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Funeral - Arcade Fire | 50 Albums in 50 Years | From Pitchfork Hype to Live Show Magic: My Funeral Experience

2025-06-30T14:33:00.000-07:00

“Somethin' filled up. My heart with nothin'. Someone told me not to cry. Now that I'm older. My heart's colder. And I can see that it's a lie. Children, wake up. Hold your mistake up. Before they turn the summer into dust.”

In 2004, indie music was starting to blow up, and along with the music, so did one of the biggest supporters of indie music: the music site Pitchfork. OGs will remember that you had to go to pitchforkmedia.com and not just pitchfork.com (the latter was a website that had to do with farming equipment until Pitchfork bought the domain sometime around 2008). And this created sort of a spiraling effect of Pitchfork's influence growing over time. In 2004, it was just starting to have that influence, and when you think about bands that Pitchfork essentially built, Arcade Fire is probably the first band to come to mind.

Pitchfork broke Arcade Fire, who ended up becoming one of the biggest millennial indie acts in the U.S. and winning a Grammy. Their review of Funeral—a 9.7—arguably made the band. You can certainly argue that in a world where Pitchfork doesn't exist, Arcade Fire still blows up, but you can't argue with the influence that Pitchfork had on the band's critical and commercial success. And to be clear, as the Pitchfork review says, "Their search for salvation in the midst of real chaos is ours; their eventual catharsis is part of our continual enlightenment." That sort of vibe is going to grab me (and many others) viscerally, immediately, and forever.

To say Arcade Fire is a band is a bit of an understatement. Wikipedia lists 14 current and previous members, and I am pretty sure that at some point, all 14 members played in the band in live shows together. At one time, they had a violinist (Sarah Neufeld) as a full-time member of the band. And she stood at the front of the stage and shouted along to the songs with the crowd and no mic when she wasn't playing. This made the band sound super full; it felt like a rock orchestra because it was a rock orchestra. The sheer size and intensity of their live setup created an overwhelming, immersive experience that few bands could replicate. Seeing so many musicians on stage, all locked into the same energy, made their performances feel larger than life.

This album is awesomely anthemic and audacious. It’s expansive and bold. It deals with big, bold concepts. And it for sure deals in life’s details. It's filled with the sort of loss and contemplation of death you start dealing with in your late 20s and early 30s (and really never goes away and only worsens after that). And this doesn't even capture the live experience. Seeing them live is almost a religious experience.

I saw Arcade Fire for the first time in 2005 at The Riv in Chicago, and it was unreal. They opened with "Wake Up," and the crowd just erupted with that massive, wordless chorus. There’s something about a couple thousand people singing “oh oh oh oh oh oh oh” together that instantly makes you feel like part of something bigger. It wasn’t just a song; it was a moment. That’s what Arcade Fire does better than almost anyone—they take big emotions, big themes, and make them feel even bigger when performed live. And then, as we were leaving, they played an acoustic set in the lobby. Who does that? It was one of the coolest live music experiences I’ve ever had.

And that was just the beginning. I’ve seen them live six times now, and every single time, songs like "Wake Up" and "Rebellion (Lies)" hit just as hard as they did that first night. "Rebellion" especially—it’s the kind of song built to be shouted in a crowd. That relentless bassline, the driving rhythm, and then that chorus—"Lies! Lies!"—it’s impossible not to scream it out. Every time I’ve seen them play it, it’s a pure cathartic release.

When I first got into Funeral, I wasn’t really analyzing it. I just dove in and loved it. I didn’t necessarily know what "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)" was about, but I knew it felt massive, and that was enough. The whole album is like that—soaring, anthemic, urgent. And the way it weaves through different emotions and textures—something like "Haiti" brings a totally different feel but still fits perfectly within the world of Funeral.

But Wake Up—that’s the song that defines the album for me.

“Something filled up my heart with nothing. Someone told me not to cry.”

That’s how it begins. A massive guitar hook, those rallying “Ohhhhhhhs!” from the crowd, and then those opening lines—angry, disappointed, but not consumed by that anger. Instead of lashing out, the band channels that frustration into something bigger: a communal, anthemic release. Make no mistake—this song is ultra earnest. This song believes in rock and roll in a way that few other songs do (think Baba O’Riley levels of belief). It believes that music can save people. And if you’ve ever heard it live, you know why Arcade Fire and thousands of fans screaming along believe it too.

Wake Up connects. It connects in a real and visceral way. It’s a defiant response to disappointment, a rejection of empty authority, a truth bomb wrapped in an anthem. “Now that I’m older; my heart’s colder; and I can see that it’s a lie.” Win Butler is still angry, but he’s not stewing in it—he’s turning it into something massive, something triumphant. And for anyone who has ever stood in a crowd and shouted along, that connection is undeniable.

I’ve had the extreme pleasure of seeing Arcade Fire live many times, and Wake Up never fails to be a moment of pure magic. It’s impossible not to be caught up in it. I even have an Arcade Fire poster from 2008 hanging in my house—a little reminder of how much this band and this song have meant to me over the years. And every time I hear it, I’m right back there, singing along with thousands of other people, caught up in something bigger than myself.And it’s that world of Funeral that has stuck with me for two decades. It wasn’t just a moment in time for me; it’s an album that has grown with me. It’s one of those rare albums that you don’t outgrow because its themes—loss, nostalgia, resilience—only feel more relevant the older you get. And the live experience has only reinforced that. Some bands sound great on record but don’t bring the same energy live. Arcade Fire is the opposite—they enhance the experience, making the songs feel even bigger than they already are.

Even though I likely first heard Funeral in the student lounge (or loud study room as we sometimes called it) — probably because my friend Matt shared it with me—it has lived far beyond that moment. It became part of my soundtrack, but more importantly, it became part of my experience. Seeing them live, singing along with (now) thousands of people, feeling that communal energy—that’s what made Funeral something that has stuck with me all these years. And that’s why it’s on my 50 Albums list. It’s not just a record; it’s something I’ve lived through, again and again.

The Monitor - Titus Andronicus | 50 albums in 50 years | Self-Loathing as a Soundtrack: How The Monitor Captured My Internal War

2025-06-20T09:27:00.000-07:00

“So when I leave Boston, my tail is between my legs. After deep cuts of patience and drunk to the dregs. And now I'm heading west on 84 again. And I'm as much of an asshole as I've ever been. And there is still nothing about myself I respect. Still haven't done anything I did not later regret. I have a hand and a napkin when I'm looking for sex. And that's no one to talk to when feeling depressed. And so now when I drink, I'm going to drink to excess. And when I smoke, I will smoke gaping holes in my chest. And when I scream, I will scream until I'm gasping for breath. And when I get sick, I will stay sick for the rest. Of my days peddling hate at the back of a Chevy Express. Each one a fart in the face of your idea of success. And if this be thy will, then fuckin' pass me the cup. And I'm sorry dad, no, I'm not making this up!”

Self-loathing. Yeah, that's probably the #1 emotion I've felt over the past 15 years. If there's any album that gets that feeling just right, it's The Monitor. I feel this record so deeply it's almost embarrassing. In 2010, while I was living in San Francisco, Titus Andronicus dropped this wild, sprawling, chaotic concept album that uses the American Civil War as a metaphor for all the messy, internal battles—depression, self-loathing, disillusionment—that people fight every day. At the time, I was already a fan; I'd connected with their debut The Airing of Grievances and had The Monitor pre-ordered on vinyl (released 15 years ago today). I knew I'd like it, but I had no idea it would become one of the most meaningful albums of my life—a record that felt like it was written specifically for me then and somehow keeps hitting me harder as the years pass. And now, 15 years later, I’ve seen every live show in San Francisco by the band. I love this band.

I was taking Lexapro at the time the album came out, still trying to make sense of my depression. At a Titus Andronicus concert, Patrick Stickles talked about being on Lexapro too. It was one of those rare moments where an artist you admire says something that directly validates your own experience. The Monitor wasn't just an album—it was proof that someone else understood the storm inside my head.

Today, it's my #2 album of all time. And honestly, it could be #1 on any given day. Its themes of despair, anger, self-destruction, and fleeting hope resonate more deeply now than they did back when I first heard it. In a lot of ways, my relationship with this album mirrors the themes Stickles explores—disillusionment, self-awareness, and that stubborn feeling that you're just never quite good enough. When I first discovered The Monitor, I was just starting to understand my depression. Since then, I've faced major life changes, setbacks, and personal struggles, and wrestled with countless internal wars. And through it all, these songs have been there, like a slightly unhinged but deeply honest friend saying, Yeah, it really is that bad sometimes, but let's keep going anyway.

And let's talk about how the album sounds. It doesn't just sit quietly in the corner waiting for you to feel something. The guitars snarl like wild animals, the drums hit like cannon fire, and Stickles' voice? It's raw, cracked, and perfectly imperfect. There's this punk energy that collides head-on with Springsteen-like ambition—big, messy, anthemic songs that make you want to scream along, even if you're not entirely sure what you're screaming about. The production is intentionally rough around the edges, mirroring the chaos of mental illness. Listening feels like being pulled into a fever dream where self-loathing has a marching band.

The Spoken Word Segments: Framing the Chaos

One of the most unique elements of The Monitor is the spoken word segments that appear between songs. These passages, drawn from historical speeches, letters, and literary sources, serve as both a narrative device and an emotional anchor. They don’t just add depth to the album’s Civil War metaphor—they frame the personal battles playing out within each song.

The album begins with an excerpt from Abraham Lincoln’s Lyceum Address:

"From whence shall we expect the approach of danger? Shall some transatlantic giant step the earth and crush us at a blow? Never! All the armies of Europe and Asia could not, by force. Take a drink from the Ohio River. Or set a track on the Blue Ridge in the trial of a thousand years. If destruction be our lot, we ourselves must be its author and finisher. As a nation of free men, we will live forever, or die by suicide"

It’s an ominous warning, setting the stage for an album obsessed with self-destruction. Lincoln was speaking about the dangers of internal decay—the idea that the greatest threats to a nation come from within. That idea applies just as easily to institutions, relationships, and the human mind. The album takes this concept and runs with it: the destruction is internal, whether it’s a country tearing itself apart, a failing company, the slow disintegration of a marriage, or the suffocating weight of self-loathing.

Another devastating spoken-word moment arrives before No Future Part Three, when a passage from Abraham Lincoln is recited:

"I am now the most miserable man living. If what I feel were equally distributed to the whole human family, there would not be one cheerful face on the earth."

Hearing this sentiment spoken aloud in the middle of The Monitor is crushing. Lincoln—arguably the most revered leader in American history—was haunted by despair, and here we are, 150 years later, feeling the exact same thing. Depression, hopelessness, and internal war are timeless. This passage perfectly sets up the themes of No Future Part Three, which dives headfirst into the numbness and exhaustion of living with depression.

Perhaps the most devastating spoken-word moment comes in A Pot In Which To Piss, when a passage is read over the closing chaos. Walt Whitman’s words about burying fallen soldiers add a sense of tragic finality to the album’s themes of loss, making it clear that no matter how much we fight, some battles will always end in ruin.

These segments elevate The Monitor beyond a mere punk rock album. They make it feel like a historical epic—one where the war is both external and internal, past and present, deeply personal yet universally understood.

A More Perfect Union: The Futility of Escape

The album opens with A More Perfect Union (I wrote a Best Song Ever about this song in 2021), and right out of the gate, it's like Stickles is screaming directly at me. Back then, I was still fresh to San Francisco, full of hope that maybe a new city would fix whatever was broken inside me. Spoiler: it didn't. The narrator leaves New Jersey for Boston, thinking distance will fix his demons. I knew that move.

"Because where I'm going to now, no one can ever hurt me / Where the well of human hatred is shallow and dry."

Yeah, right. The guitars come in hot and relentless. It feels like someone's kicking down your door, and you're just standing there, half-dressed, wondering what the hell is happening. The Springsteen references in this song aren't subtle—there's even a distorted nod to Born to Run—but instead of dreaming about the open road, Stickles snarls, "Tramps like us, baby we were born to die." It's like he took Bruce's romanticism and doused it in gasoline.

But it’s these lines that gut me every time:

“'Cause if I come in on a donkey, let me go out on a gurney. I want to realize too late I never should have left New Jersey.”

Followed by these lines:

"I sense the enemy, they're rustling around in the trees / I thought I had gotten away but they followed me to 02143 / Woe, oh woe is me, no one knows the trouble I see."

That feeling of trying to escape, only to realize that whatever you're running from is still right there with you—I knew that feeling intimately. Depression, self-doubt, regret—they don’t stay behind when you move somewhere new. They follow. And the way Stickles delivers these lines, exhausted and full of bitter recognition, makes it hit even harder.

No Future Part Three: Depression, Lexapro, and the Endless Loop

Patrick Stickles has said that No Future Part Three is about being on Lexapro, and when I was on Lexapro at the time this album came out, hearing him say that at a concert made it hit even harder. It’s one thing to hear a song and feel like it gets you—it’s another to hear the artist confirm that they were experiencing exactly what you were.

"Everything makes me nervous / And nothing feels good for no reason / Waking up, it's rarely worth it / The same dark dread every morning"

That opening line is such a painfully accurate articulation of depression. It doesn’t just describe feeling bad—it describes that empty, inexplicable dread that so many people with depression know all too well. There’s no reason, there’s no logic, and yet, everything feels unbearable. It perfectly captures the sense of being stuck in a state of discomfort without an obvious cause.

"I used to look myself in the mirror at the end of every day / But I took the one thing that made me beautiful and threw it away."

That line is brutal. Depression medication helped me get out of bed, but it also muted everything, making me feel like a ghost of myself. Stickles captures that feeling perfectly—the dissociation, the sense that you’ve surrendered some essential part of yourself just to function. The way the song builds to that relentless, looping chant—"You will always be a loser"—feels like intrusive thoughts taking over. It’s exhausting. It’s suffocating. And when I was in the thick of it, it was exactly what my brain sounded like.

Richard II: Self-Loathing and the Weight of Regret

Richard II is another song that hits me hard. The sneering, bitter tone captures the essence of spiraling self-loathing, and the lyrics feel like they were ripped straight from my own intrusive thoughts.

"Of course, you have never been to blame for the various horrible things that you did / You may have gotten away with them too, if not for those meddling kids."

That sarcastic, almost mocking delivery gets under my skin. It’s the voice in my head that refuses to let things go, that keeps rehashing mistakes and failures long after they should have faded. There’s something about the way Stickles makes self-loathing sound like an unstoppable force that I completely understand.

Then there’s the gut punch:

“And whatever amount you paid / For your many distractions, well, it was too much/ And at the end of the day/ To whatever extent you hate yourself, it isn't enough”

That line lingers. Depression has a way of convincing you that no amount of self-criticism is sufficient, that you deserve every bad thing coming to you. It’s a brutal, unfiltered moment in an album that thrives on emotional honesty.

Musically, the song is raw, aggressive, and filled with tension. The guitar work feels jagged, almost like it’s tripping over itself, while the drumming pounds away like a relentless internal monologue. It’s claustrophobic and chaotic in the best possible way.

"I will not deny my humanity / I'll be rolling in it like a pig in feces."

This line is almost defiant, a moment where Stickles acknowledges his flaws but refuses to pretend he’s anything else. There’s something strangely liberating about that. It’s as if he’s saying, Fine, I’m disgusting. But at least I know it. The song doesn’t offer a solution, just a cold, unvarnished look at what it feels like to be trapped in a cycle of self-loathing.

By the time the track ends, there’s no catharsis, no resolution. Just the lingering weight of regret and an uneasy acknowledgment that this battle isn’t ending anytime soon.

A Pot in Which to Piss: The Brutal Reality of Failure

This song is one of the most devastating moments on the album, a ruthless examination of ambition, disillusionment, and the public nature of failure. A Pot in Which to Piss hits differently for me now than it did when I first heard it. When my startup went through a firesale, this song became the soundtrack to that crushing realization: you can do everything right, make all the right choices, and still end up with nothing.

The build is up is awesome and captures thinking you’re going to be ok. You’re going to make it through. You might actually feel success. This beginning is 2020-2021 for me.

“It was a pretty good GPA/We got a couple of good grades/And it sounded like a pretty good seven inch/And winter didn't seem so cold/And I had a smile for everyone I know/ I was starting to get comfortable in the place that I'm in.”

But then….

"Nothing means anything anymore / Everything is less than zero."

That lyric feels like a gut punch. Depression already has a way of making everything seem pointless, but when you experience a major personal or professional failure, that feeling intensifies. The belief that hard work will guarantee success is a lie I’ve had to unlearn over and over. Stickles gets at this with brutal precision:

"You can't make it on merit, not on merit and merit alone."

That line has echoed in my head for years. I was told that even if you do everything right, things might not work out—but experiencing it firsthand was a different beast. A Pot in Which to Piss isn’t just about personal failure; it’s about how the world watches, judges, and discards you when you fall.

Or even the preceeding lines:

“Let them see you struggle and they're going to tear you apart. You ain't never been no virgin, kid, you were fucked from the start.”

The way the song builds in intensity mirrors that rising frustration. Stickles sounds like he’s about to lose his voice by the time he screams:

"They're all gonna be laughing at you!"

The public nature of failure can be unbearable. This song captures that better than anything I’ve ever heard.

Four Score and Seven: The Never-Ending War

This song is a perfect storm of relentless instrumentation and brutal honesty. The alliteration in the lyrics makes the song feel like an unrelenting assault, a verbal battering ram against the listener. Every word feels like it's pushing you deeper into the pit of despair, reinforcing the album’s themes of self-destruction and exhaustion.

"We're all depraved and disgusting," I spew like a fountain "And debased, defaced, disgraced and destroyed Most of all disappointed" I say atop this mountain As I urinate into the void Fuck I'm frustrated, freaking out something fierce Would you help me, I'm hungry, I suffer and I starve Oh I struggle and I stammer 'till I'm up to my ears In miserable quote unquote art

This verse is pure frustration, and the way Stickles delivers it—rapid, breathless, seething—makes it impossible to ignore. The song captures the feeling of battling against everything, including yourself, and losing. The imagery of "urinate into the void" is a sharp, grotesque way of describing futility. It’s an admission that all this effort, all this suffering, may not mean anything, and yet, we keep screaming into the abyss.

Then comes the line that hits like a hammer:

"It's still us against them / And they're winning."

