As I type this, it is December 8, 2020, the fortieth anniversary of John Lennon's murder. I was then a newly-minted barband guitarist, fifteen years old and thinking how the world —via the election of Ronald Reagan —and music had just suffered the worst season that could ever be.

2020 has been an ongoing parade of American horrors. No matter what city you're in, the town is paused. I live in Hollywood, three blocks from the former site of Amoeba Music, the biggest independent record store in the Flat 48. It closed this year, as did the very excellent Atomic Records, in nearby Burbank. Both are slated for reopening, but no hard dates have been offered up. The tiny, packed to the hilt Boyle Heights shop Sonidos Del Valle has become where the record nerds congregate, masked, as their wives and girlfriends look on alternately bored and bemused.

Aside from Sonidos, my favorite place to browse is now Bandcamp. Unfortunately, so much of what is available on this rightfully beloved site is strictly download, and like most jazz fans of my generation, I'm a hardcopy person. One label who sells vinyl and cassettes (but not compact discs) is Death Is Not The End, who specialize in international roots music. Their rebetika (Depression Era Greek street music) comp The Sun Is Setting On This World is maybe my favorite thing this year, otherworldly, soulful vocal music that sounds like for all the world like interplanetary delta blues. In addition, DINTE has a (thus far) three volume series of Jamaican doo wop called If I Had A Pair Of Wings that shines a light on the pre-ska music scene, with compelling early performances by future stars like