For The New York Review of Books, Philip Clark considers the work of Steely Dan, a band whose early music and sound relied heavily on studio wizardry for their recordings. The band were so particular about their artistic vision that they’d splice prerecorded, improvised jazz solos into their songs, elements that could never be duplicated live to their exacting satisfaction. “Steely Dan’s music provoked undeniable pleasure, but its methods were synthetic and clinical, and their decision to name themselves after the high-tech dildo from William S. Burroughs’s 1959 novel Naked Lunch felt especially apt,” writes Clark.
In albums like *Can’t Buy a Thrill *(1972), *Pretzel Logic *(1974), and Aja (1977), they cultivated a sleek, polished pop that was marinated in jazz, blues, L…
For The New York Review of Books, Philip Clark considers the work of Steely Dan, a band whose early music and sound relied heavily on studio wizardry for their recordings. The band were so particular about their artistic vision that they’d splice prerecorded, improvised jazz solos into their songs, elements that could never be duplicated live to their exacting satisfaction. “Steely Dan’s music provoked undeniable pleasure, but its methods were synthetic and clinical, and their decision to name themselves after the high-tech dildo from William S. Burroughs’s 1959 novel Naked Lunch felt especially apt,” writes Clark.
In albums like *Can’t Buy a Thrill *(1972), *Pretzel Logic *(1974), and Aja (1977), they cultivated a sleek, polished pop that was marinated in jazz, blues, Latin, and rock and roll. Their songs had both a melodic, high-fidelity sheen—a gift to radio airplay—and a level of compositional integrity and instrumental elan that left aficionados agog. Lyrically, they developed a fixation—naysayers considered it an affectation—with pairing waspish observations about social outsiders, the venality of pop culture, and men riding out their midlife crises with relentlessly feel-good music, the harmonies never smudging in sympathy with the deranged words. At a time when potent presences like David Bowie, Joni Mitchell, Al Green, and Diana Ross—as well as prog-rock groups like Kansas and Emerson, Lake & Palmer—were all remaking pop, Steely Dan’s tics and obsessions positioned them distinctively: the subjects of their songs could be relatable, but their fanatical studio perfectionism seemed like it was governed by a secret formula. The deeper you listened, the harder it was to pin down.
More picks from New York Review of Books
Days and Nights in Gaza
Muhammad al-Zaqzouq (trans. by Katharine Halls) | The New York Review of Books | February 9, 2025 | 5,132 words
“Watching TV that first day, we awaited the roar of planes and the rumble of explosions. We didn’t have to wait long.”
‘A Moment of Pleasant Indecision’
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“A new exhibition focuses on the labor behind the lobsters, caviar, and martinis that helped define early-twentieth-century travel.”
Where the Dogs Run
Bathsheba Demuth | New York Review of Books | August 15, 2025 | 4,631 words
“Along the Yukon River, declining salmon populations threaten the future of the region’s sled dogs—and the communities that rely on them.”