Roughly two years ago, I sought out a quieter way of life in the Hudson Valley and called it hibernation. In truth, it was closer...

I can count on no fingers the times I’ve won something. Ok, perhaps I’m exaggerating. There’s a hazy memory lodged somewhere in my teen years...

Like many listeners, I came to know the jazz pianist Vince Guaraldi from A Charlie Brown Christmas, the 1965 album he released with his trio,...

I entered this year craving deep solitude. It spurred my decision to leave Toronto, reaching for subsistence in a less-populated city where I wouldn’t face...

From the outset, I was drawn to how it starts: upright bass, guitar, and tres announcing themselves as a singular strum in Dm—their different timbres...

Lately, I’ve been working on excavating my scream. I have a long history of letting anger decompose into anxiety—a natural byproduct of growing up around...

Last month, I finally saw Bonnie Raitt live. On a cool summer evening, I made the lengthy drive over to the Bethel Woods Center for...

Musically, the end of a romance usually lives in melancholy tempos and minor keys. Breaking up, so they say, is hard to do. No matter...

Growing up, the anodyne American rock of the Eagles regularly soundtracked my weekends. Not by choice. Like many children up until a certain age, I...

I’ve reached the age when bands I adored in my budding youth have started celebrating the kinds of protracted milestones that glaringly underscore how much...