At first, I thought this line was about external conflict—about the world, about politics, about class war. But as time passed, I realized this battle is entirely internal. It’s a war between the version of myself that wants to be better and the version that wants to self-destruct. And most days, that second version wins. That’s what this song sounds like: the slow, grinding realization that you might be fighting a war you can’t win.

The music only reinforces this. The pounding drums and walls of guitar feel like they’re closing in on you. It’s one of the most intense songs on the album, and yet it’s also one of the most cathartic. It forces you to confront the ugliness inside yourself and makes you scream it out loud.

This is a song that doesn’t just express despair—it drowns you in it.

To Old Friends and New: The Exhaustion of Holding On

This song always felt like a conversation I’d had a hundred times before. Two people, too tired to keep fighting but too scared to let go. The exhaustion seeps through every note.

"Like the time traveler who killed his grandfather, these cycles are bringing me down."

That cycle—of arguing, of trying to fix things, of failing and trying again—was one I knew well. The back-and-forth tension in this song mirrors that feeling perfectly. The push-and-pull of a relationship that’s crumbling but not quite gone yet.

Jenn Wasner’s guest vocals add an important counterpoint. There’s a detachment in her voice, a sense of quiet resignation that makes the song feel even heavier. It’s not a screaming match; it’s two people looking at each other and realizing there’s nothing left to say.

"Well, it’s alright the way that you live."

That repeated phrase in the outro feels like a form of forced acceptance. It’s what you say when you know things aren’t okay, but you can’t change them. It’s the kind of thing I told myself over and over near the end of my marriage, trying to convince myself that maybe things could still work out when, deep down, I knew they wouldn’t.

The slow build of the instrumentation, the way it swirls and grows but never quite explodes, mirrors that feeling of being stuck in limbo. There’s no resolution here—just the quiet realization that something is slipping away, whether you’re ready or not.

The Battle of Hampton Roads: 14 Minutes of Emotional Carnage

The closing track of The Monitor, The Battle of Hampton Roads, is nothing short of a masterpiece. Clocking in at over 14 minutes, it is not only the longest song on the album but also its emotional and thematic peak. This song isn't just the conclusion to The Monitor—it’s the full unraveling of everything that came before it, a slow-motion collapse wrapped in defiant desperation.

The song opens with a chaotic burst of energy before settling into the first verse, where Stickles’ voice wavers between anger and exhaustion:

"The things I used to love I have come to reject / The things I used to hate I have learned to accept."`

This lyric devastates me every time. It perfectly encapsulates the feeling of becoming numb to the things that once mattered most. Depression does this—it erodes passion, dulls love, makes joy feel like a distant memory. It’s a quiet resignation, an acknowledgment that the person you were is no longer there.

“I think the wrong people got a hold of your brain. When it was nothing but a piece of putty. Though try as you may but you will always be a tourist. Little buddy.”

The next section of the song is a whirlwind of self-destruction. Stickles delivers a stream-of-consciousness rant about drinking, smoking, screaming until he’s gasping for breath. It’s overwhelming, and that’s exactly the point. The war imagery throughout the album culminates here—except now, the battle isn’t just metaphorical. It’s Stickles versus himself.

"So now when I drink, I’m going to drink to excess / And when I smoke, I will smoke gaping holes in my chest."

This is not rebellion—it’s surrender. The overwhelming wall of instrumentation behind his words makes it sound like he’s drowning in his own thoughts, giving in to every destructive impulse just to feel something. It’s the musical equivalent of spiraling, of reaching the point where even self-harm feels like the only option left.

As the song continues, the theme of loss becomes painfully personal. The most crushing moment comes when Stickles sings:

"But, my enemy, it’s your name on my lips as I go to sleep / And I know what little I’ve known of peace / Yes, I’ve done to you what you’ve done to me / And I’d be nothing without you, my darling, please don’t ever leave."

For a long time, I thought this line was about depression itself—the strange, paradoxical relationship you develop with your own suffering. But over time, I realized something else: this line is about someone specific. It’s about the person you’ve fought with, the one you’ve hurt and been hurt by, the one you can’t imagine living without, even as everything crumbles around you.

For me, this was my ex-wife. Even as our relationship fell apart, even as I knew the end was inevitable, I still had that desperate, irrational need to hold on. The war might have been lost, but surrender didn’t feel like an option.

Then, in the song’s final stretch, the bagpipes arrive. It’s an unexpected but brilliant choice, turning the song into a kind of dirge, a funeral procession for everything that’s been lost. The noise reaches an unbearable peak before fading into silence—no resolution, no victory, just the sound of collapse.

In the end, The Battle of Hampton Roads is the perfect closer for The Monitor. It’s long, messy, heartbreaking, and brutally honest. It doesn’t try to make sense of the wreckage—it just shows you what it looks like to stand in the middle of it and scream until your voice gives out.

Perfect From Now - Built To Spill | 50 Albums in 50 years | The Album That Opened the Door to a World of Indie Rock

2025-06-20T09:16:00.000-07:00

“I will be perfect from now on. I will be perfect starting now.”

1. The Introduction: A Burned CD That Changed Everything

In the fall of 2003, I was just starting to dip my toes into indie music. As I’ve mentioned before, I’d recently discovered The Postal Service and was getting into Death Cab, The Shins, and some other indie bands. But things really blew open when my friend Chris Stori introduced me to Built To Spill. We were sitting next to each other on a ski trip bus ride, talking about music. A few weeks later, when we got back to school in January 2004, I showed up to find a burned copy of Perfect From Now On waiting for me in my business school “mailbox”. My musical world shifted again the moment I put that CD into my car stereo. It was like, 'Whoa, I didn’t know stuff like this even existed, and I love it.' That album didn’t just open the door—it practically kicked it down—and suddenly I was deep into guitar-driven indie rock, starting with Built To Spill and spreading into the world of Modest Mouse and other Pacific Northwest bands.

2. The Sound: A Sonic Experience Like No Other

Built to Spill’s Perfect From Now On isn’t just an album; it’s like an invitation to get lost in a maze of wild guitar riffs, trippy lyrics, and big, existential questions. Released in 1997, it’s this cool mix of indie rock and prog influences, but it never feels too polished or self-important. For me, though, the magic was less about the technical stuff and more about how it sounded—and how that sound made me feel.

3. The Moment of Discovery: Hooked on Existential Musings

The first time I heard Randy Described Eternity, I honestly don’t remember if it was in my car, on my home stereo, or on my computer. I just know that when those opening notes hit, I was instantly transported. Those opening notes hit, and suddenly I was picturing this massive, endless timeline that Martsch sings about—just this mind-bending concept of infinity wrapped in distortion. It wasn’t like the music I was used to. It wasn’t trying to be catchy or slick; it was like it was asking me to think, to feel weirdly small and curious at the same time. Looking back, I think that’s what hooked me: the existential musings. That feeling of standing at the edge of something so big you can’t wrap your brain around it.

4. The Chase: Seeking Out That Feeling Again

By the time I Would Hurt a Fly came on, I was all in. The creepy bassline, the dissonant guitars, the lyrics that felt like a mix of anger, resignation, and confusion—it was like someone had put all these weird, hard-to-name feelings into sound. I didn’t get all the references or the deeper meanings right away, but it didn’t matter. I just knew it felt different. It felt real.

After that, I started chasing that feeling. I went looking for more bands that had that same messy, emotional, guitar-driven vibe. Built To Spill also led me to Dinosaur Jr., Sebadoh, Guided By Voices, Dismemberment Plan, Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, Neutral Milk Hotel, Yo La Tengo, and so many more. I went looking for more bands that had that same messy, emotional, guitar-driven vibe. That’s when I found Modest Mouse, Pavement, Elliott Smith—bands that became cornerstones of my music obsession. But Built To Spill was the one that set it all in motion. Their songs didn’t follow the typical verse-chorus-verse blueprint; they wandered, stretched out, got weird—and I loved that.

5. The Album’s Contradictions: Long, Loose, and Hypnotic

And that’s kind of the thing with Perfect From Now On. It’s full of contradictions. The songs are long but never boring. The lyrics ask these big, heavy questions, but the music still feels loose and spontaneous. Take Velvet Waltz, for example. The guitars in that song feel like they’re floating, like you’re being pulled along by some invisible current. I remember listening to it one night with my headphones on, just lying there with my eyes closed, feeling like I was being transported somewhere far away. Not to get too dramatic, but it was the kind of experience that makes you realize how powerful music can be.

6. The Sound Over the Substance: A Different Kind of Connection

And then there’s Stop the Show. It’s like Martsch is pulling back the curtain on the whole idea of authenticity in music, asking what it even means to be 'real' when you’re performing. I was just starting to write about music around this time, and that song made me think about why certain songs or bands felt more genuine than others. It wasn’t about perfection—it was about the vibe, the rawness, the willingness to be vulnerable without trying too hard.

But honestly, I don’t think Perfect From Now On had an emotional core for me. It wasn’t like other albums where I could point to a specific theme or feeling that kept me coming back. With this one, it was all about the sound. The way the guitars swirled around each other, the way the distortion created this dreamy, slightly unhinged atmosphere—that’s what stuck with me. It didn’t matter if I fully understood the lyrics. The sound itself did the heavy lifting.

7. The Legacy: A Launching Pad for Musical Exploration

Over the years, I discovered other albums that hit me in a similar way—like The Lonesome Crowded West by Modest Mouse or Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain by Pavement—but Perfect From Now On was the starting point. It’s not really an album I go back to all the time, though. I mean, I do listen to it sometimes, but it feels more like a launching pad than a destination. It was the album that made me realize how much was out there beyond the mainstream stuff I’d grown up with. It got me excited to keep digging, to find more bands, more sounds, more of that indescribable feeling I got the first time I heard those opening chords.

8. The Lasting Impact: A Burned CD That Opened a Universe

That’s the thing about music, though, right? You never know what’s going to hit you until it does. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, a friend hands you a burned CD, and you end up with an album like Perfect From Now On that changes the way you hear everything else. For me, that’s what this album was: the beginning of a lifelong obsession with weird, guitar-heavy indie rock—and with the endless search for the next song that makes me feel like that person driving around in 2004, completely awestruck by a sound I didn’t even know existed until then.

xx - The xx | 50 albums in 50 years | The Enduring Echo of xx: How The xx Captured a Moment in Time

2025-03-30T15:31:00.000-07:00

“Give it up. I can't give it up.”

The Blog Era and 2009’s Music Scene

Back in 2009, indie music lived and breathed on the internet. Blogs like Pitchfork, Stereogum, and BrooklynVegan were the gatekeepers, shaping what was cool and what wasn’t. If a band got the right write-up, they could go from total obscurity to the top of festival lineups. Indie rock was shifting—moving away from the dance-punk and garage rock of the early 2000s into something more intricate, more atmospheric. Animal Collective was making weird, wonderful soundscapes, Dirty Projectors were getting experimental, and bands like Phoenix and Passion Pit were making indie pop with electronic flourishes. It was a wild time, and if you were paying attention, it felt like you were discovering music in real time.

How We Got Our Music in 2009

Streaming wasn’t really a thing yet. Spotify was just starting in Europe, but in the U.S., we were still figuring it out. Apple Music didn’t exist, and iTunes made you buy everything track by track. Most of us had massive MP3 libraries, built through a mix of legal (and, let’s be honest, not-so-legal) downloads from places like LimeWire, Soulseek, or blog-hosted MP3s. Vinyl was starting to make a comeback, but mostly among people who really cared about the listening experience. CDs were still around but fading. The main way you found new music? Blogs, friends, or some random forum where someone swore up and down that you had to check out this new band.

Moving to San Francisco and Finding My Soundtrack

2009 was a big year for me. I’d just moved to San Francisco from Chicago, starting fresh, figuring things out. I was in a pretty good place—excited about the city, spending time with close friends, still trying to work through my own stuff but feeling connected to the people around me. Music was a big part of that. I was consuming it constantly, pulling recommendations from blogs, downloading new albums, trying to find the right soundtrack for this new chapter of my life.

The First Time I Heard xx

And then xx hit me. It was one of those albums that just stopped me in my tracks. It wasn’t just music—it was a mood, a space, a moment frozen in time. The way Romy Madley Croft and Oliver Sim barely raised their voices, like they were letting you in on some whispered secret, while Jamie xx stripped everything down to the essentials. It felt like negative space in music form. And the weirdest part? These were love songs. And I didn’t even think I liked love songs. But these weren’t the typical grand, sweeping gestures—these were about hesitation, miscommunication, the push and pull of intimacy. And that? That hit me.

The Sound of Distance and Connection

At the time, I wasn’t sitting around pondering the meaning of love, but xx made me feel something I couldn’t quite name. It captured the feeling of being close to someone and still feeling miles apart. The way Romy and Oliver traded lines like two people circling each other but never fully connecting—it was haunting. And Jamie xx’s production? Surgical. Every note, every pause, every echo felt intentional, like he knew exactly what to leave out to make you feel more.

The Tracks That Stuck With Me

"Intro" was the perfect way in. That looping guitar, the pulsing beat—it felt like walking into a dark room and letting your eyes adjust. It didn’t need words to tell you how it felt.

"Infinity" was the one that really stuck, though. That creeping guitar, the eerie spaciousness, the echoing refrain of "Give it up"—it felt massive and empty at the same time. And then, at the end, when Romy sings "Can’t give it up" one last time? Absolutely ridiculous. Subtly anthemic, but it hits like a gut punch. Like you’re screaming into the void, but the void is just quiet enough to hear you back.

"Stars" hit in a different way. The whole "They’ve all got stars in their eyes" line—it made me think about how much we project onto other people, how we romanticize moments and memories that might not be as deep as we want them to be. It was understated but hit in just the right way.

And then there’s "Shelter." I liked it, but it wasn’t the gut punch for me that it was for some people. Still, Romy’s delivery of "Maybe I had said something that was wrong / Can I make it better with the lights turned on?" is so raw and so small—it’s that feeling of wanting to undo something, knowing you can’t, but still hoping that maybe, just maybe, there’s a way back.

xx and Vinyl—A Perfect Match

I played xx a lot. And when I really wanted to sink into it, I played it on vinyl. It’s the kind of album that was made for that format—the warmth, the slight crackle, the way the space between sounds feels even more alive. It forced me to slow down, to sit with it, to really listen. In a world that was starting to feel more and more instant, listening to xx on vinyl made it feel tangible, like something I could hold onto.

Looking Back

I even wrote about it back then—put it at number one on my best-of-the-year list. I knew it was special, but I didn’t know if we’d ever get something like it from The xx again. And in a way, that made it even better. It was lightning in a bottle.

The genius of xx is in what it leaves out. The silences between words, the spaces between notes. It doesn’t tell you exactly how to feel—it just gives you enough to find yourself in it. And even now, after all these years, I keep coming back to it. The way it aches, the way it hesitates, the way it breathes.

Maybe that’s why xx still feels timeless to me. It’s not just an album. It’s a memory. A feeling. A snapshot of a moment stretched out forever.

Nevermind - Nirvana | 50 Albums In 50 Years The Album That Cracked Everything Open

2025-02-22T09:35:00.000-08:00

“I'm so happy 'cause today I found my friends. They're in my head. I'm so ugly, that's okay, 'cause so are you. Broke our mirrors. Sunday morning is everyday, for all I care. And I'm not scared. Light my candles in a daze. 'Cause I've found God.”

If I were to give someone from a younger generation an album to introduce them to the grunge scene in Seattle circa the early '90s, I wouldn't give them Pearl Jam's Ten or Soundgarden's Superunknown. I would give them Nirvana's Nevermind. Everything about this album screams what the early nineties alternative and specifically grunge scene was about.

1. The Revelation: Smells Like Teen Spirit

In the winter of 91-92, I had just turned 16-year-old and was a sophomore in high school, a right-wing Republican in the middle of Iowa, blasting classic rock—mostly Led Zeppelin and The Eagles—along with some Garth Brooks, Guns N’ Roses, and the Beastie Boys. So, it’s not like I wasn’t into hard and heavy music, but punk? That was a whole different beast. And then Nevermind happened. More specifically, Smells Like Teen Spirit happened.

The first time I heard it and saw the video, it was like a switch flipped in my brain. Up until that moment, music had been more than just something I liked—it was part of who I was. It shaped my identity, gave me something to hold onto. But Nevermind did something I wasn’t expecting. It gave me a voice I didn’t even know I needed. I had already been into Paul’s Boutique, which was weird and offbeat, but this? This was something else entirely. Smells Like Teen Spirit wasn’t just new—it was mine. It felt like it belonged to me and my generation.

That opening riff? Hypnotic. Simple. Then—boom—those drums. Dave Grohl didn’t just play; he attacked. It was violent, chaotic, perfect. And when the chorus hit, it detonated. That wall of distortion, the raw energy—it was like permission to feel something I hadn’t even realized was inside me. And the last words of the last verse, "oh well, whatever, nevermind", captured the malaise and indifference of Gen X, of my generation. It wasn't even clear what the song was actually about. Sure, there were words, but it was really the sound, the vibe, the feelings it evoked that made it an anthem. The raw energy—that's what hit us in the chest.

And what I felt was anger. Not in a directed way, not something I could name, just this deep, simmering frustration I hadn’t fully acknowledged before. Nirvana didn’t give me that anger; they just unleashed it. The loud-quiet-loud dynamic of the song felt like it was physically shaking something loose inside me. One second restrained, the next exploding into pure chaos. It mirrored something I didn’t even know I was feeling.

But it wasn’t just the song—it was the video.

That video was everything. If you were a kid in the Midwest, it taught you everything you needed to know. It showed you how to dress, how to act, and how to move to this music. The grimy, smoke-filled gym, the anarchist cheerleaders, Cobain’s slurred delivery, the way the whole thing built to total destruction—it was raw, dangerous, alive. It felt like something I wasn’t supposed to be watching, like something real was happening right in front of me. And that ending? Full-blown chaos. Kids smashing everything, bodies colliding, total destruction. It was like the world I knew was collapsing in real-time.

2. The Clean Break

I didn’t buy Nevermind right away. I had just started working, and money was tight. It wasn’t like Nevermind was everywhere that winter—it was still bubbling up. I remember hearing bits and pieces about it, seeing it here and there, and feeling like I was missing out. When I finally bought it in the spring, it felt like stepping into something I had been waiting for. The moment I pressed play, it was undeniable—this album wasn’t just something I wanted; it was something I needed.

