After The Noise
Everything Is Equal
Friday 13 February 2026
Ringo Starr – You Won’t Come By (2025)
I was genuinely excited when the legend that is Ringo released a country album in 2025. Especially as it came out during my much-mentioned country music phase. The record ended up being one of my favourites of the year. Came out right at the start, slipped in quietly, and just stayed there. No fuss, no hype, just a good, honest record.
He’d already dipped back into country with Beaucoup of Blues in 1970, which I properly got into a few years ago. And here he is, all these decades later, doing it again. Another full-on country album, and it works from start to finish.
It’s simple, like a lot of Ringo’s stuff. No grand gestures, no big artistic statements. Just songs, played straight. And sometimes that’s exactly what you need. People are very quick to dismiss country music, but when it’s done right, it’s fantastic.
There’s something reassuring about the fact he’s still here, still making records, still sounding like himself. No pretence. No reinvention. Just Ringo, doing Ringo.
My mood’s been lifting a bit each day, even after getting wound up last night. The walking challenge is harder than I thought, though. Legs are feeling it. Still, last day of work today. Thank God for that. A week off coming up, even if the weather’s going to be miserable. At least there’s time to walk, listen, and let the head settle.
The Who – I Don’t Want To Get Wise (2019)
It is slightly surreal when you think about it. A band that once smashed guitars, detonated drum kits, and soundtracked teenage rebellion are now in their eighties, still walking onstage and doing the job. The voice isn’t what it was, the jumps are lower, the chaos is more carefully scheduled, but the spirit’s still there in flashes.
They’ve become more of a touring institution now, a bit like The Rolling Stones. The records are almost secondary. It’s about getting out there, playing the classics, and reminding everyone that these songs have outlived several generations of trends, fashions, and supposed “next big things.”
And when those familiar openings hits, whether it’s the synth roar of Baba O’Riley or the power chords of Won’t Get Fooled Again, it still works. Muscle memory, cultural memory, whatever you want to call it. Decades later, the songs still land.
And they still had it in 2019, even if Roger Daltrey’s voice sounds a little cracked.
There’s something oddly comforting about bands like that. They just keep going. No grand philosophy, no reinvention every five minutes. Just plug in, turn it up, and carry on. A decent life strategy, really. Probably healthier than most modern career paths, including the noble profession of shouting at traffic while listening to 50-year-old records.
John Phillip Sousa – The Washington Post (2026)
The Washington Post is one of those tunes everybody seems to know, even if they’ve no idea where from. It was written by John Philip Sousa in 1889, back when brass bands and military marches ruled the day, and it was first recorded as early as 1890 by the United States Marine Band on a wax cylinder.
The version on this album is almost certainly a much later band recording, quietly repackaged under Sousa’s name, which is how a lot of this old march music turns up on streaming services. Different band, different decade, same rousing tune that’s been marching along for well over a century.
Sousa was a pioneer in his day, the king of the military march. This was his territory. Brass, rhythm, discipline, and a tune that sticks in your head whether you asked for it or not.
It’s incredibly rousing. You can almost picture the uniforms, the polished boots, the banners, everything moving in perfect step. Music designed to get people upright and marching, not slumped in a car seat staring at traffic lights.
No idea when this particular recording was made, but the spirit of it feels timeless. Bright, bold, and full of purpose. Terrific stuff. Makes you feel like you should be doing something important, even if that “important thing” is just trying to find a parking space without losing the will to live.
I like the idea of hunting down the 1890 recording, but it would be a listen to once only experience I feel given the primitive recording equipment of the time.
Cameo – You Make Me Work (1988)
You Make Me Work by Cameo. Or, as it first sounds, Word Up 2.
When it came on, that was my immediate thought. Same groove, same slick funk-pop feel, same Larry Blackmon attitude. You can almost hear them thinking, “Right, we’ll just bottle that magic again.”
But by 1988 the pop kids had already moved on. Trends shift, tastes change, and suddenly the formula that worked a couple of years earlier doesn’t land the same way. The charts said no, thanks very much.
Doesn’t stop it being a fine song, though. Tight, funky, and very much in that Cameo pocket. Larry Blackmon doing his thing, codpiece and all. Some images from pop history really refuse to fade, whether you asked for them or not.
Strange it wasn’t a bigger hit at the time, but music fans are a fickle bunch. One minute you’re the sound of the moment, the next you’re yesterday’s groove.
Still, it’s a great one to have on when you’ve got your feet on the desk, an empty office, and absolutely no intention of rushing into anything resembling productivity. Music first, responsibility later. A perfectly respectable work ethic when the office is quiet.
Bessie Smith – Baby, Won’t You Please Come Home? (1923)
Bessie Smith, someone I knew absolutely nothing about until she started popping up on this playlist. No idea where the recommendation even came from. One of those quiet little algorithm miracles, or maybe just a lucky accident.
And I’m glad she’s there. I really enjoy her stuff.
It’s very old, obviously. You can hear the age in the recording. Just a voice and a piano, warm and slightly crackly, like it’s travelled a long way to get to your speakers. Meanwhile I’ve got a cloud of exhaust fumes drifting into the car from some poor soul’s motor about to conk out in front of me. The modern world, in all its fragrant glory, clashing nicely with a recording from nearly a century ago.
But the song itself is just lovely. Mellow, jazzy, unhurried. Nothing fancy, nothing overworked. Just emotion and melody.
It’s strange, discovering “new” music that’s actually from a very long time ago. But that’s one of the pleasures of this playlist. It reminds you how much music there is out there. Whole worlds you’ve never even brushed against.
I still drift back to the bands I know, of course. Old habits and all that. But the list keeps evolving, and every now and then someone like Bessie Smith wanders in, completely unexpected, and brightens the whole thing up.
END OF LISTENING LOG
The Listening Log 