Björk’s 2007 Volta kicks off with the militant marching of “Earth Intruders,” a Timbaland production, in which he incorporates African kora into the mix. “Innocence” sounds as if Street Fight sound effect is weaving into hip-hop big beat. “I See Who You Are” is slow and mesmerizing with a wicked Asian vibe supplied by Min Xiao-Fen’s spellbinding pipa. “Hope” turns up the Latin groove a notch with pumping bass line. “Declare Independence” makes both personal and political statements. The electro-punk beat hits hard; her voice hits harder. Now, more than ever, we need to raise our flag and fight against authoritarianism. Volta is a masterwork of resistance.

Elevator in Sài Gòn is an investigative novel written in Vietnamese by Đoan Ánh Thuận and translated into English by Nguyễn An Lý. For most books, I prefer reading the original language over the translation, especially in Vietnamese. Since I don’t have access to the original book and a friend had vouched for Ms. Nguyễn’s translating skills, I gave Elevator in Sài Gòn a read. Because this book is a deceive fiction, I don’t want to give away the plot.

Indeed, Ms. Nguyễn is an excellent translator. Here’s an example: “The saying goes, a seventeen year old can break a buffalo’s horn, but in his experience a nineteen year old can’t bear much, neither physically nor mentally, especially when already suffering from a fatal obsession.” Yes, trai mười bảy bẻ gãy sừng trâu indeed.

Apparently, Ms. Thuận is a well-known Vietnamese novelist and yet she was unknown to me until now. I got a kick out of the sex scene, especially this line: “He even, once, asked to see my vulva, and he looked at it with such fascination, parting hairs strand by strand, the way a curious child goes exploring.” I am wanting to read the Vietnamese version.

Björk’s 2004 Medúlla is the art of vocalization. On “Where Is the Line,” beat-boxing combined a-cappella-singing provides an irritable orchestration to back her up. “Who Is It (Carry My Joy on the Left, Carry My Pain on the Right)” has a fascinating mix of human voice and electronic beat. She pushes the concept of vocalization further on “Ancestor.” Her voicing starts off so damn seduction, like having sex, but gets growling, like an animal. It is one of the weirdest yet wondrous pieces of music I have ever heard. “Desired Constellation” is a beautiful ballad until you hear her sings, “It’s tricky when you feel someone / has done something on your behalf / It’s slippery when your sense of justice murmurs underneath / And is asking you: How am I going to make it right?”

I have been obsessed with Greg Tate’s music criticism since the early 2000s, when I got interested in blogging about music. I can’t remember how I discovered Tate’s writing, but I had a binder full of his essays I printed out from the internet so I could read and reread them.

Tate had a distinctive style of writing and a voice of his own. He went beyond music and pushed as far as he could on the page. I pored over his Village Voice archive as well as his works at various publications, including Rolling Stone, Vibe, Spin, the Wire, and Downbeat. I devoured Flyboy in the Buttermilk again and again. I also savored Flyboy 2 and Midnight Lightning: Jimi Hendrix and the Black Experience.

Even though I didn’t know Tate personally, I was shocked and disheartened when I found out that he passed away on December 7, 2021. Since then I wanted to turn my binder into a tribute website, not only for me to read but for others to enjoy his writing.

By Greg Tate is a straightforward website with the focus on accessibility, readability, usability, and delivery. There are no ads, no trackings, and no third-party scripts. Typography is the priority. NaN Serf, designed Daria Cohen, Fadhl Haqq, Léon Hugues, Jean-Baptiste Morizot, Luke Prowse, and Florian Runge, was selected for its easy-to-read qualities and its striking display characters. NaN Serf Sans was chosen to complement its sibling and to handle complementary text. A full-width photo accompanies each essay for some visual enhancements.

This site is my unofficial tribute to the critic whose writing had inspired me. His legacy lives on. Thank you and rest in peace, Greg Tate.

Read essays written by Greg Tate.

We made it through 6,502 days. That’s a milestone. We had been through thick and thin. We had gone through hell and back. Our journey hasn’t been easy, but we’re still pushing along.

We are under tremendous pressure raising four kids. Each age presents a different set of challenges. Caring for an elderly is a daunting task. We are doing our best. Navigating through our jobs is stressful, especially during this turmoil, uncertain time. Above all, we have to deal with each other. There are moments of frustration, irritation, disappointment, shame (on me), and doubt.

What’s even in our marriage anyway? Our marriage is not always rosy. In fact, our marriage is quite messy. Nevertheless, our marriage is still worth committing to. We need to embrace both our ups and downs. Our marriage was built on a strong foundation, we need to maintain it.

For seventeen years, we traveled the road of life together. We weathered the storms together. We rose to challenges together. As long as we won’t let go, we will make it together, as we had promised: “Rồi mai đây đi trên đường đời / Đừng buông tay âm thầm tìm về cô đơn.”

Happy anniversary, my love!

Right off the opening track on Björk’s 2001 release, Vespertine, she takes us to her “Hidden Place” that is solace and sanctuary. The beat suggests somewhere out in space and yet fills with romance. “Cocoon” continues with love, “Who would have known / That a boy like him / Would have entered me lightly / Restoring my blisses?” The production is made of crackling sound from a fire pitch. On “Pagan Poetry,” the string intro works so well with the electronic white noise. Yet, the most fascinating part is when she nakedly repeats “I love him” eight times. All the way to the album closer, “Unison,” Vespertine offers a cohesive listening experience. Be patience with this album and you’ll find its quiet beauty. It’s such a romantic album without saturation.

After a brief interaction with the press, Demented Donald walked straight toward the wall. If Mike Johnson didn’t stop him, he could have hit the wall. Let us not get distracted with Biden’s cognitive abilities. Biden is no longer in charge, but Trump is and his dementia is worrisome.

Björk’s 1997 Homogenic pushes her creativity and eccentricity further out. She has such a damn fine ear for her beats. Once again, the production for her album opener, “Hunter” is eerie yet catchy. The drum pattern on “All Neon Like” is throbbing and pounding. “Alarm Call” is the only explicit track. She claims “I’m no fucking Buddhist / But this is enlightenment.” My personal favorite on here has to be “5 Years.” The production is just fucking bananas. The distorted, scratching record is out of this world. Björk was away ahead of her time. It is such a joy rediscovering her visions and innovations almost three decades later.

I love Björk’s 1995 release Post. The beat on the album opener “Army of Me” takes me back to the cyberpunk area, especially The Matrix. I just can’t resist the magnetizing club beat on “I Miss You.” Of course, jazz adds another layer of texture to the mix. My personal favorite has to be “It’s Oh So Quiet.” It’s the most idiosyncratic flavor of jazz swing I heard. Her screams are dramatic yet hysterical. This is a Björk album I have been returning to again and again from start to end.

Demented Donald pointed to the portrait of the fifth president of the United States and stuttered, “That’s Monroe from the … uh … Monroe docu… document.” His dementia has kicked in. He should be checked for his mental capacity to be a president.