In this special edition of Tape Spaghetti, Scott and Blake wrap up  and run down their favorite albums of 2025…. and, as usual, a whooole buncha other stuff. From revelations about their own streaming habits, strong opinions on production choices and pedal chains, a victory lap on year one of Tape Spaghetti, and oh yeah, spotlights on the guys’ picks for the best albums of the year, this one is a journey of deep-dives and nostalgia bombs that touches on Euro-country, lush indie rock, and a surprise posthumous appearance from Waylon Jennings. Whether you’re into metal, pop, country, indie, or “whatever the heck this is,” don’t miss this one.

What if we told you that the biggest electronic album of all time started as a complete flop? In this episode of Tape Spaghetti, Scott and Blake tell the unbelievable story of how Moby’s Play went from career-killing failure to a global phenomenon thanks to the most shamelessly brilliant licensing plan ever executed. After alienating his fans with a hardcore punk passion project and getting dropped by his U.S. label, Moby was broke, discouraged, and convinced his next record would be his last. When Play arrived to almost no sales he figured he'd been right... until his team hatched a wild idea: say yes to EVERY licensing request. Coffee commercials? Yes. Car ads? Hell yeah. Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Where do we sign? Soon every track—every *single* track—from the album appeared somewhere, creating a slow-burn cultural takeover and eventually pushing Play to 12 million sales worldwide. It’s a one of a kind tale of artistic desperation, shrewd copyright strategy, and the moment Moby became the accidental king of commercial syncs.

Remember the feeling of being a kid and encountering an album cover that you just *knew* you weren’t supposed to be looking at? On this week’s Tape Spaghetti we’re turning that feeling up to 12 as Scott and Blake dive into the flat-out shocking world of controversial album art. From covers that got bands banned in department stores, to designs that sparked lawsuits, protests, and panicked parents, the guys explore infamous cases of musicians pushing the visual envelope (literally). Why have certain covers triggered outrage while others slipped under the radar? How do taboos shift from decade to decade? And why do artists take the risk of marketing shock value? Scott and Blake reflect on their own experiences discovering “forbidden” records and debate whether today’s digital music world has lost something by leaving provocative album art behind. This one’s not for the squeamish or easily icked…. 

Is elevator music... evil? In this week’s Tape Spaghetti, Scott and Blake go on a tour through the highly unlikely, slightly dystopian history of Muzak – the music nobody loves, but everyone hears. Born from military experimentation, electrical engineering breakthroughs, and a dream to make Americans more productive through calibrated background sound, Muzak might sound aimless, but it was designed to manipulate and control. Workers alternately found it calming or patronizing. Counterculture movements mocked it. Ted Nugent tried to destroy it. Yet, Muzak survived long enough to infiltrate elevators, the White House, NASA missions, and grocery stores everywhere. The guys trace its legacy all the way to modern lo-fi playlists and “music for airports,” proving blandness has a surprisingly colorful past.

What happens when one of the biggest bands in the world takes on its industry’s Death Star? In 1994, Pearl Jam was willing to find out. On this week’s Tape Spaghetti, Scott & Blake revisit the grunge-era showdown that pitted a group of scrappy rock idealists against Ticketmaster, the ultimate corporate monolith. Having locked down every major venue in America, Ticketmaster strangled fans with specious “service charges” and squeezed bands with exclusivity contracts. At the height of their popularity, Pearl Jam demanded fairer prices and more transparency. They even attempted to bypass Ticketmaster altogether by playing public spaces – but ultimately they had to put up with shady politics, convoluted permitting, and the reality that they were losing millions in revenue. How did Ticketmaster go from a scrappy Arizona startup to a money-printing monopoly? In a world where we *still* pay $45 in convenience fees, this one hits home.

We all know we have to tune our guitars… but we don’t usually think about *why* we tune the way we do. In this weeks’ Tape Spaghetti, Scott and Blake do just that, in a discussion fit for a tin-foil hat. For instance, what if we told you that tuning your guitar was actually part of a Nazi mind-control plot? Or that certain frequencies align us with the universe and balance our “water memory?” Or what if we told you…. that’s all nonsense, and that the real story might be even MORE interesting than any conspiracy theory. From 19th-century pitch wars and Verdi’s preferred frequencies to how A440 became the global norm, the guys trace how a simple standard turned into a cosmic conspiracy. Come for the mind control jokes, stay for the surprisingly nerdy and super relevant music history lesson.

This week on Tape Spaghetti, Scott and Blake head to Malaysia for perhaps the darkest story in Southeast Asian pop history: the twisted tale of Mona Fandey. Once an aspiring starlet, Fandey’s talent didn’t take her very far – but her transformation into a self-proclaimed shaman gave her access to some of the most powerful figures in Malaysian politics. Her promise to deliver power and success through magic led to a windfall of cash, notoriety, and ultimately, a gruesome murder that shocked the entire country. Through it all, Mona smiled for the cameras and claimed she would never die… even as she was being led to the gallows. This one’s got everything: music, mysticism, money, and murder, all wrapped up in a story that’s too strange to be fiction. 