It wasn’t like I sat down and decided, Okay, time to change everything! It just happened. My focus shifted. The music I had been listening to no longer held the same weight. It wasn’t that it was bad or irrelevant—it just didn’t feel true in the way Nevermind did.

But I didn’t just stop listening to old favorites—I discovered something new. My good friend Brion Fairbanks and I went deep. We didn’t just play Nirvana on repeat—we dove headfirst into the whole alternative scene. Nine Inch Nails, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Pearl Jam, Smashing Pumpkins. Nevermind wasn’t just an album; it was a gateway drug. It opened a door to an entirely new world of music, one that felt raw, messy, and real in a way nothing else had before.

And yeah, I started dressing differently. Band t-shirts, flannel—it wasn’t just me, it was all of us. It wasn’t even about fashion; it was about belonging. We weren’t just rejecting what came before—we were finding something that made us feel connected. We had a new language, a new identity, and it was built on these songs.

3. The Personal Hit: Lithium

Then came Lithium. (I actually wrote about this song in a separate post, digging into how much it resonated with me, but it deserves a place here too.)

When I saw the title on the CD, it already meant something to me. My mom had manic depression (bipolar disorder), and she was on lithium to stabilize her moods. At 16, that fact consumed me. I didn’t know that other people even knew what lithium was. But Kurt did.

Hearing the song for the first time, I had no idea what to expect. But the screaming, the lyrics—it all made sense. The way the song swung between restraint and explosion was exactly what manic depression looked like. One second calm, almost detached; the next, raging. The way he invoked God felt desperate, like a last-ditch plea for something to hold onto. And then those screams at the end—“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!”—it was everything. Not just about mental illness, but about angst in general. About anything a teenager felt trapped by.

At the time, I couldn’t have put that into words. I just felt it. Looking back, it’s obvious—this wasn’t just music I liked. It was music that reflected my life.

4. The Reflection: Chaos in the Sound, Chaos at Home

As I've mentioned before, my home life was chaotic. Everything felt unstable.

At the time, I didn’t think of it as abnormal. It was just life. And that’s what’s so wild about Nevermind—it didn’t just sound good, it mirrored that instability. Not in a way I could consciously recognize at 16, but in a way I felt. The album swung between moods—explosive, quiet, messy, melodic, chaotic. Just like my life.

It took years to realize that was why it hit so hard. At 16, I wasn’t sitting around analyzing it—I was just living it. And Nirvana was there, giving me something that felt true.

5. The Lasting Impact

More than 30 years later, Nevermind still hits. It’s not nostalgia—it’s alive. When I hear Lithium, I’m 16 again. Smells Like Teen Spirit still makes my heart race. Territorial Pissings is still an unhinged, beautiful mess. And Drain You still gives me that brief moment of breath before everything crashes down again.

But now, I get it. Nevermind wasn’t just a musical shift—it was a turning point. It changed what I listened to, how I saw myself, and in some ways, who I became. It was rebellion and belonging, chaos and connection. It was mine.

It still is.

The Chronic - Dr. Dre | 50 Albums in 50 Years | Blown Away by The Chronic—Before I Even Knew What That Meant

2025-02-19T08:14:00.000-08:00

"Bow wow wow yippie yo yippie yay, doggie dogg is in the mutherfuckin house."

Spring, 1993. I was 17 years old, a junior in high school in Marion, Iowa, a quiet but growing town in the Cedar Rapids metro area. Back then, life didn’t feel simple or predictable—far from it. My musical world reflected the tension I felt inside: 75% Pearl Jam and the Seattle grunge sound, and the rest filled out by whatever was cycling through MTV. Hip hop? It wasn’t really on my radar. Sure, I liked the Beastie Boys, but I wasn’t seeking out the genre, and I certainly didn’t know much about NWA or the rising solo acts connected to them.

Then my friend Chad came back from spring break.

Somewhere on his trip, Chad had discovered The Chronic. I don’t know exactly where or how he found it, but when he got back to Marion, he shared it with me. I had no idea what I was about to hear. But as soon as the first notes hit, my musical world started to shift.

I don’t know exactly what struck me first—the lush, hypnotic G-funk sound or the raw, unfiltered storytelling. Maybe it was both at once, hitting me from different angles. Dr. Dre’s production was unlike anything I’d heard before: smooth, melodic, and immersive, built on deep basslines, shimmering synths, and grooves that felt both laid-back and heavy. It had an undeniable funk to it, an energy that felt miles away from the raw angst of grunge. And yet, in a strange way, it also felt familiar. I grew up with my mom’s disco records and my dad’s Motown favorites playing in the background, and The Chronic felt like it shared some of that DNA. The rhythms, the grooves, the way it made you move—it wasn’t abrasive or harsh. It was melodic, beautiful even, but it carried weight.

The language was jarring, explicit, and relentless. The Chronic didn’t hold back—it wasn’t meant to. It was aggressive, unapologetic, and bursting with a kind of directness I wasn’t used to hearing in music. Every “fuck,” every “bitch,” every violent, chaotic scene painted in the lyrics demanded attention. This wasn’t just music—it was a world being built in real time, and I was being dropped into the middle of it.

And those stories? They were a revelation.

At 17, I wasn’t sheltered, but I’d had no exposure to the specific topics Dre was addressing. The world I lived in was vastly different from the one he described. The Chronic didn’t just hint at that—it threw open the doors to an entirely different reality. Dre’s lyrics were raw and unapologetic, painting vivid pictures of life in South Central LA. Tracks like “Lil’ Ghetto Boy” and “The Day the Niggaz Took Over” were packed with unflinching accounts of poverty, gang violence, and systemic racism.

I couldn’t relate to the specifics of what Dre was describing—I didn’t know that world. But I connected to the tone. There was chaos in those songs, a sense of conflict and tension that mirrored what I was feeling in my own life at the time. My world may not have involved the streets of LA, but it was far from calm. There was plenty of turmoil in my own home and my own head, and in some way, The Chronic felt like it was speaking to that. It was raw, heavy, and unapologetic—exactly what I needed to hear, even if I didn’t realize it at the time.

And cutting through all that chaos was this voice, smooth and magnetic, like nothing I’d ever heard before. That voice belonged to Snoop Dogg.

Snoop was effortless. His flow, his charisma, the way he seemed to glide over Dre’s beats—it was unforgettable. On tracks like “Nuthin’ but a ‘G’ Thang” and “Dre Day,” Snoop brought a laid-back swagger that perfectly balanced Dre’s sharp, commanding energy. He wasn’t just rapping—he was storytelling, drawing you in with this cool confidence that made everything sound both natural and essential.

Hearing Snoop for the first time was like discovering a voice that would never leave my life. Over the years, Snoop has become a constant presence, whether through his solo albums, his movie appearances, or just his larger-than-life personality. To this day, he remains as cool and relevant as ever, and every time I hear him, I’m taken back to that spring in 1993, when he and Dre first introduced me to a world far outside Marion.

And then, in 2017, I saw Snoop at The Fillmore in San Francisco. I remember the distinct feeling of being exactly where I should be in that moment. The whole room was moving—everybody dancing and swaying, singing along to the songs that had been a part of my life for decades. It felt like home. That show was amazing, not just because Snoop still had that effortless charisma, but because it reminded me how deeply this music had embedded itself in my life. From that first time hearing The Chronic in a car in Iowa to standing in a packed, legendary venue in San Francisco, surrounded by people all feeling that same joy, it was proof that some connections never fade. See my Best Song Ever on Who Am I (What’s My Name)?

And then there was marijuana.

At 17, I had no connection to it. It wasn’t part of my life, my social circle, or even my imagination. But The Chronic made it impossible to ignore. With a marijuana leaf on the cover and its very title referring to high-quality weed, the album pulled no punches in embracing its identity.

Dre and Snoop didn’t just rap about marijuana—they built an entire vibe around it. The laid-back, hypnotic energy of the G-funk sound felt inseparable from the themes of getting high. Even though I didn’t fully understand it at the time, I couldn’t help but be drawn to the cool, relaxed confidence they exuded. They weren’t trying to sell me on it—they were just making it clear that it was a fundamental part of the world they were sharing.

What I didn’t know back then was how deeply ingrained cannabis would eventually become in my own life. Decades later, I would find myself living in California, immersed in a culture where cannabis wasn’t just a part of the conversation—it was the conversation. Whether it was through work, friendships, or simply being part of a state that embraced it, I’d develop a far deeper understanding of the plant and the community surrounding it. Listening to The Chronic now, with that perspective, I can see how foundational it was—not just to hip hop, but to how cannabis came to be viewed as a cultural force.

Looking back, I realize how much of The Chronic went over my head at the time. I didn’t catch all the slang, the deeper cultural references, or even some of the broader social and political themes embedded in the album. But none of that mattered. The music was so compelling, the storytelling so vivid, that I didn’t need to grasp every detail to feel its impact.

All these years later, The Chronic still pulls me back. Dre’s production still sounds immaculate, Snoop’s voice still makes me smile, and every time I hear those songs, I’m right back in 1993, sitting in a car, hearing a whole new world unfold through the speakers. Before that, music wasn’t just something I listened to—it was core to who I was. My identity was wrapped up in my Pearl Jam fandom, in the Seattle sound, in the emotional weight of grunge. But The Chronic forced me to see music differently. It wasn’t just about finding myself in the songs—it was about stepping into someone else’s world.

Purple Rain - Prince | 50 Albums in 50 Years Purple Rain, My Mother, and the Mythology of Minneapolis

2025-02-09T09:38:00.000-08:00

In 1984 I was living in Iowa but deeply connected to Minneapolis, MN. I was born there. My parents grew up there. We went there multiple times per year. I was a die-hard Minnesota Twins and Minnesota Vikings fan. Being associated with Minnesota and specifically, the Twin Cities, was core to my identity. My parents loved the Twin Cities and were always telling stories of their times there. There was a lot of myth and excitement around the Twin Cities. And central to this mythology for a certain period of time was Prince and his movie, album, and tour, Purple Rain. Prince and Purple Rain consumed me and my family for a period of time from 3rd to 5th grade.

My mom dug this album. My mom was a complicated human being full of... complications... including stories and myths around her time in Minneapolis growing up. One story I remember is that my mom went to "parties" where Prince was/played (?). I’m sure she saw him at First Avenue. That alone doesn’t put this album on my list. It’s an album that stuck with me and pokes up at various times in my life. I still find connection to many of the songs.

Prince was not just an artist in my house—he was a presence. My mom loved to sing and dance, and when Purple Rain came on, the living room turned into her stage. She would sing every word and dance with this unbridled joy, and in those moments, the music felt alive. It wasn’t just an album; it was a portal to her younger years, to her life in Minneapolis, to something freer and lighter than what I saw every day.

But there was another layer to it. By the time Purple Rain came out, my mom’s mental health was beginning to unravel. Watching her sing and dance to “Let’s Go Crazy,” there was this duality. The song was joyful and wild, but the words—“Let’s look for the purple banana ’til they put us in the truck”—felt like a warning of the chaos that was coming. My mom was going crazy, and we were all along for the ride. It was a soundtrack to a storm I couldn’t name yet.

I wasn’t allowed to listen to the entire album. Songs like “Darling Nikki” were off-limits, which, of course, made them even more fascinating. The mystery of what I couldn’t hear gave the album a provocative edge, like there were secrets woven into the tracks. Even the music video for “When Doves Cry” felt forbidden. Prince emerging naked from a bathtub with that intense look—it was mesmerizing and a little shocking for a kid. The whole album, from the visuals to the sound, felt like something more than music. It was an experience, a world Prince was inviting us into.

The music itself is what makes Purple Rain timeless. It doesn’t sound like typical pop music, even now. Each track is layered with emotion, experimentation, and Prince’s ability to blur genres into something uniquely his own. My favorite songs, in order, are “Let’s Go Crazy,” “Purple Rain,” “I Would Die 4 U,” “When Doves Cry,” “Darling Nikki,” and “Baby I’m a Star.” The bookends, “Let’s Go Crazy” and “Purple Rain,” hold emotional depth for me that has only grown with time.

“Let’s Go Crazy” is chaotic brilliance. The sermon-like intro feels like a call to arms, an invitation to live fully and recklessly. For my family, it felt prophetic. The energy of the song mirrored the whirlwind of my mom’s mental health, her highs and lows, her magnetism and unpredictability. “Purple Rain,” on the other hand, is a cathartic release. It’s a slow build into something transcendent, with Prince’s guitar solo cutting through everything like a cry from the soul. It’s the song I turn to when I need to feel something bigger than myself.

The other songs are provocative in their own ways. “I Would Die 4 U” is enigmatic and uplifting, a shimmering synth-driven anthem that feels like a spiritual declaration. “When Doves Cry” is raw and jagged, its lack of a bass line defying pop conventions while Prince’s vocals lay bare the pain of a fractured relationship. “Darling Nikki”—even without hearing it as a kid—carried an air of forbidden intrigue. The grinding rhythm and explicit lyrics make it one of the most daring tracks on the album. And then there’s “Baby I’m a Star,” a burst of confidence and joy that feels like the perfect celebration of Prince’s genius.

This album wasn’t just an important part of my childhood; it shaped how I understood music. Before Purple Rain, I was immersed in pure pop—fun, catchy, and surface-level. But this album introduced me to the idea that music could be art. It could provoke, challenge, and connect on deeper levels. Prince blurred the lines between genres, between joy and pain, between performance and vulnerability. Purple Rain taught me that music could be a world unto itself, and I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since.

Even as I’ve grown older, Purple Rain has remained a touchstone. I saw Pearl Jam play “Purple Rain” live in Minneapolis in 2023, and it felt like coming full circle. Hearing my favorite band cover this iconic song in the city where it was born was transcendent. And, when Ed sang the lyrics, "I never meant to cause you any sorrow. I never meant to cause you any pain. I only wanted one time to see you laughing. I only wanted to see you laughing in the purple rain." It really really hit me. It reminded me of the album’s power to connect people across time and space. It’s personal and universal, tied to my memories but also to a broader cultural legacy.

Prince and Purple Rain will always be a part of my story. It’s not just an album; it’s a link to my mom, to Minneapolis, to the mythologies that shaped my childhood. It’s a reminder of the joy, the chaos, and the beauty that music can hold. Even now, when I hear those opening chords of “Let’s Go Crazy” or the first strains of “Purple Rain,” I’m transported. I’m a kid in Iowa, standing in the living room, watching my mom dance, and feeling like I’m part of something much bigger than myself.

I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning - Bright Eyes | 50 Albums in 50 Years How Bright Eyes Gave Me the Words for What I Couldn’t Say

2025-02-08T16:10:00.000-08:00

“But me I'm a single cell on a serpents tongue. There's a muddy field where a garden was. And I'm glad you got away. But I'm still stuck out here. My clothes are soaking wet from your brothers tears.”

Back in 2005, 20 years ago this week, I was living in the Chicago area, about to finish a two-year MBA program at a top business school. Life was, on the surface, everything I’d dreamed it could be. I was about to graduate and start a fancy new job at a top consulting firm. For a kid who grew up in a family that lost their house and barely scraped by, this was the big time. I was set—or so I thought.

But despite all the shiny stuff happening in my life, I was drawn to I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning by Bright Eyes. I bought the CDs (remember those?) for both I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning and Digital Ash in a Digital Urn at the same time. They couldn’t have been more different. I’m Wide Awake was raw and folk-infused, while Digital Ash leaned into experimental, electronic textures. For me, though, I’m Wide Awake was the one that hit home, and I absolutely wore it out. It was on constant repeat through those bitter Chicago winters and humid summers. This wasn’t just music—it was like someone took everything I was feeling, put it into words, and set it to music. It hit me in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time.

This album lives in those gray spaces—the in-betweens, the contradictions, the unspoken truths we don’t always want to face. It’s about longing, messing up, rebelling, and just trying to get through. Looking back now, I get why it resonated so deeply.

Thing is, while I was living what looked like the best years of my life, there was a whole undercurrent I didn’t see clearly. I was working crazy hours at a top consulting firm, partying a lot, and self-medicating to deal with what I now know was undiagnosed depression and crushing anxiety, which were only getting worse the longer I stayed at the firm. The weight of the album wasn’t just relatable—it was my life. I wasn’t connecting with the world the way I wanted to, but this album gave me permission to feel that disconnect without judgment.

I am not going to go through the whole album, even though every song is a banger. Here are some highlights:

"At the Bottom of Everything"

This song opens with a weird, surreal spoken-word story about a doomed airplane, then crashes into an upbeat folk tune. The mix of absurdity and depth is wild. "We must take all of the medicines too expensive now to sell / Set fire to the preacher who is promising us Hell." That’s rebellion right there—burn it all down and start fresh.

But the line that really hits? "I’m happy just because I found out I am really no one." It’s a moment of freedom. Letting go of all the pressure to be someone amazing or achieve the impossible. For a guy about to jump headfirst into the corporate world, it was a quiet reminder to step back and just be.

"We Are Nowhere and It’s Now"

This one’s a punch in the gut. "If you hate the taste of wine, why do you drink it ‘til you’re blind?" It’s such a simple question, but it says so much about habits and self-sabotage. And then there’s this: "Why are you scared to dream of God? When it’s salvation that you want." That one gets me every time.

The song is full of these contradictions that just feel real. At 30, I didn’t have the words to describe what I wanted—freedom, connection, purpose? But this song seemed to know, even if I didn’t. And now, in my mid to late 40s, it resonates just as much, maybe even more. The existential questions, the longing, the contradictions—they’re timeless. They feel like they grow with you, reflecting new facets of life every time you listen.

"Lua"

This was the track that hooked me first. It’s raw and intimate, just Conor Oberst’s cracked voice and a guitar.

"What’s so easy in the evening by the morning’s such a drag." Yeah, that one cuts deep. It’s about those fleeting escapes, the harsh light of morning showing you everything you were trying to avoid. Listening to this back then was like looking in a mirror I wasn’t ready for. "And I know you have a heavy heart / I can feel it when we kiss." That’s a brutal kind of honesty. It’s not trying to fix anything or make it pretty—it’s just laying it bare. And then there’s this: "It’s not something I would recommend, but it is one way to live." That line is devastating in its simplicity. It doesn’t glamorize the struggle, but it acknowledges it in such a raw, unflinching way. Listening to this back then was like looking in a mirror I wasn’t ready for.

