A Spoonful of Sentimentality
By Ray Finlayson
A moment and platform to reflect is always welcome, but my sentiments are largely the same as previous years: there’s lots of music, most of which is great; and there’s too much music and I didn’t find enough time to listen to it all. This is the fate I have resigned myself to. I am always going to be up against it, always caught between trying to listen to everything that comes into my inbox (I really do try to listen to everything, and mostly succeed – mostly), engaging in records my colleagues here at BPM and other publications are recommending, and enjoying music from outwith the year for, you know, personal listening pleasure.
There’s little point then in doing that same lap. So instead I wanted to talk about perhaps the most significant music-related moment of the past year. Lily Allen bringing the phrase “pussy palace” into the common parlance? Iconic, but not quite. Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl Halftime Show? An obvious peak, but not that either. That iconic scene from Ryan Coogler’s unforgettable Sinners? Alas no, but damn, if the hairs on the back on my back didn’t stand up quite like that anywhere else in the year. Your faves Charli XCX and Rosalía showing that strings are the new black? I wish that was it, because oh, how I have so much to say about their releases from this year!
It’s sadder than all that: in July of this year the world said goodbye to an iconic musician and a personal musical hero of mine, Tom Lehrer. I was convinced the American satirist, mathematician, and endlessly talented pianist would live to the full century, making some pithy and delightful joke to celebrate the occasion. Unfortunately we were deprived of this as Lehrer shuffled off this mortal coil at a very commendable 97 years old.
Even though Lehrer had largely retreated from public life (he gave his last public performance in 1998 and taught his last mathematics lecture in 2001), his presence was felt long beyond this. His name would pop up every so often, be it radio stations annually celebrating his birthday as the years ticked on by, when Daniel Radcliffe recited “The Elements“, or in 2012 when he gave 2 Chainz permission to sample a song of his (“As sole copyright owner of ‘The Old Dope Peddler’, I grant you motherfuckers permission to do this. Please give my regards to Mr. Chainz, or may I call him 2?“, he hilariously responded as part of the official request). His music remains timely, is still incredibly funny, and at the very least, a dazzling display of his dexterity; his ability to emulate and parody a range of styles and genres at what always felt like the drop of a hat is truly impressive. Watch almost any live performance and you’ll see him play without a glance at his keyboard, instead enjoying the theatre of his songs, meeting his audience’s eyes with cheeky facial expressions.
And the impact he had was all the more notable considering he only had a handful of albums (two of which (1953’s Songs by Tom Lehrer and 1959’s More of Tom Lehrer) were studio albums and the others live albums – two of which were just live versions of the aforementioned studio recorded ones). It helped that he had a magnificent and wry way with words, able to make any throwaway statement a deadpan hunk of gold. The audience interactions and conversation captured on his albums and on recorded videos are just as valuable and memorable as his songs. I would be lying if I said I don’t use at least a couple of his lines a few times a week in regular conversation. Though it was a shame that he doubted the effect his music had (he recognised he would find himself singing into an applause-laden echo chamber instead of turning the heads of those he was satirising), he did hit the nail bluntly and effectively on the head when he remarked, “Political satire became obsolete when Henry Kissinger was awarded the Nobel peace prize.”
Sure, I was one of those in the echo chamber, but his music had an undeniable impact on me beyond mere entertainment. Lehrer taught me the value of a well-placed biting remark, the fun you can have with rhyming couplets, and that you can just take a completely random topic and find a way to use it to make an iconic hit (see again: “The Elements”, which I would not be surprised if many a science major used to help them memorise the periodic table). He was an entertainer through and through, and his knowing smile when performing was like a beacon, a radiant smirk that revelled in being able to make an auditorium keel over with laughter. (Side note: I always found it fascinating that he’s one of a rare few performers who humbly asked for applause and laughter from live performances to be cut down on record.)
There’s little point in going over his storied life, as the many obituaries published in the wake of his death did that thoroughly back in July. It felt worth noting though, lest Lehrer just become a blip where he should be a bang, and because as I look back on the year, I realise news of his passing was perhaps the moment where I felt the most affected. His music had – and still has – immense personal value to me; part of me felt like he would always be there, living on for a seemingly endless time because he managed to befriend and entertain Death when the grim reaper came knocking.
I wanted to shine a light on one of Lehrer’s last actions though. Back in 2022 Lehrer relinquished the copyright and performing/recording rights on all his songs, allowing his words and music to exist entirely in the public domain. It’s a noble and selfless gesture that speaks to his character. It fit with his rejection of the popularity he accrued, essentially giving his music away so no one would bother him about it again.
His music was akin to a public service though, entertaining millions across the years, a remedial mixture of an often dark hue that went down easy. Some of his references may be time specific (“George Murphy” and a chunk of other material on That Was the Year That Was) and may cause a hiccup, but a good rhyme is a good rhyme, able to tickle the most dour of dispositions. In a time when music can be snapped up at the click of a mouse, it’s a powerful move to just throw all your content into the ether so the public can have at it. Lehrer’s letting go of copyright seemed like a keen preemption of the state of the music industry in 2025, a playing field increasingly littered with music made by artificial intelligence, moral questions about subscriptions, and overdue royalties for artists. What better answer to that all by just filling the buffet table with everything you ever made and saying goodbye forever?
“It has been a nervous year,” Lehrer said back in the mid-1960s as a prelude to his track “Send The Marines”. It still rings true – more so as the years go on. Laughter then does feel like the best medicine against it all. With Lehrer in your ears, as we see out 2025, I would encourage you to take a hearty swig. His music – music that is yours to bastardise, reform, remix, sample, and repurpose at your leisure – is the medicine that makes the state of the world that little easier to swallow. To thee we sing with our glasses raised on high.
