Spotlight On Podcast: Looking Back at 2021's Transformative Year

In 2021, year two of Spotlight On, we, like most of our listeners and guests, found ways forward while still grappling with the new world born of the pandemic. It was also the year I realized I wanted to do this thing for as long as possible, meaning host this show and share these conversations.

Across our episodes that year, our guests shared stories of reinvention and resilience. Our conversations expanded beyond music to explore how communities adapt and how art and ideas persist through uncertainty.

I hope my reflections cause you to revisit your favorite 2021 episodes or experience others for the first time. There’s a lot of good stuff in there.

James Felice of Felice Brothers

Speaking from his home in Kingston, New York, James Felice described watching his beloved Hudson Valley transform during the pandemic as city dwellers sought refuge upstate. The influx reshaped local culture in complex ways: New energy and amenities arrived alongside rising costs that threatened to displace longtime residents. "It feels almost cataclysmic for the area," he observed, his perspective shaped by deep roots in the region.

The Felice Brothers turned pandemic isolation into creative fuel, recording in a 19th-century church on brother Ian's property. They worked as a duo before gathering the full band for four intense COVID-safe sessions. Their collaborative songwriting process revealed the rare chemistry between siblings who've found the sweet spot between artistic tension and mutual trust. Felice's philosophical side emerged in discussing songs like "Silverfish," which explores humanity's impact on the natural world through both humor and ecological insight. James and I laughed A LOT, and I smile when I remember recording this episode. I cannot help but think the fun we had making it contributes to the episode's ongoing popularity.

Gerald Casale of DEVO

I spoke with DEVO co-founder Gerald Casale when the band was being considered for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (induction to which still has not happened). His sardonic wit and sharp cultural commentary were offset by many moments of sincerity about the power of music and his care for DEVO's legacy.

Beyond the band's reputation for technological innovation, Casale revealed how their artistic vision grew from Akron, Ohio's blue-collar, anti-intellectual environment. "When you grow up there you get humbled daily," he explained. "You were constantly being degraded, made fun of, threatened. So you kind of are beaten down, people don't have high self-esteem ... And so, they either give in or become defeated, or they say no, I'm going to rebuild, I'm going to believe in myself and I'm going to stick to it."

That resistance forged DEVO's comprehensive artistic vision. The band conceived themselves as musicians and a multimedia art project that should have spawned films, theatrical productions, and even consumer products. Their early adoption of music video led them to MTV-fueled stardom. The technological hurdles that stymied their multimedia ambitions in the 1970s have largely vanished, making their early vision seem remarkably current.

Casale's story about playing DEVO's deconstructed version of "Satisfaction" for Mick Jagger is alone worth the price of admission. When Jagger first heard their take on his signature song, he "puts down his wine on the floor and he gets up, and he starts dancing around like Mick Jagger ... He kind of spins a bit and looks back at us and goes, 'I like it.'" Yet that approval didn't shield them from industry resistance—Casale recalled the vitriol Rolling Stone founder Jann Wenner "had towards DEVO from the beginning, just because we'd sullied his temple of rock and roll."

Jack Casady of Jefferson Airplane and Hot Tuna

My talk with Jack Casady may have dropped on the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame bassist's 77th birthday, but he gave me the gifts, sharing tales and wisdom from across decades of loving and living music. Jack's stories of learning blues in Washington DC clubs, studying masters like Reverend Gary Davis, then carrying those influences to San Francisco's psychedelic scene were all soaked in his ongoing enthusiasm for playing and listening. I spoke with his Airplane and Tuna partner in crime, Jorma Kaukonen, in 2020, leaving Grace Slick as the remaining surviving member of the Airplane I have yet (and need!) to have on.

Jim Rondinelli and JJ Johnston

Through their work at Immersion Networks, Jim Rondinelli and JJ Johnston opened ears to the future of audio. Johnston helped invent the MP3 format but now focuses on creating more immersive listening experiences rather than just efficient compression.

Nick Polizzi

Documentary filmmaker Nick Polizzi detailed his journey from materialist skeptic to full-throated advocate while documenting traditional healing practices. His evolution mirrors broader cultural shifts toward integrating ancient wisdom with modern knowledge. The conversation explored how crises often drive people to seek a deeper understanding of well-being.

Gabrielle Basha of the Joseph Campbell Foundation

From her unique position with his foundation, Gabrielle Basha offered a fresh perspective on Joseph Campbell’s impact. While Campbell's "hero's journey" framework has become a touchstone for storytellers, Basha illuminated how his ideas extend far beyond narrative structure. She described Campbell's belief that personal mythology matters as much as ancient stories—that everyone becomes the hero of their journey.

The foundation's work proves especially relevant in challenging times. As Basha explained, Campbell's insights help people understand their struggles within larger patterns of human experience. His famous directive to "follow your bliss" wasn't about unfiltered joy. As he later quipped, he "should have said follow your blisters" better to capture the inherent challenges of any meaningful path.

Our conversation covered Campbell's influence across multiple territories. From George Lucas crediting The Hero with a Thousand Faces as inspiration for Star Wars to the Grateful Dead’s Mickey Hart exploring musical mythology, Campbell’s ideas continue to find new expressions. Basha noted how even tech industry leaders seek meaning through mythological frameworks, suggesting modern innovators still grapple with timeless human questions—if not a lot of self-mythologizing.