"Landlocked Blues"

This one feels like a conversation between two people who know it’s over but don’t want to say it out loud. "If you walk away, I’ll walk away." It’s heartbreaking, but there’s also this weird tenderness in it. They’re trying to make the ending as painless as possible, even though it’s anything but.

"If you love something, give it away." That lyric has stuck with me for years. It’s about letting go, not because you don’t care but because you care too much to hold on. The uncertainty of "I know I’m leaving but I don’t know where to" hits even harder now, because that’s how life feels sometimes—like you’re stepping into the unknown.

"Poison Oak"

If "Lua" cracked me open, "Poison Oak" completely broke me. This is the emotional heart of the album for me. The line "I don’t think that I ever loved you more / Than when you turned away, when you slammed the door" just destroys me. It’s about loving someone even when they’re at their worst, maybe even because of it.

I have this vivid memory of seeing Bright Eyes play this song at the Fillmore in 2013. It was one of those unforgettable concert moments where the connection between the artist, the audience, and the song was electric. Conor Oberst seemed to draw power from the crowd, and the crowd gave it right back. By the time we hit the line "I still believed in war," you could feel the intensity radiating through the room. People were screaming, singing, losing themselves in the moment. It was communal catharsis.

Now, this song makes me think of my mom. It’s her pain, her struggles, and how I’ve come to understand them as I’ve gotten older. "I’m glad you got away, but I’m still stuck out here." That line feels so personal, like it’s speaking directly to her survival and the grief I carry for everything she had to endure.

The imagery in this song—"a single cell, on a serpent’s tongue" or "there’s a muddy field where a garden was"—feels like a perfect encapsulation of carrying pain while still searching for beauty. And then there’s the "yellow bird," a symbol I’ve always thought of as a canary in a coal mine. It’s a warning, but it’s also hope. That duality is what makes this song so timeless and deeply personal for me. "I’m glad you got away, but I’m still stuck out here." That line feels so personal, like it’s speaking directly to her survival and the grief I carry for everything she had to endure. But, really that last line gets me. So much. “The sound of loneliness makes me happier.”

"Road to Joy"

This is how you close an album. "Let’s fuck it up, boys, make some noise!" It’s messy, loud, and unapologetic—everything I want to be when life gets too buttoned up. The song builds into this chaotic, cathartic release, refusing to wrap things up neatly.

"The sun came up with no conclusions / The flowers sleeping in their beds." That’s life, isn’t it? Beautiful and indifferent, just rolling on no matter what we’re doing. And then there’s the line: "No one ever plans to sleep out in the gutter / Sometimes that’s just the most comfortable place." That one hits me every time. It’s such a brutally honest acknowledgment of how life can push you into places you never intended to go, but sometimes, those places feel like the only option.

This song makes me want to move—physically, emotionally, creatively. It’s a reminder that it’s okay to fuck it up as long as you’re trying.

I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning wasn’t just an album for me. It gave me words for feelings I couldn’t articulate back then. It wasn’t grounding at all—it was emotional, raw, and deeply reflective. It opened up a space for me to feel everything I had been bottling up.

Looking back now, I see how much it shaped me. Its vulnerability gave me permission to be vulnerable. Its contradictions made space for my own. And its refusal to sugarcoat reality taught me there’s beauty in brokenness, meaning in the mess, and joy even when you’re not sure where the road is leading.

https://open.spotify.com/album/6MwSuZphL6GmuSVIYUGUF7?si=WEX9RaprTqG3WBojNguNAQ

Best Song Ever: Lithium - Nirvana

2025-02-01T13:53:00.000-08:00

"Yeah Yeah. Yeah Yeah. Yeah Yeah. Yeah Yeah. Yeah Yeah. Yeah Yeah. Yeah!"

TW: So, you can't talk about this song without talking about mental illness. Or, it seems inauthentic to do so. So, we're talking about mental illness.

So little is said, but so much is said when Kurt Cobain screams "Yeah" over and over again in Lithium. When I discovered this song on the Nevermind CD, I was blown away. It was about manic depression. It was specifically referencing taking lithium for that manic depression. My mom suffered from manic depression and was taking lithium for it and at the time as a 16 year old, I was pretty obsessed with this fact. I didn't know that other people knew what lithium was. But Kurt did. And in that I felt connected to him and this song. This song captures the extreme ups and downs of manic depression not just in the lyrics (which it does in spades), but in the flow of the song going between quiet and dirgey then loud and angry. He invokes god throughout the song as a last desperate cry for help for someone suffering from this disease. All of this just seems to capture manic depression in a nice little 3 minute pixies-punk song.

The song is technically about a man suffering from an emotional breakdown after the death of his girlfriend and he turns to religion to find peace and the ability to go on. Religion here acts as the emotional number that lithium provides the patient. Or at least according to Kurt and his biographer.

But in capturing the mental breakdown he captures the extremes of manic depression. Writing about mental illness wasn't new. Jimmy Hendrix famously said that manic depression is a frustrating mess. But this song captures the essences of manic depression. How it feels to the person experiencing it and the people around them.

Anyway, there is so much said when Kurt screams "Yeah" that brings it beyond mental illness and a nervous breakdown. That yeah is angst at its core. It's angst about something. It could be manic depression and having to take lithium. It could be feeling shunned by society. It could be lots of things that late stage teeneagers and early adults feel angst towards. But, its all captured in that "Yeah!" screamed over and over.

Give Up - The Postal Service | 50 albums in 50 years: The Album That Changed Everything for Me

2025-01-26T10:09:00.000-08:00

My sister came to visit me in San Francisco in the spring of 2003. One of the first things she did was hand me a burned copy of an album I had never heard of by a band I’d never heard of, formed by people I was generally not aware of, and said, “You must listen to this.” She mentioned that everyone in the music communities she hung out with was buzzing about it. And let’s face it—I was decidedly uncool and out of touch circa 2003. I was working 80-hour weeks as a management consultant, living what I’d call “corporate San Francisco,” not “cool San Francisco.”

My music listening habits hadn’t really evolved beyond what I listened to in high school and college: 50% Pearl Jam, 15% Counting Crows, 15% college rock from the ’80s, and 20% “adult alternative” music via the newly launched MusicMatch service. This wasn’t anywhere near the cutting edge of music culture. But my sister? She was the epitome of cool. She lived in Philly, worked at a museum, dabbled in bands, was an amateur poet, read all the right books, and knew about every underground music scene. If she said I had to listen to something, I listened.

So I popped the CD in. And I quickly fell in love with it.

It was like nothing I was listening to at the time. The album didn’t just sound different—it felt different. The beats, the synths, the way the electronic production intertwined with Ben Gibbard’s emotional vocals and Jenny Lewis’s harmonies—it was a revelation. I was used to guitars and drums delivering the emotional punch of a song, but here, Jimmy Tamborello’s electronic production created that heaviness. It was a new language for music, one I hadn’t realized I needed to learn.

This was Give Up by The Postal Service, and it changed everything for me.

The Context of 2003: The Indie Rock Explosion

To really appreciate Give Up, you have to understand where music was in 2003. This was the cusp of what I think of as the commercial prominence of indie music. Sure, indie rock had existed for decades, but it hadn’t yet crossed over to the mainstream in a big way. That was starting to change, and Give Up was one of the albums leading the charge.

By 2003, pop culture was still dominated by pop-punk, nu-metal, and the remnants of late-’90s boy bands. There was a clear divide between mainstream music and the indie/underground scene. But Give Up blurred those lines. It brought the emotional depth and authenticity of indie rock into a package that was sonically fresh and accessible. This wasn’t just another guitar-driven record. It was a fusion of LA’s polished electronic music and the Pacific Northwest’s raw, introspective indie rock, a combination that felt groundbreaking.

And it wasn’t just me who felt that way. The album became a cultural phenomenon, with songs like “Such Great Heights” popping up everywhere—from commercials to TV shows to movie soundtracks. This was one of the moments when indie music truly began to seep into the mainstream consciousness.

A Sound Unlike Anything Else

At the time, my musical world was pretty narrow. I wasn’t listening to Death Cab for Cutie or any of the artists connected to this album. My playlist was a lot of Pearl Jam, some Counting Crows, and a mix of nostalgic college rock and whatever was new on “adult alternative” playlists. Give Up didn’t sound like any of that. It was electronic but emotionally raw, polished but deeply human. It opened my ears to what music could sound like and what it could make me feel.

Take “The District Sleeps Alone Tonight,” for example. From the deep synth drone that opens the song to the 808 beats that emphasize every emotional note, it was like nothing I’d heard before. The detailed lyrics painted a vivid picture of heartbreak, alienation, and self-awareness, but it was the interplay between the electronic production and the vocals that gave the song its emotional punch. It was the perfect entry point into this new sonic world.

A Foundational Album

Give Up wasn’t just an album I enjoyed—it was foundational. It completely shifted my perspective on what music that resonated with me could sound like. It led me straight to Death Cab for Cutie (who I hadn’t listened to before), and from there, to a whole universe of indie music. The Shins, Modest Mouse, Bright Eyes, Built to Spill—this was the beginning of my indie era. And it all started with one burned CD my sister handed me in 2003.

The songs on Give Up became touchstones for me. “Such Great Heights” was a declaration of perfect love, capturing the kind of connection I longed for, where two people are so perfectly aligned they might as well have been molded by the universe for each other. “Nothing Better” was the gut-wrenching duet about a breakup, a conversation between one person desperate to hold on and the other ready to let go. Then there was “This Place Is a Prison,” which spoke to the emptiness of the party scene—a stark mirror to my own Jack-and-Coke-fueled nights in 2003.

Each song brought something new to the table, whether it was the meditative flow of “Recycled Air” or the idealistic hope of “Brand New Colony.” Even Natural Anthem, though it didn’t resonate as deeply with me emotionally, made its mark with its anthemic, boundary-pushing sound.

Over 20 Years Later

Now, more than 20 years later, Give Up remains one of my go-to albums. It’s not just a nostalgic listen—it’s an album I continue to discover. Every time I revisit it, I hear something new, whether it’s a detail in the production or a lyric that resonates differently as my life evolves. In fact, I recently wrote about the opening song in one of my Best Song Ever posts.

In some ways, it’s even more meaningful now. Songs like “We Will Become Silhouettes” took on new weight during the pandemic, when lines like “I’m not coming out until this is all over” felt chillingly real. And “Nothing Better” became a mirror for my own reflections on love and loss.

This album didn’t just open up the indie world to me—it gave me a new lens through which to see myself, my relationships, and the power of music. It’s one of those rare records that isn’t tied to just one moment in my life—it’s grown with me, offering something new at every stage.

So here I am, over two decades later, still finding comfort, catharsis, and inspiration in Give Up. My sister was right: I had to listen to this. And I’ll keep listening for the rest of my life.

Paul's Boutique - Beastie Boys | 50 albums in 50 years: The Soundtrack to My Musical Awakening (top 50 albums from my 50 years of life)

2025-01-15T06:21:00.000-08:00

"Got more rhymes than jamaica got mangoes"

I look at my musical growth in distinct phases: my kid phase, my teen phase, and my adult phases. All of these phases are marked by albums that defined a transition. My kid phase starts with the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack (which I wrote about last week), my teen phase begins with Paul’s Boutique, and my adult/indie phase begins with next week’s album, Give Up by The Postal Service. These albums didn’t just change the way I listened to music—they changed how I saw myself and the world.

I was an 8th grader in Iowa when the Beastie Boys released Paul’s Boutique, and to say it blew my mind and changed how I thought about music is an understatement. It wasn’t just an album; it was an education, a revelation, and an invitation to explore a world far bigger than my own. Until that point, my musical tastes had been rooted in pop or pop-adjacent music. I’d been prepared for Paul’s Boutique to be a continuation of Licensed to Ill, an album I’d listened to obsessively from 5th to 8th grade. Licensed to Ill was, up to that point, probably my favorite album of all time. It was loud, rebellious, and funny—everything a middle school boy would love. Songs like “Hold It Now, Hit It” and “Paul Revere” were anthems of youthful energy, brimming with big beats, brash humor, and a sense of adventure that made every listen feel like a ride. The Beastie Boys weren’t just musicians—they were characters, larger-than-life figures who made music feel like mischief.

So when Paul’s Boutique dropped, I expected more of the same. What I got instead was something entirely different, something so ambitious and strange that it shook me to my core. This wasn’t just a continuation of the Beastie Boys’ sound; it was a complete reinvention. From the first spin, it was clear I was hearing something new—a layered, kaleidoscopic masterpiece that sounded like nothing else. It wasn’t just a collection of songs; it was an experience, a collage of sound and storytelling that pushed the boundaries of what music could be. It opened my eyes to a world of possibilities, teaching me not only about music but about art itself.

It also taught me what cool was. I didn’t know what it meant to be cool, not really—not as an 8th grader in Iowa. But Paul’s Boutique showed me. Cool wasn’t just about the music you listened to; it was about how you carried yourself, how you saw the world, how you found humor in absurdity and embraced the unexpected. The Beastie Boys weren’t trying to be cool in the obvious way. They weren’t posturing or following trends—they were creating something so uniquely their own that it was undeniable. They had the confidence to mix high and low, to weave Isaac Newton into the same verse as a Range Rover, and to make it all feel natural. Listening to this album, I didn’t just hear cool—I felt it. And I wanted to be a part of it.

At the heart of Paul’s Boutique is its groundbreaking production, helmed by the Dust Brothers. The album famously incorporates over 100 samples, pulling from funk, soul, rock, disco, and even the Beatles. The sheer scope of the production is staggering—songs like “Shake Your Rump” and “The Sounds of Science” feel like treasure maps, each layer revealing something new. At the time, I didn’t know the technicalities of sampling or production, but I felt the magic. It was alive, vibrant, and endlessly fascinating.

And that’s true—I didn’t know who the Dust Brothers were back then, nor would I have appreciated their genius if I had. All I knew was how the music made me feel. The samples weren’t just beats—they were entire worlds woven together into something that felt bigger than the sum of its parts. Listening to Paul’s Boutique was like stepping into a kaleidoscope: every sound, every lyric, every tiny detail seemed to shift and evolve with each listen. It was dense and layered in a way that demanded your attention. Even if I couldn’t name the artists being sampled, I could feel their presence, like ghosts haunting the edges of the music.

What’s remarkable is how this production turned the act of listening into an active experience. The album wasn’t just something you put on in the background—it was something you immersed yourself in, like a puzzle you wanted to solve. The interplay of samples created textures I didn’t know music could have, and the way they flowed seamlessly into each other felt like magic. It made me realize that music wasn’t just about what you heard—it was about what you felt, what you discovered, and how it changed you.

What made Paul’s Boutique even more remarkable was the musical landscape it entered. Hip-hop in the late 1980s was still finding its voice. Artists like Run-D.M.C., Public Enemy, and N.W.A. were defining the genre with powerful beats and socially charged lyrics, while rock music leaned into hair metal and the polished sounds of arena bands. Creativity was often measured by volume and bravado, and Paul’s Boutique arrived like a bolt of lightning—quirky, dense, and unapologetically experimental. It wasn’t an instant hit; in fact, it was considered a commercial failure upon release. Critics and fans, expecting another Licensed to Ill, didn’t know what to make of its wild ambition and intricate production. But over time, the album’s genius was recognized, and it became a critical darling, now regarded as one of the most influential hip-hop albums of all time.

For me, it was the Beastie Boys’ humor and intelligence that drew me in. Paul’s Boutique was packed with characters, stories, and references that felt like an inside joke I couldn’t wait to figure out. Songs like “Johnny Ryall” and “High Plains Drifter” were cinematic in their scope, painting vivid pictures of outlaws, hustlers, and misfits. “Shadrach” took it further, blending biblical imagery with cultural commentary in a way that felt both profound and playful. The lyrics were absurd, clever, and completely unpredictable, showing me that music didn’t have to follow any rules.

And then there was New York. The city was practically another character in the album, woven into its DNA through references, sounds, and attitude. As a kid in Iowa, the idea of New York felt as distant as another planet, but Paul’s Boutique brought it to life. It was chaotic, vibrant, and full of possibilities—a place where anything could happen. My love of New York starts with this album, with the way it made the city feel like a mythical place where art and life collided in the best possible way.

Paul’s Boutique didn’t just change how I listened to music—it changed how I saw the world. It taught me to embrace creativity, to seek out the strange and unexpected, and to find beauty in chaos. It showed me that music could be art, that humor could coexist with depth, and that rules were meant to be broken. It’s an album that has stayed with me, not just as a favorite but as a touchstone, a reminder of the moment my perspective shifted forever. More than anything, it taught me what cool really meant—and how to chase it, not by imitating others, but by finding my own way.

Saturday Night Fever SoundTrack - Various Artists (mostly the Bee Gees) | 50 albums from 50 years: How a Disco Soundtrack Became a Lifeline for Connection, Joy, and Belonging

2025-01-06T16:44:00.000-08:00

The Saturday Night Fever soundtrack came out in 1977 and pretty much became the sound of escape for a lot of people dealing with the mess of the late '70s. The economy was rough, inflation was out of control, and there was this overall sense of disillusionment hanging in the air. People were waiting in long gas lines, dealing with unemployment, and still feeling the aftershocks of the Vietnam War. And then here comes disco—bright, bold, and unapologetically fun—giving everyone a chance to just forget about life for a while.

But disco wasn’t just about escaping. It was a lifeline for anyone who felt like they didn’t fit in. It welcomed the outcasts, the misfits, the people who didn’t feel at home anywhere else. The Saturday Night Fever album, with those Bee Gees harmonies and thumping basslines, captured all of that perfectly. It wasn’t just music—it was a vibe, a community, a celebration of being unapologetically yourself.

For me, the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack is way more personal than just a disco classic. Some of my earliest memories are tied to this album—dancing around the living room with my mom when I was just a toddler. I can’t remember the specifics, but I can still feel it, you know? That warm, safe feeling, like those moments are etched into me. Every time I hear "Stayin’ Alive" or "How Deep Is Your Love," it’s like I’m transported back to those blurry, beautiful memories with her.

My mom was really young then—a teenage mom figuring it all out while raising me. My dad was gone a lot, traveling for work, so it was just the two of us most of the time. I didn’t understand it as a kid, but now I realize how lonely she must’ve been. She spent her whole life feeling like an outsider, and I think she found something in disco that made her feel seen, even if she wasn’t out at the clubs. The music made her feel part of something bigger—like she belonged.

