2023 In 10 Songs

The music that mattered to JEP this year

This was a momentous year at JEP. We got married, celebrated grandson Beau’s first birthday, lost some dear friends to the inevitability of time, made some new friends, traveled a lot (Cabo, England, Ireland, Vietnam, Bali, Thailand, California, Savannah, Asheville, and a six-day cross country drive), and, with a very strong team in place, incorporated as a 501c(3) to launch a new local radio station in 2024 (stay tuned).

Things left undone in 2023 include losing 10 pounds, cleaning out the garage, lowering our handicap by 6 strokes, and doing at least a little bit of yoga so that it doesn’t take a full five seconds to get out of a chair. So much to do, so little time!

So yeah, a lot happened in 2023 and it had a lot of variety. The thread that held it all together was music. Whether it was our marriage, driving through Arizona or Alabama, or remembering an old friend, music was ever present. According to Spotify, we listened to 3,131 songs across 76 genres for a total of 29,314 minutes; that doesn’t count vinyl, CDs, or radio and other streaming sources like Apple and YouTube.  

“Without music, life would be a mistake,” said Nietzsche. That might be overstating it somewhat, but not much. Music expresses things words simply can’t. It heightens our senses and defines our memories. It changes the chemical balance of our bodies. It matters.

Here is the music that mattered to JEP in 2023, reduced to 10 songs. They’re not all new songs and some are very old. For a “best of 2023” list, go to the New York Times and you’ll find a list of bands you won’t recognize. This playlist is simply music that broke through for us in 2023, regardless of vintage. If there’s a common theme, I guess it’s one of optimism, joy and redemption, with a little bit of humor. And a good beat — you can dance to every one of these songs except, perhaps, for the Honorable Mention, which has its own set of virtues.

Go ahead, download the playlist and spin it on Christmas Day or New Year’s Eve. I guarantee at some point someone will say, “Hey, these are some good tunes you have on.” At the very least, no one will complain.

“Embryonic Journey,” Jefferson Airplane. This little gem, which clocks in at less than 2 minutes, was included on the Airplane’s classic “Surrealistic Pillow” album from 1968. It’s a finger-picking solo by guitarist Jorma Kaukonen that never fails to comfort and makes the air seem a bit brighter, which is probably why it was chosen as the soundtrack for the closing scene in the finale of “Friends.” Jorma is still picking and grinning today, and the song sounds as fresh now as it did in 1968.

“Someone Like You,” Van Morrison. When Mary and I began dating in 2022, Van seemed to be always present, from the lyrics of “Did Ye Get Healed/And the Healing Has Begun,” which we quoted to each other in early emails, to the performance we saw in Saratoga, Calif. For a while, we had “Poetic Champions Compose” on repeat forever, the centerpiece of which is this song (“But just lately I have realized/Baby, the best is yet to come”).

“Fitzpleasure,” alt-J. I first heard this song watching a surfing video of Kai Lenny on YouTube, which I’ve since been unable to relocate. Kai’s surfing is something to behold, but this song took it to a different level. It pumps and surges, collapses and rebuilds, exults and dives, sounding like it launched out of a laboratory of dub-pop, electronica, and field chants. It’ll get you going.

“Dinosaur,” Joey Pecoraro. Joey’s probably best known for his mash-up of Erroll Garner’s “No More Shadows,” which Adele then remade into “All Night Parking.” Joey’s an old soul in modern garb and “Dinosaur” is an absolute pleasure (“I had the feeling that if I could speak to someone familiar — somebody I loved — that I could pull myself together,” intones the narrator in the intro to this evocative collage of synthesizers and old tape). I’ll take another Old Fashioned, bartender.

“Texas Sun,” Leon Bridges and Khruangbin. We saw Khruangbin at the Greek in Berkeley last year and they were a revelation — one long groove-fest of bass, drums and guitar. For this record, they teamed up with the down-home soul of Leon Bridges — an unlikely match that ended up hitting a walk-off home run. Go ahead and try to wear out this song — it won’t work.

“Stay High,” Brittany Howard. Brit broke out of her band Alabama Shakes for the solo album from which this song is taken. It’s funky, light and fun, with a beat that won’t quit (“There comes a time, there comes a time/At night, where we get to play/And we smile and laugh and jump and clap/And yell and holler and just feel great”).

“It’s Not Easy,” Extra Golden. Team a couple of adventurous musicians from America up with a couple of adventurous players from Kenya and this is what you get — a light romp of Afro-funk and guitars that explodes with hooks and charm. It all sounds as natural as a sunset. If the word “groovy” didn’t already exist, we’d have to make it up to describe this song.

“Little White Dove,” Jenny Lewis. This song is insistent and a little dark, which makes sense given that Jenny wrote it about reconciling with her mother while she was on her deathbed. The bridge is a little weak, but the bare-bones honesty of the overall song makes up for it.

“Long Black Electric Cadillac,” John Hiatt. This is a newer song, but John still feels as comfortable as an old pair of shoes. He has so much fun with this tune, a romp through EVs, AI, and blowhard politicians that goes down like 12-year-old bourbon.

“Survive,” Lane 8. The kids introduced us to Lane 8, an EDM veteran who, when he’s at the top of his game, crafts gems like this — soaring anthems that slowly expand into denouements of ecstasy. Just open up and let it happen.

Honorable Mention: “Coyote,” Joni Mitchell from “The Last Waltz.” This is simply a master class in song craft — melody, lyrics, and performance. Surrounded by The Band at their final performance at Winterland in 1976, Joni is mesmerizing in this song about a brief affair with Sam Shepard. She makes the intricate phrasing, the dense lyrics and wordplay, and the jazz-like tempo seem effortless.