Friday Morning in Four Records: A Sonic Odyssey

The morning starts like a slow-motion car crash, the kind where you see it coming but you can’t quite move fast enough to stop it. The coffee’s burnt, the fridge is empty, and your head’s still tangled in the dream you barely remember. It’s the kind of morning that demands a soundtrack, something to match the chaos, the existential dread, and, maybe—just maybe—a flicker of redemption.

Creme Soda – "Tricky Zingers"

The first record of the day isn’t a wake-up call—it’s a nudge, a smirking hand on the shoulder telling you to shake off the cobwebs. Tricky Zingers is a relic of the ‘70s underground, a garage-psych gem that never got its due. The opener, Give It Up (Man), slinks in like an old friend who never left town, a bluesy, fuzzed-out groove that doesn’t rush, just coaxes. It’s the perfect antidote to the groggy despair, a reminder that even when the world feels like it’s running on fumes, there’s still a guitar riff somewhere willing to pick up the slack.

Third World War – "Third World War"

Then comes the crash. You’re awake now, whether you like it or not. And nothing slaps you in the face quite like Third World War’s self-titled debut. This is the sound of England's underbelly in the early ‘70s—revolutionary, pissed off, and louder than hell. Ascension Day storms in with jagged guitars, sneering vocals, and the kind of pub-fueled anger that turns broken pint glasses into political statements. You sip your second coffee like it’s a Molotov cocktail, suddenly remembering every reason why the world is doomed. But, in that distortion, there’s something invigorating—proof that at least someone else was just as furious as you are now.

The Associates – "The Affectionate Punch"

The rage burns itself out, leaving only a cool, spectral afterglow. That’s when The Affectionate Punch slides in, a perfect counterbalance. Billy Mackenzie’s voice floats in like cigarette smoke in a neon-lit alley, the synths and post-punk guitar lines making the room feel bigger, the morning somehow softer. The title track is all drama, romanticism, and nervous energy—perfect for staring out the window and pretending you have a handle on your life. By the time A Matter of Gender rolls around, you’re somewhere between melancholy and clarity, like you’ve just walked through the wreckage of your past and come out the other side, blinking in the light.

Lee Konitz – "Lee Konitz with Tristano, Marsh & Bauer"

Now, the only thing left to do is exhale. The frantic pulse of the morning settles into something smoother, something measured. Lee Konitz’s alto sax rolls in like an old friend—effortless, conversational, cool. The interplay with Lennie Tristano’s piano is like watching two masters carve sculptures out of silence, each note deliberate yet unpredictable. You pour another cup of coffee, this time just to enjoy it. The chaos of the morning isn’t gone, but it’s been rearranged into something that almost makes sense.

By the time the record ends, the day has started for real. The world outside is waiting, indifferent, relentless. But at least you had this—four albums, four states of mind, a Friday morning soundtracked to perfection.