I can picture her now, turning up the music and dancing around the living room with me in her arms. Maybe swaying to "How Deep Is Your Love" or spinning us around to the faster tracks, the kind of moments where time slows down and it’s just joy. She’d be wearing her favorite corduroy pants, the ones she always seemed to have on, and the smell of Hamburger Helper simmering in the kitchen would fill the air. For her, those moments of dancing weren’t just fun—they were a way to cope, to feel alive, and maybe even to forget for a bit how overwhelming life could be.

Disco gave her an escape and maybe a little bit of freedom, too. The way it embraced everyone, especially people who felt like they didn’t fit, must’ve resonated deeply with her. Even though she wasn’t out at Studio 54, she still had the music, and that was enough to make her feel connected to the world in a way she probably didn’t most of the time.

For me, those moments of dancing with her shaped my connection to this music. Even now, when I hear the songs from Saturday Night Fever, I can’t help but move the way she used to. It’s like those movements have stayed with me all these years, passed down through the beat of the music. The opening notes of "Stayin’ Alive" come on, and I’m instantly back there, feeling that connection to her, to those moments of pure joy we shared.

The love songs hit differently now, too—tracks like "How Deep Is Your Love" or "If I Can’t Have You" make me think of her holding me close, finding comfort in the music. She must’ve felt the weight of everything on her shoulders, but in those quiet, shared moments, there was something magical. Even if I didn’t understand it then, I can feel it now.

The Saturday Night Fever soundtrack isn’t just a collection of disco hits to me. It’s the soundtrack to my earliest memories with my mom—a young woman who, even with all her struggles, found a way to create moments of joy for the two of us. Whenever I put the album on now, I feel that same warmth and comfort I imagine she felt back then. It’s a reminder of how powerful music can be, how it can bring people together, help us heal, and make us feel like we belong—even in the toughest times.

Monthly Music Fix 2024 03 | A curated list of ten (10) newish songs with song meanings and descriptions

2025-01-05T13:03:00.000-08:00

“All in good time, I gave it my best. I was alone 'til I found myself. Grew up to be a man more or less. All in good time. All in good time, I drifted away. I ran my mouth 'til I'd nothing to say. You broke my heart, then I was okay. All in good time.”

There is so much good music coming out in 2024. I can’t even keep track of it all. I am for sure missing awesomeness. But, I am hearing lots of things I love and dig and most of all, it all sounds amazing. Should we take a moment and appreciate that production capabilities of producers and sound engineers nowadays. The music, vocals, and arrangements sound amazing. The production value is really top notch.

All in Good Time - Iron & Wine, Fiona Apple

Iron & Wine, the moniker of singer-songwriter Sam Beam, crafts an intricate tapestry of sound characterized by whispery, tender vocals that seem to float on a breeze of intimate storytelling. His lyrics, rich in poetic imagery and evocative of deep, often introspective themes, invite listeners into a carefully constructed world where every word carries weight. The overall tone of Iron & Wine's music is one of melancholic beauty, blending folk's acoustic simplicity with a depth of emotion that resonates long after the last chord fades.

This song should be nominated for a Grammy and played at the Grammy’s. Its that good. Fiona’s vocals on this song are killer. Sam Beam’s aged and tender voice mixes so well with Fiona’s. The lyrics reflect the end of a long, hard fought relationship and all that goes with that. They come together and they come apart throughout the song. I suppose thats how long relationships last and then vanish. All in good time.

365 - Waxahatchee

I’ve been a fan of Waxahatchee since American Weekend came out in 2012. "American Weekend" stands as a monument to the raw, unfiltered essence of lo-fi indie music, its sparse arrangements and acoustic simplicity echoing the intimate bedroom recordings of yesteryear. Its unvarnished sound, reminiscent of the boombox recordings by John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats, adds a layer of authenticity and earnestness that's both vulnerable and compelling. Katie Crutchfield's introspective songwriting and candid vocal delivery on this album create a personal narrative that's as haunting as it is beautiful, capturing the listener with its minimalist approach.

This is Katie processing a rough relationship. I think the notion of 365 days is how long since the relationship ended or began to end. And now they are sitting at the end of the year and Katie is processing all that was the relationship. The relationship was exhausting. It was uncomfortable. It was not a fun relationship. But the narrator stuck with it to save the other person. That never works.

“Three-hundred and sixty-five days. Tell me you're a wounded soldier. Ya ain't had much luck but grace is. In the eye of the beholder. I had my own ideas but. I carried you on my shoulders anyways, ooh. And I stopped picking up all your phone calls. Take a shot at decency. If i heard your voice on the other line. Unceremoniously. The shadows of a lie or a state of emergency. I've been run down, ooh.”

Midwest - Vacations

Vacations, an Australian indie band, crafts a sun-drenched blend of dream-pop, jangle pop, and lo-fi indie rock, marked by jangly guitars and smooth, ethereal vocals. Their music offers a nostalgic yet fresh sound, rich with themes of love, loss, and introspection, set against an irresistibly groovy backdrop. This juxtaposition of upbeat melodies with contemplative lyrics positions them as a notable presence in the indie scene, inviting listeners into a reflective, yet vibrant musical experience.

I’ve been hearing this song a lot on XMU on SiriusXM. Its about a relationship that is coming to an end. And the narrator doesn’t want it to end. So, he is reminding his current and soon to be ex lover that he wants to keep the relationship going.

“We're starting at the finish line. Turn away, say otherwise. You're always on my mind. 'Cause I miss you. As I don't want you to go.”

Sadie - Got Babe

Goth Babe, the project of musician Griffin Washburn, encapsulates the quintessential indie vibe with a unique blend of lo-fi surf rock, dream pop, and electronic elements, creating a sound that's both ethereal and grounding. His music is heavily influenced by the laid-back lifestyle of the Pacific Northwest and California, where the natural landscapes—from misty forests to sunlit beaches—seep into his melodies, rhythms, and lyrical themes. Washburn's DIY ethos and love for the outdoors are reflected in his production style, merging a sense of wanderlust with introspective lyrics, making Goth Babe's sound a tranquil soundtrack for both adventure and contemplation.

Another song I’ve been hearing a lot on XMU. This song is about his dog missing him and he is missing his dog while he is traveling on tour.

“My Sadie's at home. I've only got a few days to go. Her father's alone. I'm coming home, I hope that you've been. Sweet, run around. And please, run around.”

Light On - Dehd

Dehd, hailing from the vibrant music scene of Chicago, embodies a raw and compelling fusion of post-punk and garage rock, marked by an unmistakable groove that's both minimalist and infectious. The band's dynamic is significantly shaped by the interplay between the distinct vocals of Emily Kempf and Jason Balla, whose exchanges range from harmonious blends to spirited call-and-response, adding a layer of emotional depth and complexity to their sound. This vocal interplay, combined with their gritty, lo-fi aesthetic, crafts a sound that's as much about the energy and tension between the members as it is about their shared musical journey, encapsulating the essence of their Chicago roots with a universal appeal.

This song just grooves. I love the surf rock vibe. I love how you want to move and bounce while listening to this song.

“Every day, every night, I will leave a light on. What you want, what you need, it won't be a problem. Where you at-at-at? Let me know, I'll follow. Every day, every night, I will leave a light on. What you want, what you need, I won't be a problem. When you knock-knock-knock, babe, it ain't no bother.”

Love Of A Girl - Avett Brothers

The Avett Brothers, formed by siblings Scott and Seth Avett along with Bob Crawford and Joe Kwon, hail from Concord, North Carolina, and have carved a distinctive niche in the American folk-rock and bluegrass scene. Known for their harmonious blend of country, bluegrass, punk, pop melodies, and heartfelt lyrics, the band's sound is a reflection of their diverse influences and Southern roots. Their energetic live performances and authentic storytelling have endeared them to a wide audience, showcasing a musical brotherhood that transcends genres. And, they are back.

This is a fun little song with speedy vocals describing all the thing that we all do for the love of a girl.

“I got regret, soul debt. Gotta get one hit. Sunlit, unfit. Still owe my alma matter. Nightmare, slow throwin'. Haymakers underwater. Gotta get my hair right. Love you, goodnight. Gotta get cleaned up. Pressed up, dressed up. Sun down comes around. Find me with my head down. Toes turned in with my hands in my pockets. Like a present day. Hesitatin' Huckleberry Finn.”

Nostalgia - Yot Club

Yot Club, the indie project known for its dreamy, lo-fi bedroom pop sound, characterized by catchy melodies, laid-back vocals, and a DIY aesthetic that captures the essence of youthful nostalgia and introspection, is a favorite of mine. I’ve been sharing their music since I discovered them a couple of years ago.

This song is about the feeling that nostalgia can provide balanced by the fact that nostalgia is generally considered not cool in indie circles.

“Nostalgia, it follows you. I never meant to let that feeling go. Thoughts are gone, insomnia. I never meant to learn the hard way.”

Running -Pearl Jam

Pearl Jam is about to release their twelfth studio album. Its apparently full of rockers that give the sense of a return to the days of ten. I for one loved Gigaton and I think its my favorite late stage Pearl Jam record. But, I am looking forward to this new album.

This rocker from Pearl Jam…well it rocks. I love the fast paced nature of the song that conveys an unrelenting urgency. Hence, running.

“Dictator, love hater. Lost in the tunnel and the tunnel ain’t no fun. Now I'm lost in all the shit you're flushing. Victrola, controller. Lost in the tunnel and the tunnel's getting funneled. Likе the sewage in thе plumbing. 'Cause we left the fucking water running.”

Loud Bark - Mannequin Pussy

Mannequin Pussy, hailing from Philadelphia, navigates the sonic landscapes of punk, shoegaze, and indie rock with an explosive yet nuanced energy. Fronted by Marisa Dabice, the band's sound is defined by its dynamic shifts—from aggressive, in-your-face punk anthems to delicate, introspective melodies—showcasing their versatility and emotional depth. Their raw, candid lyrics, paired with the band's intense live performances, create a visceral experience that captures the complexities of human emotions and relationships.

I love how she screams. I love the energy. I love the way this song sounds. I love the build. I love the emotion. So much goodness in this song.

“Not a single motherfucker who has tried to lock me up. Could get the collar round my neck. Or find one that's big enough. I’m a waste of a woman. But I taste like success. I keep all of my sugar where I know you like it best.”

Sadness As A Gift - Adrianne Lenker

Adrianne Lenker, the lead singer for Big Thief has released an excellent solo album that I am just now processing. This is for sure the hit from the album. Its an excellent song about learning to embrace the sadness that you experience.

The lyrics convey themes of acceptance and healing from a romantic separation. Hoping that someday you will be able to get back in contact with this person and see the sadness of your separation as a “gift” instead of a burden, appreciating that it shows the amount of love and devotion that was put into that relationship.

Even still, the sadness would feel too heavy to hold, too heavy to keep with you– as stated later in the song.

“Leaning on the windowsill. You could write me someday, and I think you will. We could see the sadness as a gift and still. Feel too heavy to hold.
Snow fallin'. I try to keep from callin'. Watch the spring turn to winter. Fireflies all frozen.”

Bonus Tracks

Dream Job - Yard Act

Broken Man - St. Vincent

Check out the playlist below and the Apple Music Playlist Here

Monthly Music Fix 2024 02 | Curated list of new music from early 2024

2025-01-05T10:45:00.000-08:00

“I used to wake and bake. Roll out of bed, hit the gravity bong that I made. And start the day. For a while it got me by. Eveything I did, seemed better when I was high. I don’t know why. So, I’m gettin’ rid of the habits that I feel are real good at wastin my time. No regrets baby. I just think that maybe; its natural when things lose their shine. So other things can glow. I’ve gotten older now I know. How to take care of myself. I’ve found a deeper well.”

I continue to find music that I am super into

Deeper Well - Kacey Musgraves

This is my healing song of 2024. I’ve long been a fan of Kacey Musgraves. I love the simplicity and directness of the lyrics in this song. She is breaking up with the people, places, and things that are a waste of her time. She’s found a deeper well. Its worth noting that she starts off the song with, “My saturn has returned.” Your saturn returning is all about you growing up. And I can feel that line, “when I turned 27 everything started to change.” And, I love how she starts off the song with her focusing on recovering from her breakup and the peace that she has with it. And then of course, there is the verse about moving on from weed as a coping mechanism. I am not sure I will connect moreso with lyrics in 2024 than I do with, “For a while it got me by. Eveything I did, seemed better when I was high. I don’t know why.” After all, its natural when things lose their shine… “and I’ve gotten older now I know, how to take care of myself.” I love how she comes to peace with her upbringing. Its all a journey right?

POP POP POP - IDLES

Oh boy. I am so excited about seeing this band live. Are they most exciting live band out there right now? Maybe. This is about a being a positive, uplifting person and that being your super power. Who says I don’t love uplifting and positive music. It’s dancey; you’ll want to move listening to this song.

“Freudenfreude. Joy on joy (joy on joy). Cheerleader. Happy boy (happy boy). Strong like bull. Vu-vu-vulnerable (vulnerable). Keep my people up. That's my tool.”

Capricorn - Vampire Weekend

I dig this super chill Vampire Weekend song. This is about persevering in life even in the face of deep uncertainty. And being caught in the middle of everything.

“I know you’re tired or tryin’; listen clearly you don’t have to try.”

Stop Giving Me Advice - Jack Harlow, Lyrical Lemonade, Mike

I am listening to more pure pop music lately and I am digging it. And, I love seeing artists I’ve supported (on this track, Mike), making appearances with pop stars. The flow. The production. The groove. Everything. This song just sounds great. And its got that braggadocio confidence that I love in poppy hip hop.

“I know you feel love, feel shame, feel pride. I can see it in your eyes. I met a fan at work, he told me it's his job on the side. As if I'm unimpressed by his every day life.”

Dark Matter - Pearl Jam

This song is getting a ton of alt rock play. I am psyched. They are saying its maybe a sound similar to the Ten days. I think it sounds like mid state Pearl Jam (the Avacado album) mixed with Soundgarden, specifically the drums. It sounds like Matt Fucking Cameron totally showed up to this song. And it rocks. I think it captures the confusing and frustrating world we live in right now.

“It's strange these days. When everybody else pays. For someone else's mistake. This blame takes shape. Still everybody else pays. For someone else's mistake.”

Shaking Their Hands - SPRINTS

I got introduced to this band recently and I am a fan. I was supposed to see them live, but due to scheduling challenges I couldn’t make it. SPRINTS, hailing from the vibrant heart of Dublin, Ireland, are a force to be reckoned with on the contemporary punk scene. Born out of the city's rich tapestry of music and culture, this dynamic band embodies the raw energy and impassioned ethos that Dublin's music scene is renowned for. Known for their electrifying performances and fiercely honest lyrics, SPRINTS offer a fresh, adrenaline-fueled take on punk that captures the spirit of rebellion and resilience. Their music, a potent blend of gritty guitar riffs and relentless rhythms, resonates with an authenticity and fervor that is both inspiring and invigorating.

This song is so full angst. Angst about life. About a life dealt to you, the consequences of how you react to the life dealt to you, and the compromises you need to make it through.

“It's been a long day. It's been a long night. It's been a long life. And I'm counting the minutes 'til the clock strikes six. I'm counting the minutes 'til the ceiling hits. I'm counting the days.”

Suicidal Tendencies - Angry Blackmen

This music demands you listen to it. I love so much about this band, this album, this song. I love the realness. I love the glitchy production that creates a spastic and anxious vibe over the emo heavy lyrics.

“Suicidal tendencies. I had to get my mind right. You can see the pain. When you starring deep in my eyes. ****** say I changed. But they hating on the sidelines. Trying to maintain. My depression on a fine line. Looking back in hindsight, they ain’t see the vision yet. A bunch of cracker kids hype our music on the internet. My mom smoking cigarettes, told her ass she gotta quit. Ciggy only way she fight the demons that she dealing with.”

Don’t Forget Me - Maggie Rogers

Digging Maggie Rogers. I love the duet she did with Zach Bryan and this is just great indie pop. I love how she sounds and I dig the flow of this song. Its about growing up or feeling you need to grow up and others are already grown up around you. And wanting a partner to help you figure out that growing up and how transient those relationships can seem.

“My friend Sally's getting married. And to me that sounds so scary. I'm still tryin' to clean up my side of the street. Can't imagine what would happen. 'Cause I'm still acting out of habit. Hoping dirty words just don't escape my teeth.”

The Bell - Ty Segall

Ty Segall, a multi-instrumentalist hailing from California, has cemented himself as a pivotal figure in the modern psych-rock revival. With a prolific output that spans across a dizzying array of albums, Segall's work is a kaleidoscopic journey through the realms of garage rock, fused with the expansive, mind-bending essence of psychedelic rock. His music, characterized by fuzzy guitars, experimental arrangements, and an unbridled spirit of innovation, captures the essence of psych-rock's golden era while injecting it with a raw, contemporary edge. Segall's dedication to pushing the boundaries of the genre, combined with his unique blend of psychedelic fervor and garage rock grit, makes him a torchbearer for the psychedelic rock movement,

This is really part of an album that you need to listen to as an album to appreciate it. So, make sure to check out Ty Segall’s Three Bells. It sounds amazing. And if you’re into psyche rock you’ll dig this whole groove. The topic is really about exploring yourself and your mind. And its full of lots of random thoughts about this exploration.

“Walk in lines, they form a circle. The destination is where you have been. Your three bells, one's outside.”

Pixel - Yot Club

I really dig the sound of Yot Club, emerging from the sun-soaked landscapes of Jackson, Mississippi, brings a refreshing burst of indie pop to the music scene with their distinctive blend of laid-back vibes and unique vocal stylings. The brainchild of multi-instrumentalist Ryan Kaiser, Yot Club's sound is characterized by its effortless melding of dreamy melodies, jangly guitars, and Kaiser's uniquely tender vocal delivery that effortlessly floats atop their music, inviting listeners into a world of introspective joy and melodic bliss. This inventive use of vocals, paired with their knack for crafting infectious tunes, sets Yot Club apart, making them a fascinating act within the indie genre. Their music resonates with a sense of warmth and sincerity, capturing the essence of their Southern roots while charting a course through the expansive universe of indie pop with originality and grace.

This song ponders how small we are (the size of a pixel in the vastness of the internet). But, it sounds great. I love the vocals.

