Album Review: Ageless: 100 Years Young — Joanie Leeds & Joya

Joanie Leeds is an NYC–based singer-songwriter with a truly impressive résumé. A Grammy-winning artist, early childhood educator, and perennial award-winner, she has been releasing thoughtful, joyful music since 2000. Her latest album, Ageless: 100 Years Young, is a loving tribute to her grandmother, weaving reflections on wisdom, kindness, and the simple truths that shape a life well lived. Featuring her daughter Joya — who contributes superb vocals throughout — the album radiates an uplifting, quietly defiant optimism. It embraces a worldview in which life, though challenging at times, remains an adventure to be savoured; where lessons learned inspire future generations, and where people, like a good wine, improve with age.

The album opens with the uplifting "Don’t Worry", a jaunty, country-tinged groove that immediately sets the tone. Lovely violin lines weave throughout, adding additional warmth and grace. The song also includes bright melodies which blend seamlessly with meaningful sentiments along the way. Here, her vocals glisten and shine, gently reminding us not to worry, because of course "worry worries you". It’s a cheerful invitation to do your best and release what you can’t control. Despite its thoughtful subject matter, the song remains buoyant, framing life’s obstacles as no more than challenges that can be overcome. With the right attitude, we’re assured, "every year just gets better". 

The title track, "Ageless", brings a tender shift in mood. Joined by her daughter Joya on vocals, the artist presents a beautifully intimate exchange between mother and child. Joya’s perspective on life, time, and immortality adds emotional depth, supported by sumptuous harmonies. The lyrics explore generational viewpoints with empathy, kindness, and understanding, celebrating the idea that while we age, we grow wiser — and that age, ultimately, is just a number.

"A, You’re Adorable" charms with nimble guitar work and a jazzy 1950s flair, transforming the alphabet into a playful stream of affirmations. Once again, Joya takes the lead vocally, introducing the song with warmth and confidence. Spirited, refreshing, and utterly charming, its strength lies in its sheer simplicity. The sparse arrangement gives the vocals space to shine, while the lyrical agility required to carry the message of each letter is handled with impressive ease.

"Born to Lead" leans back into a country vibe, buoyed by rich harmonies and spirited harmonica in turn. It delivers a confidence-boosting anthem for a world often short on self-belief. The reciprocal vocal interplay propels the song forward, and its relentless rhythm evokes the energy of a barn dance. A gear-shifting middle eight, featuring a striking vocal arrangement, hits its mark perfectly. It's also worth mentioning the harmonica work which is quite superb, adding an extra layer of melodic texture to the track.

"Grateful" provides a standout moment of reflection. Here, intricate acoustic guitar, elegant strings, and poetic vocals celebrate nature and the everyday miracle of life with quiet power. Gratitude becomes transformative as the artist gives thanks for the sun that brings warmth and light, the sea whose waves bring peace, and even the air we breathe, which is "always there". The song unfolds like a gentle hymn, paying homage to the natural world. Perhaps highlighting wonders we too often take for granted. 

"Curious" brings a somewhat heightened sense of pop sensibility and joyful awe to the party. Its piano-led arrangement and vibrant harmonica radiate both hope and discovery. Here, the artist, effortlessly shifts tempo and rhythm, demonstrating her stylistic versatility while keeping the listener fully engaged. The song in particular, champions the importance of curiosity and having an active mind. In doing so, the lyrics express the childlike impulse to ask "how, when, who, where, and why". This mindset, the song suggests, leads to deeper understanding of the wider world. The arrangement is particularly striking, with elongated notes at times, giving way to more percussive moments without ever disrupting the musical flow.

"Genealogy" adopts a rhythmic, almost spoken-word approach, mapping her family history with hypnotic flow and vocal precision. Laid-back and comfortable in its own skin, the song carries a certain innocent charm. It recounts her grandmother’s efforts to trace her family roots and shows how such journeys unite people, planting hope for the future. A surprising and emotionally resonant middle eight elevates the song further, while the tone remains consistent and assured throughout.

"Sweet Tooth" succeeds in lightening the mood with humour and warmth, celebrating life’s indulgences without guilt. The artist's eclectic culinary tastes — carrots drizzled with honey, chocolate cake, even "honey cake for dinner" — are delivered at a pace that mirrors the relentless pursuit of candy. The result is warm, playful, and delightfully optimistic.

The emotional heart of the album arrives with "Bubby", which provides a tender homage to the artist's grandmother. Here, acoustic guitar and subtle strings frame a song rich with love and gratitude for the grandparents who hold families together. With lyrical dexterity and melodic precision, the song is guaranteed to lift even the darkest moods. Perfect for family singalongs and reminiscing about life’s adventures — where "Disney’s number one" — it is utterly charming.

The closing track, "The Day Takes", draws on folk traditions to reflect on growing up, shared humanity, and the choices that shape our lives. Its buoyant melody and uplifting message linger long after the final note. A beautiful interpretation of Boris Fomin’s 20th-century Russian romance classic, the song captures the journey from childhood to adulthood and the wisdom and memories acquired along the way. It closes beautifully, with the final word given to Grandma herself, who delivers her own rendition with sweetness and grace.

In just under thirty minutes, Ageless: 100 Years Young delivers a heartfelt, life-affirming journey. It is a celebration of family, curiosity, gratitude, and joy — offering a generous dose of optimism in a challenging world. Here, love, courage, friendship, and hope form the perfect soundtrack for an extraordinary life, inspiring future generations along the way. Generous in spirit and brilliantly executed, the album demonstrates how Joanie Leeds’ music continues to grow richer and more engaging with every listen.

Joanie Leeds & Joya – a celebration of life.