The name’s Spaghetti. Tape Spaghetti. This week, Scott and Blake go undercover into the glamorous, brassy, and occasionally super weird world of James Bond music. After Monty Norman’s jazzy/surfy 1962 theme became the sonic blueprint for every espionage movie ever, each successive Bond theme played a pivotal role in shaping one of the world’s biggest franchises. Decade over decade, a chronological hotlist of pop stars participated – and some, including Johnny Cash and Alice Cooper, just missed the cut. Tune in to find out how Shirley Bassey nearly blacked out belting “Goldfinger,” why “Live and Let Die” might be ten songs stitched into one, and how Adele’s “Skyfall” returned the canon to epic prestige. Best listened to in an Aston Martin while wearing a tux.

There is gangsta rap, there are murder ballads, and then... There is Chalino Sánchez. The real life outlaw who turned the chaos of the Mexican cartel into song. In this episode of Tape Spaghetti, Blake and Scott unravel the brief, violent life of the Godfather of Narcocorridos. After committing a bloody act of vengeance at the age of fifteen, Chalino Sánchez found his calling while serving time, taking tales of his and his fellow inmates’ criminal hustles and spinning them into song. Sánchez’s ballads became the soundtrack of cartel culture and solidified him as an underground icon – but with fame came extreme danger. After surviving one onstage attempt on his life, Sánchez was handed a mysterious note at his next concert – the last time he was seen alive. Is Chalino Sánchez the realest outlaw artist of all time? Here’s how Mexico’s most dangerous troubadour created a genre and claimed immortality.

When Pete Seeger sang the lyric “This Land Is My Land”—then dared to prove it. In this episode of Tape Spaghetti, Scott and Blake dig into folk icon Pete Seeger’s fiery 1955 showdown with the House Committee on Un-American Activities. At the height of the Red Scare, Seeger was hauled before Congress and grilled about his political beliefs, the people he sang for, and the songs he played. But Seeger refused to play along. Instead of hiding behind the Fifth Amendment, he cited the First, telling congress: “I’ve got a right to sing for anybody.” Sounds innocent enough, but Congress wasn’t impressed. Seeger was convicted of contempt, sentenced to prison, and blacklisted from TV and radio. While his conviction was eventually overturned, the incident defined Seeger’s career and cemented his legend, with songs like “Turn! Turn! Turn!” and “We Shall Overcome” becoming the soundtrack to a social movement that endured long after the sad era of McCarthyism. Tune in as Scott and Blake unpack this loaded folktale and celebrate Seeger’s big banjo energy.

What does your favorite song look like? In this episode of Tape Spaghetti, Scott and Blake tumble down the rabbit hole where hearing and vision meet. From unforgettable album art to the kaleidoscopic effects of chromesthesia to the full sensory spectrum of synesthesia, sometimes you can experience music with your entire brain…. in good ways and weird. The guys share stories of some of their most visually evocative musical experiences and highlight artists running the gamut from Aphex Twin to Richard Wagner whose iconic sounds simply can’t be separated from iconic (and eerie) imagery. What do Werther’s Originals, Yankee Candles, and Ride of the Valkyries have in common? Close your eyes and tune in to find out how to tap into your favorite music as a feast for the senses.

What do you do when you’re the biggest pop star alive and your record label can’t keep up? If you’re Prince, you declare war on your own name. In this episode of Tape Spaghetti, Scott and Blake trace how the hitmaker behind Purple Rain became an unpronounceable symbol in 1993. After signing a massive $100 million deal with Warner Bros. Records, Prince chafed at their glacially slow release schedule. Sitting on a mountain of unreleased music, he decided to engage in a legendary act of defiance. He abandoned the name Prince for an unpronounceable glyph—the Love Symbol #2—and wrote “slave” on his cheek at public appearances. The media, baffled, dubbed him “The Artist Formerly Known as Prince.” Warner had to send out floppy disks so journalists could even type the symbol. Meanwhile, Prince by carpet-bombed them with albums until he fulfilled his deal, then released Emancipation on his own label. By 2000, he’d reclaimed his name and his masters. Did Prince carve his name in music history by deleting it altogether? This is one of pop’s wildest branding stunts—and one of its boldest victories.

What do you get when you combine when rock ’n’ roll, destiny, and total dysfunction? The Shaggs. In this episode of Tape Spaghetti, Scott & Blake share the bizarre tale of three reluctant sisters from New Hampshire who unwittingly became cult idols of the pop scene. Driven by a domineering father determined to fulfill a prophecy that his daughters would become famous, the Wiggins sisters had no training, no exposure to pop music, and no particular desire to be in a band to begin with. Their seminal work, Philosophy of the World, is an album defined by erratic rhythms, jangly guitar nonsense, and clashing vocals that somehow amounts to something…totally endearing. Frank Zappa praised it, Kurt Cobain loved it, and it now stands as a cornerstone of "Outsider Music" that challenges our very conception of pop. Tune in to untangle the strange, sad, and ultimately joyful story of The Shaggs.