“This technology makes me so aware of how. Small I am. I see the world in such a way that was not meant. For any man, no.”

Bonus Tracks:

Can’t Believe We’re Here - J Mascis

“Can we back up strong. I don’t wanna fight it. Will I end up wrong. Not sure what the point is. Get up every day and try. Dream a home on some side. Try to patch this hole inside. So I can tell you where I’ll find.”

Fall Back - Pt. 2 / Endel Focus Soundscape - James Blake

A little EDM for your pleasure.

Somebody New - Real Estate

Also, really digging that Real Estate album for some easy going indie.

Wall of Eyes - The Smile

Another from the excellent album by The Smile.

Void - Ty Segall

Another from that great Ty Segall album.

Here is the Apple Playlist link

Best Song Ever - Mr. Jones - Counting Crows

2024-06-06T09:47:00.000-07:00

“I wanna be bob dylan. Mr. Jones wishes he was someone just a little more funky. Well man, when everybody loves you, sometimes, thats just about as fucked up as you can be.”

Author’s note: I originally posted this on Facebook in 2021 before I started posting on my blog or on substack. So I am reposting here without editing. Enjoy.

I’ve talked and written about this song and specifically this version of this song since it was released (circa 1998). There a lot that is going on here and this version of the song conveys so much emotion and so much of what the song is trying to get across that once I heard this version, I was in love. I wrote an entire essay for business school about this song and what it meant to me.

I’m going into this discussion assuming you’re familiar with the super popular, fast version of Mr. Jones. I’ll post a version in the comments in case you don’t have it easily accessible. It’s important to have the context of the original version, because Adam makes some very specific and notable adjustments to the original arrangement based on where his headspace is when he recorded this version. And, you need to know the original to appreciate the choices Adam (and the CC band more broadly) make.

From the very beginning the tone of the song is totally different. A jangly guitar is replaced by an acoustic guitar and…an accordion. And, rather than the happy and up beat scatting, there is a pre-song tag about being a rock n roll star (byrds cover). This is super poignant because the song he is about to sing about his dreams of wanting to be a rock n roll star and while the original had a happy version of stardom, this newer take is cynical and dark. You know immediately that this will be a darker take on an upbeat song. Not just any song, but their most popular song and the song that broke things for them. Imagine that you loved that happy version of the song and Adam shows up and sings this version. After achieving his dreams, and in fact, this version was put together at the height of Counting Crows rock stardom. He has achieve all his goals, yet he is unhappy and considers reaching his dreams something that anyone who can pick up a guitar and learn to how to play can achieve. And we haven’t even gotten to the actual song yet. But, context for this song is everything.

Now we enter the song and within the first verse, Adam is making choices about the words he sings and how he sings them. In the original, “I wish i was beautiful,” is almost rushed through, whereas in this version, its the point. This is a man who (when this song was recorded) had dated two Friend’s stars in the span of a two years wishes he was more beautiful. He has achieved the dreams in this song. He has dated Hollywood A list stars. And he still wishes he was more beautiful. Because, as he conveys numerous times in the song, he is still lonely. So, so lonely.

In fact, another distinctive choice Adam makes here is how he how approaches reaching his dreams and the loneliness he feels. In the original he makes the assumption that achieving his dreams will solve his problem of being alone. In the new version of the song, its clear the process of reaching your dreams only exasperates the negative feelings you’ve been feeling all along.

This new version and its differences from the original come to a head towards the end. While in the original Adam asks everyone listening to believe in him, he is now explicitly saying that you should NOT believe in him. This is followed by another complete reversal in the song and really the highlight of the new version. Adam still wants to be bob dylan. Rather than beating around the bush, he completely contradicts the original by stating that when everybody loves you it just fucks you up. And in extension reaching your dreams can in fact fuck you up for lots of reasons that we can talk about later. He then goes totally off script and tags another his songs that is about his disappointment with reaching his dreams. And, how awful that feels to him. And how it is has just caused despair, depression, agoraphobia, and a host of other ailments.

It’s clear why this song resonates with me and so many other people. It’s clear why this version in particular resonates with so many people. Adam is for sure talking explicitly about his specific dream of being a rock star and in the new version, how disappointed he is with the experience so far. Lots of people set goals and reach them or have dreams that come true. And, sometimes when that happens it doesn’t feel as great as you thought it was going to be. You gotta focus on the journey; not the end result.

Monthly Music Fix 2024 01 | A curated list of 10 newish songs to get you going in your month

2024-05-31T12:51:00.000-07:00

“Fuck the king! He ain't the king, she's the !”

Kicking off 2024 with some great new music that spans from pop to classic indie bands to new indie bands. Its probably one of the best sounding playlists I’ve put together. All these songs just sound excellent. There isn’t really anything jarring and they are all for the most part great dinner party music (even IDLES). I say this because I am pretty sure next month’s playlist will be more full of jarring music that demand your attention. This on the other hand is full of music you can just play in the background.

Gift Horse - IDLES

IDLES, the Bristol-born beacon of punk defiance, delivers more than just music; they unleash a cultural torrent with each performance. At the helm is Joe Talbot, whose talk-sing vocal style cuts through the noise with raw, unvarnished truths about resilience and defiance. The band's lineup features the compelling contrast of Mark Bowen, often seen shredding his guitar in a dress during live performances, alongside Lee Kiernan's equally dynamic guitar work, Adam Devonshire's foundational bass, and Jon Beavis's relentless drumming. Their sound—a visceral mix of punk ferocity and post-punk depth—confronts themes from social to personal, blurring the lines between the individual and the collective.

Live, IDLES is an unparalleled force, transforming gigs into cathartic revolts against apathy. Bowen's onstage presence, defying norms with his choice of attire, complements Talbot's engaging delivery, creating a space where music transcends to become a shared, electrifying experience of rebellion and unity. Through their performances, IDLES prove themselves as not just musicians but architects of a movement, demonstrating the enduring power of music to unite, challenge, and inspire in a world hungry for authenticity and connection.

Gift Horse is a punk song that will get you up and moving. Dancing even. Watch the video below. Get entranced with the entire thing. From the first bass line to the screeching guitar to the thumping drums. I have no idea

“Fuck the king! He ain't the king, she's the !”

Read the Room - The Smile

In the hallowed halls of modern rock, The Smile emerges not merely as a side project but as a beacon of innovation, its roots entangled deeply within the storied earth of Radiohead's legacy. Comprising Thom Yorke's enigmatic vocal prowess, Jonny Greenwood's virtuosic guitar landscapes, and the rhythmic precision of Tom Skinner, this trio doesn't just smile; they smirk with the knowledge of their indelible mark upon the canvas of contemporary music.

For the most part, you’re going to want to check out their entire album. But this is my favorite song. The lyrics are a bit vague so it can mean anything to anyone. Most

“Honestly? Maybe you should read the room. What on earth? (What on earth?). Come on, honey, read the room.”

World I Want To Live - Murkage Dave, Atmosphere

I don’t know much about Murkage Dave, but I do know about Atmosphere, the revered stalwarts of the Minneapolis hip-hop scene, have long been celebrated for their introspective lyricism and pioneering spirit. Originating from the heart of Minnesota, this duo—comprised of Slug (Sean Daley) and Ant (Anthony Davis)—has not only put the spotlight on their state's vibrant musical landscape but has also played a pivotal role in the cultural tapestry that weaves through the streets of Minneapolis. Their narrative-driven rap, deeply rooted in the everyday struggles and triumphs, mirrors the complex identity of a city known for its artistic innovation and the legendary First Avenue venue, a crucible for musical talent where Atmosphere has left an indelible mark.

The band's journey parallels the rise of other Minnesota icons, such as The Hold Steady, who share a knack for storytelling that captures the essence of local life. Atmosphere's music is a mosaic of Minnesota itself, reflecting the highs and lows of the Twins and the Vikings, embodying the grit and resilience of Burnsville, and echoing the communal spirit that defines the Minneapolis hip-hop scene. Through their lens, Minnesota is not just a backdrop but a living, breathing character in their artistry, showcasing the depth and diversity of the state's cultural contributions to the national music stage.

This is the “Atmosphere” version and I dig the whole vibe of this song. The title is a great description of the song. Its people talking about the world they want to live in in various ways. I love how Dave says a couple times:

“'Cause my pain, is different from your pain. But we know that pain exists. We've all been through different things. I know you're tired of the, tired of the fight. What if I decide to fight with ya. That's the world I want to live in.”

That’s the world I want to live in too.

But, then Atmosphere, comes in with some straight fire lines that just flow so smoothly. I can’t find the lyrics online anywhere, so this is my best guess (transcribing old school like high school days.

“I gotta try to not let it puncture us. I gotta learn to fly so high up above the touch. And I don wanna sound presumptuous. But I don’t clutch to a culture of love with no trust. The blood rust at the blade. They just can’t wait to kick dust on the grave. It must be at least 100+ in the shade. That a lot of self hate gettin stuffed into the fray. Heart full of grace need a parking place to fit in. Artificial smart the facial recognitions. Wake me when they start to translate the descriptions. But if they farming us for food are you free range livin? A tiny little graphic of a clock and a knife, thats the message that she dropped into my tracking device. Reminding me to turn off all of my ambulance lights. Thats the kind of world i wanna have in my life.”

So much goodness in this song, check it out.

Good Intentions - 24kGoldn

Great theme and message in this song. We’re fully in the pop section of this playlist. In fact 24kGoldn hosts a show on Hits1 on SiriusXM. But, he also has some SF roots that I am digging showcasing.

24kGoldn, born Golden Landis Von Jones, is a dynamic emblem of San Francisco, California's musical and cultural diversity. His music—a seamless fusion of rap, trap, and pop—vibrates with the youthful energy and eclectic vibes of his hometown, embodying the spirit of a generation that thrives on diversity and digital connectivity. Through his work, 24kGoldn weaves tales of love, ambition, and the quintessential pursuit of success, all while paying homage to the rich tapestry of sounds that the Bay Area is known for.

San Francisco's influence on 24kGoldn's artistry is profound, offering a backdrop of innovation and a melting pot of musical genres that have shaped his unique sound. The vibrant East Bay hip-hop scene, with legends like E-40 pioneering a distinctive flow and storytelling technique, has left an indelible mark on his music. E-40's influence is evident in 24kGoldn's ability to blend catchy hooks with sharp lyrics, capturing the essence of Bay Area swagger and ingenuity. This regional heritage infuses his tracks with a sense of place and identity, making 24kGoldn not just a product of San Francisco but a new voice representing its ongoing musical evolution.

I love the positivity in this song. I love how he focuses on the dirt he did, but says that we can start today. Today we can change. Today you can decide to be a better person. I love how the flow ends:

“Ain’t to late to change your life and be exactly what you want!”

But the rest of the lead up to that is just so good.

“Made it out the hood (Hood), uh, got it out the mud (Mud), uh. Mama say she proud of me, don't know what I've become, uh. I be in my feelings, but I still don't feel enough. I got angels watchin' over, but them demons creepin' up, uh. Bottles on the floor, uh, models in the tub, uh. Room is still a mess, been too depressed to clean it up, uh. Plaques on every wall, but they from 2021. Take a picture, smoke a Swisher, reminisce on how it was, uh. Wipin' off the tears, up, pickin' up the crumbs, uh. I had good intentions 'til I started slippin' up, uh. Every story ends, but it ain't over 'til it's done. Ain't too late to change your life and be exactly what you want.”

Check out the video. The beach scenes, shot a mere few blocks from my place.

I Think Of You - Caitlyn Smith, featuring Ruston Kelly

Another artist on this week’s list with a connection to home for me and specifically, another Minnesota artist. Caitlyn Smith's musical journey is deeply rooted in the picturesque landscapes and the biting cold of Minnesota winters, a backdrop that has profoundly influenced her artistry and sound. Growing up in Cannon Falls, a small town nestled within the vast expanses of the state, Smith's music embodies the stark beauty and introspective solitude that comes with enduring Minnesota's harsh winters. These conditions, known for their ability to foster a sense of reflection and creativity, have imbued her songs with a depth and resilience that echo the enduring spirit of her home state. The quiet, snow-blanketed surroundings of Minnesota winters provided Smith with a canvas for her songwriting, allowing her to craft stories that resonate with warmth, honesty, and a palpable sense of place. Her music, much like the Minnesota landscape that shaped her, is a testament to the beauty that can be found in the quietest moments and the coldest nights, making Caitlyn Smith a true embodiment of the state's rich musical heritage.

Ruston Kelly's music, with its raw emotional depth and unique blend of Americana, country, and rock elements, serves as a compelling complement to Caitlyn Smith's soulful narratives and powerful vocal delivery. Both artists excel in their ability to weave personal experiences into their music, creating songs that resonate with listeners on a profoundly intimate level. Kelly's introspective lyricism and exploration of redemption amidst life's challenges beautifully echo Smith's storytelling prowess and the emotional intensity she brings to her tracks. Together, their music offers a rich, multi-faceted listening experience that spans the spectrum of human emotion, highlighting the complementary nature of their artistry within the landscape of contemporary music.

I feel this song. Its about remembering things about a former lover. And how everything reminds you of that person. I especially love the line about stealing cigarettes.

“Think of you sittin' on the back porch, laughin'. Drinkin' Black Box and bitchin' 'bout the traffic. And you're stealin' my cigarettes. You knew it was all gonna come down crashin'. Still tryna figure out what the hell happened. When I think of everything I had to lose. I think of you.”

Strangers - Lewis Capaldi

Another pop song played on Hits1 (can you tell that I’ve been listening to that station a lot lately). Lewis Capaldi, the Scottish singer-songwriter with an unassuming demeanor and powerhouse vocals, has rapidly ascended to international fame, thanks in large part to his chart-topping hits that have dominated radio stations worldwide.

This about not being to rely on a former lover in the way you once did and how crushing that life can be. Check out the lyrics below.

“And I know. I waited all my life just to fall for someone like you. In the blink of an eye, yeah, it all fell through. I can't even lie, I'm not doin' well. Wakin' up without you, sleepin' by myself. Alone in our room, all your stuff is gone. Yeah, I'm standin' still here while you're movin' on. When my world would tear in two. You were who I ran to. Now I can't even call, or call you my friend. Oh, darlin', it's strange 'cause you and I are strangers all over again. Heart's a mess and head's ablaze. The nights become the starts of days. And I've been drinkin' just to get me through 'em.”

Right Behind You - J Mascis

J Mascis, as the frontman of Dinosaur Jr., has left an indelible mark on the punk and indie music scenes with his distinctive guitar work and laconic vocal style. Since the band's formation in the mid-1980s, Mascis and Dinosaur Jr. have been credited with pioneering a unique sound that blends the raw energy of punk with the melodic complexity of indie rock, influencing a generation of musicians and bands that followed. Their loud, feedback-laden performances and Mascis's mastery of the guitar have become defining characteristics of the band's legacy. Dinosaur Jr.'s contribution to the evolution of alternative music cannot be overstated, as they helped to shape the sound of the genre in the late 20th century, paving the way for the mainstream success of alternative rock in the 1990s.

He’s released a new album of solo work and its excellent. This is just one song from the album. Expect to hear more. I love how this song sounds. I love the vocals. I love the guitar. I love the ending guitar solo. I love the lyrics that can mean a lot of things to a lot of different people.

“Right behind you, me. Where we thought we'd be. Can't describe you. We never get to see.”

Water Underground - Real Estate

Real Estate is a formidable indie band and have been around for quite a while. Real Estate, a band renowned for their mastery in crafting mesmerizing songs, stands out in the indie music scene for their seamless blend of soothing melodies and intricate lyrical depth. Their sound, characterized by jangly guitars and laid-back vocals, flows smoothly over the listener, creating an almost ethereal listening experience. Yet, beneath the serene surface, Real Estate's songs often harbor profound emotional weight, betraying the deep emotions hidden behind the lyrics. This juxtaposition between their sound's apparent simplicity and the complexity of their themes has become a hallmark of their music, showcasing their unique ability to engage listeners on multiple levels. Through their nuanced approach, Real Estate invites their audience into a reflective, immersive musical journey that resonates long after the last note has played.

This song a great example. It sounds amazing and a bit 70’s breezy. But, underneath it are lyrics that convey someone dealing with some stuff in their brain and looking for relief. They are looking for the water underground to heal them. What is the water underground. I don’t know. Water can mean lots of things. If it were a song by the National I would say water almost always refers to drinking. But, I don’t think thats the case here. I think the water underground is something more wholesome here.

“I hear a song there inside my head (I hear a song there). Can't figure out what it's trying to say. I hear a voice inside my head (I hear a voice inside). Can't figure out what it's saying.”

Right Back to It - Waxahatchee (featuring MJ Lenderman)

Waxahatchee, the artistic alias of Katie Crutchfield from Birmingham, Alabama, crafts a sound that is unmistakably influenced by the rich storytelling and emotional depth of the American South. Her debut album, "American Weekend," showcases a lo-fi, raw authenticity that has become a signature of her work. Katie's musical journey, deeply intertwined with her sister Allison Crutchfield's, has been marked by their collective experiences in underground punk bands, infusing Waxahatchee's music with an indie folk and punk ethos that stands out. This unique blend, rooted in the Crutchfield sisters' shared history and Katie's introspective songwriting, creates a narrative that is both deeply personal and evocative of their southern heritage.

This is the first single off her upcoming album. Its melodic and is well produced. A stark contrast to the lo-fi, sometimes crackly American Weekend. This is a love song about sticking with someone I think.

“I've been yours for so long. We come right back to it. I let my mind run wild. I don't know why I do it. But you just settle in. Like a song with no end. If I can keep up. We'll get right back to it.”

A Love International - Khruangbin

Khruangbin, hailing from the eclectic musical landscape of Houston, Texas, has captivated audiences worldwide with their unique fusion of global music influences, ranging from Thai funk to surf rock and soul. Their sound, characterized by its effortless cool and transcendent vibe, has a way of enveloping listeners in a sonic embrace that feels as refreshing as a quietly flowing stream over one's toes on a warm summer day. The band's ability to craft songs that just sound good, blending intricate guitar work with laid-back rhythms and minimalistic vocals, creates an immersive experience that transcends language and genre. Khruangbin's music flows smoothly, inviting listeners into a state of serene contemplation and joy, making them a standout act in today's music scene for their ability to connect with fans across the globe through the universal language of sound.