The foundation itself exemplifies Campbell's vision of mythology as a living force. Its growing archive of lectures and writings, global membership, and contemporary programming demonstrates how mythological perspectives illuminate current challenges. As Basha put it, channeling Campbell's view, "dreams are private myths and myths are public dreams”—a reminder that personal and collective meaning-making remain inseparable.

Tyler Grant

Tyler Grant demonstrated the vitality of traditional music in modern contexts. The National Flatpicking Champion discussed his guitar style's roots in bluegrass while exploring more contemporary and experimental territories.

Tyler spoke with me from his truck at a boathouse in Jensen, Utah, where he worked his other job, as a river rafting guide. Even on the water, music remains central—he incorporates performances into river trips, discovering how songs take on new meaning in nature's amphitheater.

Nettie Baker on Ginger Baker

Nettie Baker spoke with disarming frankness about growing up as the daughter of Cream's legendary (and notorious) drummer, Ginger Baker. Her memoir, Tales of a Rock Star’s Daughter, captures the chaos and complexity of that experience through a lens of gallows humor that makes even harrowing memories accessible. “Imagine living it all your life,” she said flatly in response to my comment on the uncomfortable territory her book covers.

The conversation revealed how fame's impact ripples through families in obvious and subtle ways. Baker described parents who seemed oblivious to how their actions affected their children. Her father expressed surprise when she described their difficult childhood, and her mother once remarked about holding them at gunpoint, "There's only a one in 12 chance of hitting someone with that gun." These memories, delivered with dark wit, illustrate how humor becomes a survival tool.

Now managing her father's legacy alongside her siblings, Baker faces new challenges. While Ginger Baker's iconic status draws constant interest, the financial reality proves complex. "It's very depressing for us children," she explained, noting the contrast between her father's influence and the family's situation. "To see that iconic status that he has, and you have nothing, it is galling." Yet she maintains her sense of humor and commitment to accurately preserving his musical contributions. "I want it to be correct," she said of the legacy work, noting that even Ginger acknowledged before his death, "Well, Nettie knows everything."

Her story offers an unvarnished look at rock mythology from the inside, revealing the human cost of artistic genius while finding grace in honesty and resilience in humor. And no, I cannot imagine living it.

Jeremy Sirota, CEO of Merlin

Jeremy Sirota shared an insider's view of how independent music thrives in the digital age through Merlin's model of collective action. Known informally as "the virtual fourth major," Merlin strikes premium deals with digital music services like Spotify, TikTok, and Apple Music on behalf of tens of thousands of independent labels. But Sirota emphasized that Merlin's role extends beyond licensing—it serves as a bridge between independents and the platforms where music lives now.

His career path to leading Merlin reflected the evolving music business itself. After starting as a technology lawyer, he moved through Warner Music Group (where we worked together) and Facebook's music team before taking the helm at Merlin. This background in music, tech, and law shapes his approach to serving Merlin's diverse membership, which includes labels, distributors, and other rights holders from virtually every country globally.

The organization's structure sets it apart—its members own it, and Merlin operates like a non-profit, with the same membership agreement and admin fee applying to everyone, regardless of size. "Everything we do is through oversight from our members and on behalf of our members," Sirota explained. "All of the revenue that we drive comes from our members. So we are focused on our members and how we can drive value to them because if we're not doing that, they're going to look elsewhere."

This democratic approach has helped Merlin become a sought-after partner for new platforms. They were the first sound recording licensor to strike a deal with Snap, demonstrating how consolidated independent power can create opportunities rather than barriers. The model proves especially valuable for members in emerging markets like Africa, the Middle East, and Southeast Asia, who gain access to global digital services while maintaining their independence.

Dave McMurray

Dave McMurray approached the Grateful Dead songbook from a unique angle, filtering the material through his roots in Detroit's distinctive jazz scene. Though not originally versed in the Dead's music, he discovered their songs' durability through producer Don Was, who enlisted him to play a festival set featuring Bob Weir. McMurray found himself intrigued by how artists like Ornette Coleman and David Murray had interpreted the Dead's material—a far cry from typical rock saxophone players in the Clarence Clemons mold (though Clemons also sat in with both the Dead and Jerry Garcia Band).

The Detroit jazz tradition shaped his interpretations in specific ways. McMurray explained how Motor City musicians developed a particular way of playing "behind the beat, “ distinguishing them from the more on-top approach common in New York. This regional characteristic, which he traces to the influence of Southern blues in the auto industry town, gives his Dead interpretations a distinctive swing and presence.

His arrangements began to take shape during the pandemic isolation. He first worked in the relative safety of a trio format before expanding the instrumentation. The results showcase the value of approaching familiar material from fresh angles. Dave also gave me insight into a corner of the jazz world I previously knew little about.

These conversations took place as initial pandemic shock gave way to re imagining possibilities. Our guests were just emerging from survival mode into a very uncertain world of COVID "surges" and variants, on-and-off-again lockdowns and restrictions, and new rules for public behavior.

These conversations are some of the few things from that time I enjoy revisiting, to be honest. Spotlight On was an important source of connection for me, providing me not only with a constructive project to work on, but an opportunity to get out of my head while I focused on and shared the stories of my guests. The show's role in my life has evolved over the years, but the ability to share even an hour of connection with another human being is a beautiful thing.