Farewell, September

...and onto the Next Thing....

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So here we are at the end of the month, the end of the Third Quarter 2025, and I’m getting twitchy listening that 1978 radio hit “September” by the brass-heavy, funk-pop legends called Earth, Wind and Fire. It’s not that I’ve overplayed it. It so happens that I hear this gorgeous arrangement of bass guitar, guitar and horns played with such sincere, infectious joy and I realize I’ll never hear another group of African Americans making music like this ever again. Just the same sullen, vulgar, knuckle-dragging hip-hop, the same as it ever was since it utterly annihilated what was left of post-disco soul/R&B in the 1990s.

My grief for a popular culture long departed is turning me against my entire playlist. It’s not just the superb musicianship and production. There’s a raw, organic energy to it all, actual emotions expressed. It’s gotten so bad I go entire evenings without bothering to listen to anything. Popular music is dead. The songs we have are all that is left, and I feel like I’m dancing with ghosts—and, no, it’s not nearly as cool as it sounds. It’s sad. Sometimes I’d rather listen to the sounds of barking dogs and cars outside than be reminded, “These things are gone forever/Over a long time ago,” as one of my favorite Steely Dan songs goes.

The real trick here is not to let the kakistocracy fatigue embitter me. We are coming to the end of the age, as Christ Jesus described it. The evil that rules this world now will tolerate no joy, no beauty whatsoever. Everything is ugly and deformed, shrill and cacophonous, and we’re commanded to love it, because you’re a fascist Nazi bigot if you don’t.

Meanwhile, if the chemtrail haze isn’t too thick, there’s always a pretty sunset. And the barking dogs, and the cars passing outside. This much is still with us.

Won't Someone Please Buy Me a Wholesome Beverage?