You won’t see me putting full instrumentals on my playlists too often. I tend to focus quite abit on the lyrics and how the lyrics flow and fit in with the music. The closest thing to all music that you’ll see is a jam band like Goose here. But, this song is just so good (and they are playing this band on SiriusXMU) so it makes on this playlist.

This song is a great example of their sound.

Check out the playlist below (with some bonus songs); or

click this link to an Apple Music Playlist.

Top Songs of 2023 (13-50)

2024-05-29T15:09:00.000-07:00

My top ten (really 12) was pretty emo and intense. The rest of the list is not so much. Its just some of the great music that was released this year (mostly). This was a super weird year for music. I know that people complained a lot about the music released this year. And it seems there wasn’t really a consensus favorite album or defining song or songs of the year. I think there is always good music out there. You just need to work hard to find it. I’ve already posted my top 12 songs (I had a tie for the 10th spot). This is the rest of the Top 50. And there are still songs that I wish I would have been able to include. Check it out!

13. Spotless - Zach Bryan (feat. The Lumineers)

The Lumineers are/were Zach’s favorite band. This was living a life long dream to do a song with them. And the song is excellent. Another song that will be on a lot of end of year lists.

“Turn on the TV, act like you don't see me. Tell me everything is okay. My mother is a saint and told me if I wait. Everything meant to be will stay. Well, I ain't a believer in people pleasing neither. Fucking telephones have ruined this place. Met a man in New York City, told me humans ain't as pretty. As a perfect day we'll chase for all the days.”

14. A&W - Lana Del Rey

I saw LDR open with this song live this year at Outside Lands. It was excellent. I have long been an LDR fan. This song is just a great example of what she does well. America, sex, LA, commentary on life.

“I haven't done a cartwheel since I was nine. I haven't seen my mother in a long, long time. I mean, look at me. Look at the length of my hair, and my face, the shape of my body. Do you really think I give a damn. What I do after years of just hearing them talking? I say I live in Rosemead, really, I'm at the Ramada. It doesn't really matter, doesn't really, really matter. Call him up, "Come into my bedroom" Ended up, we fuck on the hotel floor. It's not about havin' someone to love me anymorе. This is the experiеnce of bein' an American whore.”

15. Tropic Morning News - The National

You’ll find this song on many of the top indie lists. Probably in the top 10.

“I'll be over here lying near the ocean. Making ocean sounds. Let me know if you can come over. And work the controls for a while.”

16. Satanist - boygenius

Another great one from the indie super group, boygenius. This is basically asking a close friend or lover to continue on a journey with you. Even to the dark parts.

“Will you be a nihilist with me? If nothin' matters, man, that's a relief. Solomon had a point when he wrote "Ecclesiastes". If nothing can be known, then stupidity is holy. If the void becomes a bore, we'll treat ourselves to some self-belief.”

17. Hollywood Baby - 100 gecs

This is hyper pop. This is matured hyper pop. The kids dig this stuff.

“What you crying about, baby? Are you getting lazy? Clear blue sky but it rains all the late fees. Did you get the payment? We had an arrangement. We don't wanna watch the news, we just read statements. Yeah, do you wanna party? Malibu Barbie. Are you gonna pack that shit up when it all comes tumbling down? Do you wanna party? Malibu Barbie. Are you gonna pack that shit up when it all comes tumbling down?”

18. Changes, Pts. 1 & 2 - Neal Francis

I saw this live. It was awesome.

“Changes. Running through my life. And you get farther. And farther behind me. I'm not answering. For anything I did. Anymore. Oh no.”

19. Space Invader - The National

I dig the mumbling and music outro.

“What if I'd never written the letter. I slipped in the sleeve of the record I gave you What if I'd stayed on the C train to Lafayette? What if we'd never met? What if I'd only just done what you told me? And never looked back? What if I'd only ducked away down the hallway? And faded to black?”

20. Changes - Joy Oladokun

So much hope in this song.

“Newspaper says the world's on fire. People yelling and the water's rising. It's easy to feel kinda anxious. Yeah, we've thought it was the end of time. But we're still holding on and we're still trying. Life's always been a little dangеrous. But I don't wanna stay the same, so.”

21. Used To Be Young - Miley Cyrus

Man. This Miley Cyrus album is so good. I have two songs on my top 50. And I love how she captures getting older and remembering being young. And how its unfair to ask of yourself or others to express the wildness of younger hearts.

“I know I used to be crazy. I know I used to be fun. You say I used to be wild. I say I used to be young. You tell me time has done changed me. That's fine, I've had a good run. I know I used to be crazy. That's 'causе I used to be young”

22. Trying - Joy Oladokun

Again, So. Much. Hope.

“I don't think it ever ends. This feeling like you'll never win. Guess I don't mind it. 'Cause I just keep trying. I've been down this low before. Fighting in a thousand wars. Not sure how far the line is. Hoping to find it. I just keep trying. I just keep trying.”

23. Pittsburgh - Wilco

I love this breezy Wilco song that is reminiscent of Sky Blue Sky. I love how it sounds.

“I've always been afraid to sing. That's a little thing. Somehow, that's all I do. Strange as that seems. I've outlived. My dreams.”

24. Flowers (Demo) - Miley Cyrus

I love the slowed down demo version of the song.

“We were good, we were gold. Kinda dream that can't be sold. We were right 'til we weren't. Built a home and watched it burn.”

25. Somebody Like Me - Joy Oladokun

I love how real she is about her situation.

“I've searched the rubble of all my decisions. Learned to say "sorry" for the things I do. Though I don't want to. Some days, it feels so hard to get better. And I've never been as honest as I want to be. When I need help through. Can anybody say a prayer? Can anybody light a candle. For somebody like me? Ooh-oooh-ooh. It's the least that God could do. For giving more than He could handle. To somebody like me. Ooh-oooh-ooh.”

26. Crying in Public - Madi Diaz

I heard this for the first time when I saw Madi Diaz open for MMJ. I shed tears as I processed and digested what she was singing about. I went from never shedding tears ever to frequently shedding them in public.

“I don't wanna be cryin' in public. But here I am cryin' in public. I am strong and it's stronger than I am right now. Tryna keep it in but it's comin' out. I don't wanna be cryin' in public. But here I am cryin' in public.”

27. Dumbest Girl Alive - 100 gecs

I love this song. I love how loud it is. It feels loud. I love the overly produced drums, distorted guitar, and over autotuned (?), vocals.

“If you think I'm stupid now, you should see me when I'm high. And I'm smarter than I look, I'm the dumbest girl alive. I took ten Advils today, I've got bruises on my thighs. Plus I gave away my brain, I'm the dumbest girl alive. I've got lightning in my veins, walk around like Frankenstein. I did science on my face, I'm the dumbest girl alive. Never ask me what I think, don't know why you even try. 'Cause I always get it wrong, I'm the dumbest girl alive. Money comin' from my mouth, money comin' from my eyes. And I keep on losing count, I'm the dumbest girl alive. And I'm picking up the pacе, I'm so happy, I could die. Put emojis on my grave, I'm thе dumbest girl alive. And I feel so dangerous, but you say I'm doin' fine now. Guess that's how it goes, I'm the dumbest girl alive. Text, text, text, text, like you're tryna start a fight. Yeah, I'll fuckin' text you back, I'm the dumbest girl alive.”

28. Sinatra Drive Breakdown - Yo La Tengo

This song grooves. I just love how it sounds.

“I see my arms flail, I see the night alone. I see brief glimpses of clear sky. I see times I wanted, regained and lost again.

29. Vampire Empire - Big Thief

A great song about the end of a relationship and how confusing it can be.

“Well, I walked into your dagger for the last time. It's like trying to start a fire with matches in the snow. Where you can't seem to hold me, can't seem to let me go. So I can't find surrender, and I can't keep control. You turn me inside out and then you want the outside in. You spin me all around, then you ask me not to spin. You say you want to be alone, and you want children. You wanna be with me, you wanna be with him.”

30. Psychos - Jenny Lewis

According to Jenny this is about dating in your fourties.

“I'm not a psycho. I'm just trying get laid. I'm a rock-and-roll disciple. In a video game. Turn down the treble. Drop the bass. Respect to your guru. Namaste. Ye.”

31. Taking Things For Granted - Joy Oladokun

Another song with Joy talking about dealing with the various issues we all have to deal with in life.

“I'm learning to right my wrongs. And speak up when I feel like I'm not being listened to. But some story entered my bones when I was far too young. To know not to listen to what people say. 'Cause everybody's feeling the pressure. Of a world that keeps trying to end us every day.”

32. Mindful Solutionism - Aesop Rock

This song is so good; I am disappointed I don’t have it placed higher. It captures the positives and negatives of progress and technology. I love how he covers all the progress we’ve made in a very witty way.

“You take a lever and a pulley and a winch and a wedge. You get a labyrinth of aqueducts and pyramid steps. Before the Jesus, Archimedes on that miracle tech. Year zero, you could feel the future rearing its head. Put a shoe on a horse, shoot a man with a gun. Steam power, bifocals and mechanical funk. Manipulate electricity, no, it can not be done. Yes it can, ain't a dam that could cancel the flood. True to human curiosity, at the tree of knowledge. Pulling genies out of bottles, stealing from Leonardo's. Plane train auto, hauling space age cargo. Bizarro technology, every day is tomorrow. Telegraph, telephone, you could flirt with Doris. In Poughkeepsie from a cozy geodesic dome in Sydney. You can write a letter with no paper. You could fix anything with a laser.”

33. Hungersite - Goose

Goose blew up this year. I saw them play the Warfield and had a great spot in the balcony to dance and watch. It was excellent. This band of Phish acolytes totally jams. This is a great example of their work and one of their more popular songs. Didn’t get a chance to see it live.

“Hope, it's bent like rope. I'm growing tired. Of hauling on yesterday. Closed, is that how it goes? Well I might be rusted. But brother, I'm here to stay.”

34. I Saw - Young Fathers

I love moving to this song. From a great album. I love how it sounds. I love it grooves. I love the emotion behind it combined with the clearly danceable vibe.

“Brush your teeth. Wash your face. Run away.”

35. Bull Believer - Wednesday

I saw this band of southern punks live at Outside Lands this year. They were great and full of emotion. They are also on a lot of year end lists. Potentially including this song. The screaming at the end is outstanding.

“Finish him.”

36. Hey Driver - Zach Bryan (feat. The War and Treaty)

Another great one from Zach Bryan’s excellent self-titled album. Just excellent. I love the Klonopin reference.

“Hey, driver, I've been feelin' like there's no point at all. The Klonopin ain't kicked in, and I missed my sister's call. Hey, driver, I'm so tired of the ways of this old world. Just drive until the tires melt. We'll come back when it's healed (oh)”

37. SHED TEARS - Killer Mike (ft Mozzy, Lena Bird Myles)

Killer Mike dropped an amazing solo album. As a reader of mine will know, I am a huge fan of the hip hop duo, Run The Jewels, of which Killer Mike is 1/2. This is a great example of much of the album. I love the gospel feel for sure. But, its the realness of the lyrics that really capture it for me.

“I shed tears every morning in the bathroom mirror. Face to face with fate, had to face my fears. It was me, I'm the reason that I fell. That was hell, locked in self-guilt like jail. Lord, I cried, almost died, empty inside. The devil whispers in your ear, you contemplate suicide. I tell you I know, promise, honest, been there before. And it's pride before the fall, it's how it usually go”

38. Clean Slate - The Mountain Goats

I really dug The Mountain Goats follow up album to 2002’s All Hail West Texas. This song captures alot of the early sentiments of songs from The Mountain Goats. The lyrics are awesome and the production and sound are great.

“Leave home feeling empty, change planes in Taipei. Stay awake the whole timе, end up several worlds away. Thе house was almost full that day, they made a space for you. This world is sad and broken, gotta fix a crack or two. Rest until you're rested. Climb back onto the caravan. Remember at your peril. Forget the ones you can.”

39. Grand Junction - The Hold Steady

THS released a good album this year. I dug much of the album and it works as a complete album. It was hard to figure out what song from that album I wanted to include on this list; there wasn’t one or two that stuck out like in previous albums. This is classic THS with two characters in a desperate situation and trying to figure things out in that desperate situation.

“That punk with a mustache who brought us our breakfast. Never came back with the check. On our third day of driving with no expectations. Except some vague sense of The West. Our silence was stretched between nerves and the knowledge. The ring that she wore wasn't mine. 'Cause people get tired and they turn on each other. And the rivers run from the divides.”

40. Younger and Dumber - Indigo De Souza

I saw this song live and she tears (I wasn’t the only one). It was excellent. This is about forgiving yourself for all the dumb shit you do when you’re younger. And specifically the big decisions you made that end up haunting you.

“When I was younger. Younger and dumber. Built like a flower. You came to pick me from out of the city. You turned me sour. When I was younger. Younger and prouder. I was nobody. You came to hurt me in all the right places. Made me somebody.”

41. DOWN BY LAW - Killer Mike, CeeLo Green

This is the opener to that Killer Mike album. So much energy. I love the feeling behind this song. I love the commentary. I realize that SCIENTISTS & ENGINEERS is the song that everyone is talking about. And its good, but I wanted to highlight some other songs.

"*****’s done gave up on God. Maybe God gave up on us. Maybe She angry we worshippin' all these false idols, so devils just prеyin' on us.”

42. What Just Happened - The Kid Laroi

I had to include my favorite song from The Kid Laroi (Little 33Forever’s favorite artist).

“What's your excuse? I'ma blame the drugs. I care, I care, I don't care enough.”

43. making the bed - Olivia Rodrigo

If you’re missing your mid-90’s alt rock angst. You’re going to find it in Olivia Rodrigo’s GUTS. I dig her whole vibe. I love this album its excellent and full of all that teenage angst. This song is just so good. And I think it gets overlooked by the other more rocking songs. But this ballad is my favorite from her album.

“Want it, so I got it, did it, so it's done. Another thing I ruined I used to do for fun. Another piece of plastic I could just throw away. Another conversation with nothing good to say. I thought it, so I said it, took it 'cause I can. Another day pretendin' I'm older than I am. Another perfect moment that doesn't feel like mine. Another thing I forced to be a sign. Well, sometimes I feel like I don't wanna be where I am. Gettin' drunk at a club with my fair-weather friends. Push away all the people who know me the best. But it's me who's been making the bed. I'm so tired of bein' the girl that I am. Every good thing has turned into something I dread. And I'm playin' the victim so well in my head. But it's me who's been making the bed. Me who's been making the bed. Pull the sheets over my head. Making the bed. And every night, I wake up from this one recurrin' dream, Where I'm drivin' through the city and the brakes go out on me. I can't stop at the red light, I can't swerve off the road. I read somewhere it's 'cause my life feels so out of control. And I tell someone I love them just as a distraction. They tell me that they love me like I'm some tourist attraction. They're changin' my machinery and I just let it happen. I got the things I wanted, it's just not what I imagined.”

44. Shit Talk - Sufjan Stevens

Sufjan came out and dedicated this album to his partner who died this year. The whole album is heartbreaking and heavy.

“No more fighting. I've nothing left to give. I've nothing but atrophy. Did I cross you? Did I fail to believe. In positive thoughts?”

45. DOUBT - Jeff Rosenstock

This song resonates me because of the beginning. It sounds like what I’ve gotten out of ketamine therapy.

“Speak. Even if it feels weird. Even if it feels weird to be yourself. Speak. Even if it's hard to. Even if it hurts you. Even if your brain begins to melt. Slow motion breakdown. P-p-p-pantomime for help. Scream. It doesn’t matter anyway. It doesn't matter anyway so let it out. Scream. Louder than you need to. Loud enough to cut through. Louder than the noise that drowns you out. Slow motion breakdown. Slow motion breakdown. Slow motion breakdown. There's no need to be scared. Nobody knows it’s there. Ah, oh-uh-woah-woah.”

46. Soul Capturer - Animal Collective

I dig the whole album this came out on. I love the classic AC sound.

“Soul Capturer, drunk off of your teasing. Soul Capturer, come to crack your shell. You need a hush, you need a push. You need some tush, it gets you high. Pulls you from the rapture every time.”

47. Rock Salt and Nails (live) - Tyler Childers

I am just getting into Tyler Childers. Expect more music shared from him in 2024. This song is heavy. And its a good reason why art exists. Sometimes you get angry. And you want to retaliate. Its best to put that in a song. Or listen to a song.

“Now if the ladies were blackbirds, if the ladies were thrushes. Well, I'd lie there for hours in the chilly cold marshes. And if the woman were squirrels with them high bushy tails. Well, I'd load up my shotgun with rock salt and nails. I'd load up my shotgun.”

48. Gorilla - Little Simz

This is just a great boisterous hip hop song. I love the bass guitar in the background. dum dum dum. I love how she flows.

“Tunes in the locker, I been waitin' to unleash these. It's a no show if you can't guarantee fees (No, no, no). I ain't got one threat to consider. Heaven and Earth attached to one killer (One, one). Rest in peace to Mac Miller, new Simz drop to shake the whole shit up. What's next? (Ayy). We'll be here for months talkin' about prospects. Stayin' on my job, yes, sir. When rain is against her, I'm weather-resistant on my polyester.”

49. God Is a Circle - Yves Tumor

This is about how god is all around us, but not an imaginary sky being that sends you to hell for not believing in him. And that you need to be a good person, regardless.

“Knowing you. You might hurt someone. Or yourself. You would tear. Everything apart. If you found out. Everyone you loved loved someone else.”

50. I swear, I Really Wanted To Make A “Rap” Album, But This Is Literally The Way The Wind Blew Me This Time - Andre 3000

Like the title said. Andre 3000 was going to make a rap album. He didn’t he made a flute or maybe more broadly, a woodwind album. I predict people will be rapping over it for many years to come.

Favorite Songs 2023

2024-05-29T12:16:00.000-07:00

“It was a work of art. That's the hardest part. To spiral out, to try and float. To see a friend, to see a ghost. Bitter-brained, always drunk. Rail-thin, Zoloft. Subtle change, shorter days. Dead-eyed, dead weight. Your life, your dreams. Your mind, your needs. My needs. Your needs, my needs.”

