just like music
The thrill of bonding with a stranger over a shared favorite band // the importance of music, self expression, and interesting brand activations - even when the world is on fire
(Yes, you should have Erick Sermon and Marvin Gaye playing in your head right now. You’re welcome).
This week, I was lucky to be invited to a private listening party at the Hotel Chelsea to celebrate Wrensilva’s newest models of handcrafted record player consoles.
Context - I am not working with this brand (although I would love to) but a friend was kind enough to bring me along, knowing how much I love music, design and real, old New York.
It was truly the perfect place and way for a brand committed to the enjoyment of music to launch in New York, as the Hotel Chelsea is like a living graveyard of music, pushing boundaries and expression. Filled with art from a vast range of artists and photographers - those who were there, those were it, those who want to reinvent the spirit of those times - it was so comforting to see the spirit of the Hotel Chelsea preserved by the management firm behind the restoration.
Too often, late stage capitalism seeps in and once cool places become Disneyland versions of their former selves. With the history and artists who lived within these walls, I’d almost rather see it bulldozed than see it filled with selfie spots and merch.
So, to experience a private listening party with music curated by The Hotel Chelsea’s own music historian, William, was one of the coolest brand activations I’ve seen in a VERY long time. Although I’m sure they never would call this a brand activation. There were no instagram moments. I didn’t see any content creators. I just met a lot of very interesting people who were there to experience music and chill.
It ended up being one of those New York nights when too many interesting things happen that are too significant to just be chance. While catching up with my friend, I realized I knew the beat of the song playing. And then checked my phone to see if I had forgotten to turn off Spotify (it happens) but no - the music curator put on my new obsession, Fontaines DC.
I immediately stopped talking to my friend and rushed over to introduce myself to the guy with the record in hand and we proceeded to gush over the music coming out of Ireland, Wales and England these days. How it’s actually so fucking good. And how they’re redefining punk without the suck of heroin and toxicity and depravity (well, maybe a little).
We then talked shit about how depressing the John Varvatos takeover of CBGBs is. I visited the location last year, when I realized I was in the neighborhood, and just wanted to cry. There’s nothing sadder than being a place that once housed rock legends - that is now filled with sales people measuring the inseam of fintech bros.
We ended our chat agreeing how refreshing it was to find good, modern music again - and how only places that like allow strangers to connect deeply over a good song.
I had just about given up on modern music. With so much going on in the world, I’ve been wondering: where is Zach de la Rocha? Where are the bands that are exciting? Who do I actually want to listen to?! And then, though I hate to give credit to a tech platform that has also flattened culture, sometimes the discovery tools work and you’re fed something you actually love.
That’s how I discovered Fontaines DC, down a rabbit hole influenced by my eclectic mix of rock and punk and Irish folk music, both new and old. I’ve been a diehard Glen Hansard fan since Once came out, and have seen him at least 10 times - including a midnight showing for 100 super fans at the Housing Works Bookstore on Crosby Street where we met Curtis, his treasured sax player, outside and then I got to hug Glen after the show and almost died of happiness.
Listening to Fontaines DC is fun - especially Starburster. So to have that record, and that song, played when I was not expecting it, felt surreal. And, though I discovered them on Spotify, listening to them played on a Wrensilva record player in the living room of a suite in the Hotel Chelsea drinking a Monkey 47 Gin & Fever Tree tonic was a whole sensory experience I will never forget.
Which leads me back to the importance of music and discovery and showing up.
When I was a teenager, my cousin Mike was in several pop punk bands and was the coolest person I knew (he is cringing if he is reading this). He’s the one who took me to Joey Ramone’s posthumous birthday party at CBGBs. I don’t know what inspired him to do this, but one Christmas he gifted me two CDs. Bringing me into a room away from the large family party downstairs, he handed over two albums - Surfer Rosa by The Pixies and Raw Power by Iggy & The Stooges - that he said would be the foundation of my music collection for life. He was right.
Imagine being a disgruntled teenager and hearing Search & Destroy for the first time?!
So it was another shock when I saw an Iggy album on the mantel at the Wrensilva party.
Later that night, when I got back into my car to drive back to suburban NJ, Debaser by The Pixies came on. And yes, I blasted it like Paul Rudd and relished in the basicness of being 40+, having an evening away from my toddler and missing my glory days.
I texted my cousin Mike the other day about Fontaines DC and another band I thought I had discovered, IDLES, and he responded something like: “oh yeah, those guys are great. I’ve known them for years and their recent album is amazing.”
Of course Cousin Michael knew them.
This interchange - although it makes me wish people like Mike shared what they’re listening to more widely - was just more confirmation that we are in a moment. There is good music being made by contemporary musicians. AND the songs we belted out and cried to as teens have a huge impact on who we become as adults. Or so I choose to believe.
Maybe that’s why we are in such a moment for nostalgia. It’s no surprise given how hard it is to view the future right now, less than 20 days out from the US presidential election. It’s like every meme about our email jobs while society is plagued by actual end-game circumstances, and we all keep doing our silly little jobs.
But we have to keep doing our silly little jobs, because the alternative is just too bleak. We have to keep creating. And building. And connecting. And fostering community.
And to do this, and keep creative strategists like me busy and working and fed, more leaders and founders need to understand this subtle nuance when it comes to creating and branding. You have to take some risks, you have to do some things that make sense in your mind but not on a spreadsheet.
And if you don’t have the vision for what that could be, you need to find - and then listen to - those that do.
This was the exact conversation I had with Wrensilva CEO Greg. He talked about creating his first model because he wanted something he actually enjoyed looking at and would be proud to feature in his own home. People have questioned him and cautioned that there wasn’t a market for such a product - and that has only fueled his desire to keep building in a way that may not make sense on paper. But that’s exactly how they will be successful, to those that matter.
It reminded me of working with the visionary Thierry Nataf at Zenith Swiss Watch. His exuberance and commitment to design and art and living life to the fullest was intoxicating to be around. He told me a story of a different brand, Carl F Bucherer, creating a minute repeater that sang - and so, they sourced the wood for the watch box from the same place that top violin makers did to create just the perfect sound.
No bean counter would ever approve that commitment of resource. But for those who appreciate that level of commitment and detail, it’s priceless and oh so worth it.
Because as stressful as life can be, and as challenging as marketing can be during difficult times, you have to keep going. If only to support those musicians who are capturing our feelings and thoughts and desire for life, and then making music we can shake our asses to.
But it’s those moments of joy - good food, good music, good times - that make it all worth it.
And if you’re looking for a new song to listen to, full blast while driving in a cross-over with the windows open and no one around to see you moshing like the anti-establishment beast you once were - check out “I’m Scum.”
Who was I kidding - wearing JNCOs in 1995 was not anti-establishment.