Single Review: The Traffic Jam — Spaghetti Confetti

Spaghetti Confetti are relative newcomers to the children’s music scene, but they have quickly hit the ground running. In a short space of time, they have already released a string of excellent singles and delivered a number of crowd-pleasing, high-energy live performances across Sydney. In 2024, they received a nomination for Best Newcomer at the Australian Children’s Music Awards — no small achievement in such a highly competitive field. A band clearly on a mission, with a very talented line-up, their music has genuine whole-family appeal, and their infectious enthusiasm will surely carry them on to bigger and better things in the future.

Their recent single, "The Traffic Jam", is quite superb. Featuring a shuffling beat, sparse yet effective guitar work, and a hypnotic trumpet line, the song lures the listener in with irresistible up-tempo charm. What follows is a clever and engaging musical introduction to road safety, delivered with both warmth and wit. The musical scansion is impressive, cramming a multitude of ideas into a richly descriptive verse that manages to inform without ever feeling didactic.

A smart feature of the song is its inclusive approach, teaching children to read traffic lights by position rather than just colour — an important consideration for those with Colour Vision Deficiency. It's a practical safety lesson delivered in a catchy and engaging way.

The track evolves almost like a freeze dance, with its stop-start arrangement encouraging children to halt completely at the red light before springing back into action when the green light appears. It’s a freeze dance in all but name, promoting movement, imagination, and pure, unfiltered delight.

The chorus, in turn, acts as a colourful instruction manual to the road rules, with traffic lights described with unexpected eloquence, because, as the song reminds us, “nothing’s more important than arriving safely.”

Spaghetti Confetti are an exciting new band who, on this form, would no doubt be great live. They have already crafted a sound that feels original and confident, although I suspect there may be a Ramones fan lurking somewhere in the band, and I have absolutely no problem with that! The musicianship is superb throughout, and I would hazard a guess that these are seasoned musicians who are on the very top of their game. They offer a refreshing blend of optimism and awareness, where learning is fun, life is celebrated, and safety is never an afterthought. Their music is upbeat, melodic, easy to dance to, and provides a wonderful platform for kids to learn, move, and express themselves. 

Spaghetti Confetti — it’s party time!

Music Awards or Groundhog Day?

One of the main reasons I initiated this blog, was to give independent musicians a helping hand in what is widely regarded as a very competitive business.  I've also always been fascinated by how complete unknowns somehow manage to break through the noise and despite overwhelming odds still manage to rise to the top. It's an old-fashioned, somewhat romantic notion, but one that still feels relevant in 2025.

Clearly, there is no single route to break into the music business. It's not like becoming a teacher or a lawyer, where you follow a defined path, put in the work and emerge at the other end as a fully qualified professional. Music doesn't work like that, and perhaps that's part of both its appeal and its cruelty.

Many artists who do succeed have great stories behind them. Chrissie Hynde spotting the Violent Femmes busking on the street and inviting them to support The Pretenders on tour is a perfect example. Those moments feel almost mythical now, yet they still shape how we imagine success happening.

One possible route to increased exposure is through songwriting competitions. On the surface, the idea makes sense. Winning a competition can provide a platform, credibility, and a chance to be heard by industry professionals. 

Given that entry fees are often modest, it can feel like a reasonable gamble. However, music isn't sport. It's subjective. One person's meat is another's poison, as the saying goes, which raises an obvious question: are songwriting competitions really operating on a level playing field, grounded in something approaching objective reality?

Lately, I've noticed that the same artists often rise to the the top year after year. You don't need to be a statistician to wonder whether this consistency reflects an untouchable level of talent, pure coincidence, or something else entirely. When the same names keep appearing, it inevitably prompts questions about how judging works in creative fields.

Some contests seem to celebrate the same creators repeatedly, often at the expense of other artists who don't appear to get much of a look in. As a songwriter myself, I find this more fascinating than frustrating. Is it simply that certain writers align perfectly with the judges' tastes? Or does it reveal something deeper about how awards shape our perception of what "good" songwriting actually is?

Awards are supposed to highlight excellence, but they also reflect the preferences and biases of those doing the selecting. When the same voices are recognised time and again, it raises broader questions about how we define success, and whether awards truly capture the diversity of creative expression.

Imagine, for example, a songwriting team winning first place in the same competition several years in a row, despite strong and varied competition. And believe me, this has certainly been happening in Australia. It could be an extraordinary testament to their skill, or it might invite a closer look at how creativity is being evaluated in the first place. 

Although I haven't entered any songwriting competitions for several years now, I still like to keep an eye on who's doing well, particularly in the songs for children category. I genuinely admire any songwriter who can consistently impress a panel of judges. But as someone who cares deeply about the craft, I can't help wondering what repeated wins really says about judging criteria, musical taste, and so called expertise.

Frank Zappa once made an interesting point about in relation to this. He suggested that much of the great music of the 1960s didn't emerge because young executives had their fingers perfectly on the pulse. Often it was older men, raised on Sinatra and Bing Crosby, who freely admitted they didn't understand the music — but released and promoted it to see what would happen.

Those "old guys with big cigars" didn't understand The Doors, the Velvet Underground, or early Pink Floyd. But they took the risk, and decided to "put it out anyway." Today, it sometimes feels as though there are too many experts, too much calculation, and too little willingness to embrace the unfamiliar. Perhaps the music industry; competitions included, has become overly cautious, overly safe, and overly conservative.

Ultimately, competitions are just one lens through which we view music. They can motivate, inspire, and open doors. At the same time, they can also provoke questions about how creativity is measured; and perhaps those questions are just as valuable as the awards themselves.