Picture this: mid-70s Los Angeles, Sunset Strip glowing, Rainbow Bar & Grill buzzing. Upstairs, hidden from the paparazzi, Alice Cooper presides over a drinking club comprised of the world’s biggest rock stars. Members included Keith Moon, Ringo Starr, Harry Nilsson, Mickey Dolenz, and regular guests like John Lennon, and Iggy Pop. Their creed? Drink until someone literally drops. From Lennon’s meltdown at the Troubadour to Keith Moon’s nightly costume reveals, the antics were as unhinged as the alcohol was endless. Yet beneath the fun lurked the darker truth of rock’s excesses: careers derailed, friendships tested, and lives cut short. Alice Cooper barely escaped by embracing sobriety, while others weren’t so lucky. Listen in as Scott and Blake unravel the myths, mayhem, and aftermath of a group that embodied both the heights and hangovers of the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle.

What does it take to break free from your father’s shadow? For Hank Williams Jr., it was just about every bone in his body. In this episode of Tape Spaghetti, Scott and Blake trace Hank Jr.’s journey from teen imitator of his iconic dad to one of country’s fiercest originals. Sparked by a mighty tumble off the Smoky Mountains that nearly killed him, Hank Jr. relearned how to walk, talk, and make music — and, miraculously, was all the better for it. With “Family Tradition” and “Whiskey Bent and Hellbound,” he embraced southern rock swagger, celebrated his vices, and created music that was unapologetically his own. Along the way, he reshaped country music itself, proving that second-generation stars could blaze trails, not just imitate them. Tune in and hear the story of how one brutal fall gave rise to a legend.

What do Bob Marley, U2, Grace Jones, and James Bond have in common? The name’s Blackwell — Chris Blackwell. In this episode of Tape Spaghetti, Scott and Blake dive into the unexpected story of the Island Records founder who reshaped global music. Raised among Jamaica’s colonial elites, Blackwell was rescued from a near-death experience by Rastafarian fishermen who gave him a new lease on life and a newfound devotion to reggae. From there, Blackwell founded Island Records and launched Jamaican music into the mainstream. And that wasn’t all—he gave Nick Drake freedom to fail, signed Roxy Music for their style alone, and gambled on a scrappy Irish band named U2. Was Blackwell a visionary who elevated voices from the margins, or a clever colonizer who repackaged them?

Does 15 years plus $14 million equal perfection? Axl Rose was willing to ditch his Gun N' Roses bandmates to find out. On this week’s Tape Spaghetti, Blake & Scott unravel the unwieldy tale of Chinese Democracy, the album born of Axl’s unrelenting vision… but at what cost?? With endless lineup changes and a vicious cycle of revisions, this Slash/Izzy/Duff-less GNR record looms large as a passion project pit against some extremely lofty expectations. Did Axl pull it off? Was Chinese Democracy doomed by its own hype, or is it somehow a massively overlooked gem of ambition? Tune in for a cautionary tale about chasing perfection with a bucket on your head. (And a chicken coop in your studio?)

You’ve got your entire life to write your debut… and 6 months to top it! In this episode of Tape Spaghetti, Blake and Scott explore the dreaded sophomore slump, breaking down why second records are so difficult to perfect and why our perceptions of them often change with the added context of time. Whether it’s a Hootie, a Beastie, Alanis, or U2  this one’s a celebration of overreach, awkward pivots, and the impossible expectations we put on artists. Are these sequels genuine disappointments, or is this the way we punish artists who dare to evolve?

Frank Ocean pulled off one of the greatest artistic jailbreaks in modern music—and did it in style. In this episode of Tape Spaghetti, Blake and Scott explore how Ocean dropped the hauntingly beautiful visual album Endless to fulfill his contract with Def Jam… only to self-release Blonde the very next day, fully independent and with total creative control. Ocean not only beat the system, he reshaped how the system works, cementing his status as one of hip-hop’s modern masters and brilliant escape artists. Whether you’re a Frank fan or just curious about the most baller bait-and-switch in recent music history, this one’s worth the listen.

Post-hardcore… or purely paranormal? In this episode of Tape Spaghetti, Blake and Scott are joined by Guitar Nerds host and certified Mars Volta superfan Joe Branton to dive into the tangled sonic séance of an album known as The Bedlam in Goliath. At the center of the chaos is The Soothsayer, a Ouija board that channeled the beyond, inspired the album’s otherworldly themes, and may have triggered a series of bizarre, destructive events. Joe helps unravel the ghostly chaos from studio meltdowns and mysteriously vanishing tracks, to injuries and nervous breakdowns that nearly tore the band apart. Was this record haunted, genius, or both?