpfully offered up the Italian group Premiata Forneria Marconi for consideration. I was essentially a newbie, having heard only a few tracks years ago. I dipped into works from several albums before landing on “E Festa” from the band’s 1972 debut Storia de un Minuto. Also wide-open, and super-inspiring! (This piece was re-recorded for the 1973 Photos of Ghosts, which was the group’s first album for Greg Lake’s Manticore label.)

This made me curious about the broader category of Italian rock, and I randomly clicked on a “Similar Artist”: The short-lived La Locanda della Fate, also active in the ‘70s. Never heard of ‘em. Lovely surprise.

Needing to move out of this little cul-de-sac, I clicked impulsively on a track included on a Psychedelic Rock playlist – “My Woman’s Head” by Sly Stone and the Mojo Men. This turned out to be a “not quite”: Early in his career, Stone worked as a producer for several Bay Area acts including this unexceptional band. As far as I can tell, he does not contribute as a musician to this album.

The link-following began to feel like a dead-end: Everything was under the bell jar of Progressive Rock or Psychedelia. I needed something closer to the earth, so I asked Spotify to show all its holdings for the towering and underappreciated Cuban guitar legend Arsenio Rodriguez. Sound quality of the various compilations varied wildly, and as often happens in streamingland, some works attributed to Rodriguez were actually tributes. This remastered “Son Pachanga” shows why he was so revered.

Following that reset, I was albe to roam into a playlist with a recent work by the veteran pianist and composer from Uruguay, Hugo Fattoruso. He led a tremendous band, Opa, that explored jazz fusion via Brazilian and South American rhythm, and that music, along with his solo projects, has been sampled by Madlib, Flying Lotus and others. This track from Trio Oriental shows why.

That led to a 2015 album I’d missed from the South African pianist Nduduzo Makhathini, a jazz musician who writes lyrical, deeply melodic compositions that are alive with spirit. This one only lasts 2 minutes and is my new favorite thing.

Makhathini now records for Blue Note; hearing him made me wonder about new releases from South Africa. Here Spotify did not disappoint: A user playlist included a track from Kanke, the 2020 second album by a neo-soul quartet known as Seba Kaapstad. It’s got smartly minimal accompaniments that align it with neo-soul, but the stirring vocals put it into a different realm. Plus, it’s available on Bandcamp! (Today’s Bandcamp Friday, meaning that the service waives its fees to artists! A great way to support creative work!)

Searching on Bandcamp for Seba Kaapstad, I encountered a nice coda for this journey: A deftly synthesized rendition of a Brahms intermezzo by an artist called Moon Mullins. It’s another track I would not have found on my own, not without extensive search-term contortions. Check it out synth freaks….it’s also on Bandcamp.

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