My top ten songs includes a total of 12 songs and only seven artists as Noah, Zach, and The National make multiple appearances in just the top ten. Similar to my birthday playlist, this list of ten songs is pretty intense, representing the intensity of my year. That being said, many of these songs are also popular songs amongst the critics this year and you’re likely to see all these artists and a few of the songs on other critical best of lists. In fact, you’re unlikely to find a critical song list that doesn’t include the indie super group, boygenius and their outstanding “Not Strong Enough.” You’ll for sure find The National’s First Two Pages Frankenstein on almost any indie driven best of list. So they are songs that I am super connected to that area also popular with critics.

1. Your Needs, My Needs - Noah Kahan

Man did I play the crap out of this song this year. Every word of this song rings true in some way. I even love the little guitar part towards the end. The work of art. The naming things. The Zoloft. The change. Being bitter brained. The shorter days. The dead eyes. Being dead weight. Your Dreams. Your Life. Your Mind. Your Needs. My Needs. I saw this live this year and it was everything I was hoping for. Noah is singing about his part in the end of a relationship here.

“Oh well, who was I? Who was I to watch you wilt? You ain't gotta tell me what it means Trace the outlines of your dreams. You'll always be a flower on my skin. And the pain that I am in. It's all the same. The losing touch, the waiting game. You cross that county line. I promise to be there this time, alright? You were a work of art. That's the hardest part. Howling like dogs in the light of the moon. Holding our breath after 1:32. You asked me why I wasn't sayin' a word. I'm namin' the stars in the sky after you. It was a work of art. That's the hardest part. To spiral out, to try and float. To see a friend, to see a ghost. Bitter-brained, always drunk. Rail-thin, Zoloft. Subtle change, shorter days. Dead-eyed, dead weight. Your life, your dreams. Your mind, your needs. My needs, Your needs, my needs.”

2. Starved - Zach Bryan

I saw this live this year. It was awesome. I am pretty sure I shed tears. This was released as a single and was not on any record as far as I know. This song resonates so hard with me. And Zach brings just such emotion to the song. I chose the live version here because it captures all that emotion. I love how he just lets “THERE IS NO WORLD IN WHICH I AM GOOD FOR YOU,” sit there for a couple beats. So you, as the listener, really get his point. Thats usually when the tears startup. Also the fiddle is just fantastic.

“The purest parts of my heart are you and me.

I love when your grin grows. The corners of your lips lifting lift me when I'm low. I read in the good book. The best things in life are free and need to be let go. So take one last good look. Let's share one last cigarette. I'll be gone by the time you're ashing it. Stop asking things you know the answers to. There is no world in which I am good for you.”

3. Once Upon A Poolside - The National (feat. Sufjan Stevens)

The National’s album featuring this song is awesome. While there are more popular songs on the album, this is my favorite and I think it does a good job of capturing the theme of the album. This one finds, lead singer, Matt Berninger, contemplating the end of his band or his marriage or both. This captured my thoughts perfectly in the spring of 2023.

“What was the worried thing you said to me? I can't keep talking, I can't stop shaking. I can't keep track of everything I'm taking. Everything is different, why do I feel the same? Am I asking for too much? Can't hear what you're saying. What was the worried thing you said to me? I thought we could make it through anything. This is the closest we've ever been. And I have no idea what's happening. Is this how this whole thing is gonna end?”

4. I Remember Everything - Zach Bryan (feat. Kacey Musgraves)

I love the back and forth between Kacey and Zach. While I love how Zach sings, “I remember, I remember, everything,” in the first verse, I think Kacey’s verse wins. Its outstanding. And she just totally shuts Zach down. I actually owned an 88 Ford (Tempo).

“You're drinkin' everything to ease your mind. But when the hell are you gonna ease mine? You're like concrete feet in the summer heat. It burns like hell when two souls meet. No, you'll never be the man that you always swore. But I'll remember you singin' in that '88 Ford.”

5. New Order T-Shirt - The National

Another excellent one from The National’s awesome album. Matt perfectly captures how you try to capture and keep those moments with people in your life. It reminds me of all the moments I try to keep in my heart with people I love.

“I keep what I can of you. Split-second glimpses and snapshots and sounds. You in my New Order t-shirt. Holdin' a cat and a glass of beer. I flicker through. I carry them with me like drugs in a pocket. You in a Kentucky aquarium. Talkin' to a shark in a corner.”

6. Dawns - Zach Bryan (feat. Maggie Rogers)

Man seeing this song live was amazing. The crowd was just so loud and so into it. Seeing this song live was a musical highlight for me. Check out my video of the song below and hear the crowd erupt and then sing along.

“I get fucked up just 'cause I'm scared. Love's just another drug I have grown a victim to. So what do I do? Oh, what do I do? All is fair in love and war. So what the hell are we even fightin' for? I'm on your front porch beggin' for my dawns back. Give my goddamn records and my clothes back. 'Cause I'm through. Oh, how I'm through.”

7. Dial Drunk - Noah Kahan

Noah Kahan has blown up this year. At one point I was hearing this song on the Hits 1 station on SiriusXM and Little 33Forever and I looked at each other like, what is going on. Then Post Malone kicked in a verse and it made sense. But still, this dude blew up so much that Post Malone is doing a version of his song with him. And this is an excellent song. Its fun to sing a long too. You don’t have had to directly experienced what he is talking about to get the emotion and feeling of being abandoned. This song was awesome live. And, I thought for most of the year it’d be my number one song.

“I beg you, sir, just let me call. I'll give you my blood alcohol. I'll rot with all the burnouts in the cell. I'll change my faith, I'll praise the flag. Let's wait, I swear she'll call me back. "Son, are you a danger to yourself?" Fuck that, sir, just let me call. I'll give you my blood alcohol. I'll rot with all the burnouts in the cell. I'll change my faith, I'll kiss the badge. Let's wait, I swear she'll call me back "Son, why do you do this to yourself? And I said. I ain't proud of all the punches that I've thrown. In the name of someone I no longer know (I no longer know). For the shame of being young, drunk, and alone. Traffic lights and a transmitter radio. I don't like that when they threw me in the car. I gave your name as my emergency phone call. Honey, it rang and rang, even the cops thought you were wrong for hangin' up. I dial drunk, I'd die a drunk, I'd die for you

8. Not Strong Enough - boygenius

I hope you know the indie super group boygenius. I am a fan of each of them individually (Phoebe Briders, Lucy Dacus, and Julien Baker). Individually, they make highly emotive and vulnerable music. Together they do that, but they totally freaking rock as well. Before the prior song, I thought this would be my top song of the year. It captures all the great elements of this group and is a great representation of how they play off each other in an excellent way. “I don’t know why I am the way I am.”

“Always an angel, never a god. I don't know why I am the way I am. There's something in the static, I think I've been having revelations. Comin' to, in the front seat, nearly empty. Skip the exit to our old street and go home. Go home alone.”

9. Laugh Track - The National (feat. Phoebe Bridgers)

The National released a second album this year, titled Laugh Track. This track is a great and sad and full of emotion. It’s another song from their pair of albums that captures the anxiety about the end of things. Or nearing the end of things.

“Turn on the laugh track. We'll see if it changes the scene. Maybe this is just the funniest version. Of us that we've ever been. I think our feet are gonna slip. I think our hands are gonna shake. I think our eyes are gonna cry. I think our hearts are gonna break. Maybe we'll never lighten up. Maybe this isn't gonna quit. I think it's never coming back. Maybe we've always been like this.”

10 (t). Friends - Joy Oladokun (with Mt. Joy)

I love so much about Joy Oladokun and her album Proof Of Life. I love so many songs on it, I am surprised that this is the only song that made my top ten. I so want Joy to be the spokesperson for her generation. I love how she makes herself vulnerable and yet full of hope at the same time. This is a great example of her music.

This song is about maintaining a great relationship with an ex and still relying on each other for support.

"When the days are cold. When the nights are longer. You can be my sun. You can be like summer. When the waves, they flow. When the weight gets heavy. You don't have to go. If we can't be family. Better friends than foes. Smoke weed when it feels right. But too bad it won't heal mine. I haven't prayed in a long time. I'm hoping God really don't mind. I'm just trying to live right. I'm just trying to keep sight. I might be on the wrong side. But it's alright."

10 (t). Levee - Wilco

Here is what I said earlier this year about this song:

Wilco's latest album is truly a gem that resonates with the band's earlier work, notably reminiscent of the Sky Blue Sky era. The album boasts an incredible sound, and I highly recommend giving it a listen. This particular track, while leaning toward the heavier side, features Jeff Tweedy's exceptional songwriting and musical prowess. The guitar work is particularly noteworthy, and the overall vibe of the song creates a captivating atmosphere that draws you in. The introspective lyrics (highlighted below) add depth to the song, inviting contemplation on the complexities of modern life and the choices we make in navigating it. Wilco's ability to blend meaningful lyrics with compelling instrumentation is showcased beautifully in this track.

“I love the levee by the lake. But the levee is fake. Why worry 'bout the rain and the wind. When I know it comes from within?"

Save me, save me again. Make me, make me lose you and then. Save me, save me again. Make me, make me use you again.

I love to take my meds. Like my doctor said. But I worry. If I shouldn't instead”

10 (t). Puppy and a Truck - Jenny Lewis

This is a fun and witty song and its hard for me to pin down my favorite lyrics from this song. I support checking out Jenny Lewis’ new album, Joy’All. It’s fully influenced by Nashville and full of middle aged existential dread with lots of wit and humor. Lots of great lines throughout the album. This song is full of awesome lyrical plays. And its effectively about contemplating all the crazy shit we all did in response to the pandemic. Every one did some crazy shit. I suspect it hit middle aged people surprisingly hard as middle age leads to lots of existential dread and the pandemic seemed like our worst existential fears were coming true. I love how she starts off the song:

“My 40s are kicking my ass. And handing 'em to me in a margarita glass.”

This is exactly the sort of wit I am talking about. It’s not just the lyrics. Its the way she sings them. Like how she sings,

“If you see us rolling up. Thumbs up. Puppy and a truck.”

If you dig Jenny Lewis, you should check this out. If you dig Jenny Lewis and you’ve wanted her to be totally influenced by Nashville, then this is for you.

“So, I'm 44 in 2020. And thank god I saved up some money. Time to ruminate like, "What the fuck was that?’”

Check out the Top 10 Playlist below on Spotify and Apple Music (click the link).

Birthday Playlist 2023 | My diary of my year: intense, heavy, defining

2024-04-06T13:35:00.001-07:00

“Her body was an outpost for ideas that didn’t work. A nation failed and broken, invaded and then burnt. And the crumbles and the ashes that settled in her purse. Were the ruins of an empire and the people we once were.”

“Pardon the indulgence.” Thats what Chris Cornell said (or something like that…memories are challenging), when I saw him lead Temple of the Dog through a rousing set of classic, indulgent songs in 2013. As I introduce my annual birthday playlist, I think I need to ask you to pardon the indulgence. While I’ve spent most of the year trying to keep my playlists to 10 songs and just around an hour, I have not done that in this case. This playlist clocks in at nearly 40 songs and over three hours. Pardon the indulgence. But, this has been an eventful year. This year was totally significant. It was dark. It was ominous. It was full of change. I am trying to have it end with hope. This playlist reflects all that. I am going to present it without commentary and really let the music speak for itself.

When the Levee Breaks - Led Zepplin

"Crying won't help you. Praying won't do you no good."

The Rat - The Walkmen

"Can't you hear me? I'm bleeding on the wall! Can't you see me? I'm pounding on your door! Can't you hear me when I'm calling out your name?"

Life During Wartime (Live) - The Talking Heads

"This ain't no party, this ain't no disco. This ain't no fooling around. This ain't no Mudd Club, or CBGB. I ain't got time for that now."

Shit Luck - Modest Mouse

“This plane is definitely crashing!This is boat is obviously sinking! This buildings totally burning down! My heart is slowly dried up!”

Blood (Live) - Pearl Jam

“It’s my blood!”

A Pot In Which To Piss - Titus Andronicus

"It was a pretty good GPA. We got a couple of good grades. And it sounded like a pretty good seven inch. And winter didn't seem so cold. And I had a smile for everyone I know. I was starting to get comfortable in the place that I'm in. And it used to not mean anything. It used to not mean anything. It used to not mean anything, but it really means nothing now."

Aphasia - Pinegrove

I wrote a Best Song Ever about this song.

"So satisfied, I said a lot of things tonight. So long, aphasia and the ways it kept me hiding. It's not so much exactly all the words I used. It's more that I was somehow down to let them loose."

Salt In The Wound - boygenius

“You put salt in the wound. And a kiss on my cheek. You butter me up. And you sit down to eat. You add insult to injury. You say you believe in me. But you haven't decided. About taking or leaving me. But you take and you take. Like silks up my sleeve. Tied corner to corner, never ending. Trick after trick, I make the magic. And you unrelentingly ask for the secret.”

Motion Sickness - Phoebe Bridgers

“I hate you for what you did. And, I miss you like a little kid. I faked it every time. But thats alright.”

Divorce Song - Liz Phair

“And when I asked for a separate room. It was late at night and we'd been driving since noon. But if I'd known how that would sound to you. I would have stayed in your bed for the rest of my life. Just to prove I was right. That it's harder to be friends than lovers. And you shouldn't try to mix the two 'Cause if you do it and you're still unhappy. Then you know that the problem is you. And it's true that I stole your lighter. And it's also true that I lost the map. But when you said that I wasn't worth talking to. I had to take your word on that. But if you'd known how that would sound to me. You would have taken it back.”

If Its The Beaches - The Avett Brothers

I wrote a Best Song Ever about this song this year.

“Don’t say its over. Cause that’s the worst news I could hear. I swear that I will. Do my best to be here just the way you like it. Even though its hard to hide. Push my feelings all aside. I will rearrange my plans and change for you.”

Fast Car - Tracy Chapmen

I wrote a Best Song Ever about this song.

“You got a fast car. I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we make a deal. Maybe together we can get somewhere. Any place is better. Starting from zero, got nothing to lose. Maybe we'll make something. Me, myself, I got nothing to prove”

Best of You - Foo Fighters

“I needed somewhere to hang my head. Without your noose. You gave me something that I didn't have. But had no use. I was too weak to give in. Too strong to lose. My heart is under arrest again. But I break loose. My head is giving me life or death. But I can't choose. I swear I'll never give in. I refuse. Is someone getting the best, the best, the best. The best of you?”

The Scientist - Coldplay

“Nobody said it was easy. It's such a shame for us to part. Nobody said it was easy. No one ever said it would be this hard. Oh, take me back to the start.”

Poke - Frightened Rabbit

I wrote a very long Best Song Ever (album edition) about the album.

“You should look through some old photos. I adored you in every one of those. If someone took a picture of us now they'd need to be told. That we had ever clung and tied. A navy knot with arms at night. I'd say she was his sister but she doesn't have his nose. And now we're unrelated and rid of all the shit we hated. But I hate when I feel like this. And I never hated you.”

November Rain - Guns N’ Roses

“When I look into your eyes. I can see a love restrained. But darlin' when I hold you. Don't you know I feel the same?. Nothin' lasts forever. And we both know hearts can change. And it's hard to hold a candle. In the cold November rain.”

Don’t Speak - No Doubt

“You and me. We used to be together, everyday together. Always, I really feel that I'm losin' my best friend. I can't believe this could be the end.”

Stick Season - Noah Kahan

“As you promised me that I was more than all the miles combined. You must've had yourself a change of heart like halfway through the drive. Because your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign. Kept on drivin' straight and left our future to the right. Now I am stuck between my anger and the blame that I can't face. And memories are somethin' even smoking weed does not replace. And I am terrified of weather 'cause I see you when it rains. Doc told me to travel, but there's COVID on the planes.”

“And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed. And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim. I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas. And I'll dream each night of some version of you. That I might not have, but I did not lose. Now you're tire tracks and one pair of shoes. And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do.”

This Year - The Mountain Goats

“I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me.”

Stay Together For The Kids - Blink 182

"What stupid poem could fix this home? I'd read it every day."

Wonderful - Everclear

“I close my eyes when I get too sad. I think thoughts that I know are bad. Close my eyes and I count to ten. Hope it's over when I open them. I want the things that I had before. Like a Star Wars poster on my bedroom door. I wish I could count to ten. Make everything be wonderful again. Hope my mom and I hope my dad. Will figure out why they get so mad. Hear them scream, I hear them fight. Say bad words that make me want to cry.”

End of the Innocence - Don Henley

"Remember when the days were long and rolled beneath the deep blue sky. Didn't have a care in the world. With mom and daddy standing by. And happily ever after fails. And we’ve been poisoned by these fairy tales. Lawyers dwell on small details. Since daddy had to fly. Find a little place where we can go. Still untouched by men. Sit and watch the clouds roll by the tall grass sways in the wind. You can lay your head back on the ground. Let your hair fall all around me. Offer up your best defense. This is the end. This is the end of the innocence."

Mockingbird - Eminem

"Hailie, I know you miss your Mom, and I know you miss your Dad. When I'm gone, but I'm tryin' to give you the life that I never had. I can see you're sad, even when you smile, even when you laugh. I can see it in your eyes, deep inside you wanna cry 'Cause you're scared, I ain't there."

Smile (live) - Pearl Jam

"I miss you already!"

Daughter/It's OK - Pearl Jam

"But it's okay (It's okay). You know I love you anyway. You don't have to run and hide away. It's okay. Its okay. Its okay. Its okay."

Backwards Walk - Frightened Rabbit

I wrote a very long Best Song Ever (album edition) about the album.

“I'm working on my faults and cracks. Filling in the blanks and gaps. And when I write them out they don't make sense. I need you to pencil in the rest. I'm working on drawing a straight line. And I'll draw until I get one right. It's bold and dark girl, can't you see. I done drawn a line between you and me. I'm working on erasing you. Just don't have the proper tools. I get hammered, forget that you exist. There's no way I'm forgetting this. I'm working hard on walking out. Shoes keep sticking to the ground. My clothes won't let me close the door. Cause the trousers seem to love your floor.”

Go Your Own Way - Fleetwood Mac

“Loving you. Isn't the right thing to do, How can I ever change things. That I feel? If I could. Baby, I'd give you my world. How can I. When you won't take it from me?”

Guilty Party - The National

"I say your name. I say I'm sorry. I know it's not working. I'm no holiday. It's nobody's fault, No guilty party. We just got nothing. Nothing left to say."

The Trapeze Swinger - Iron and Wine

“But please, remember me, my misery. And how it lost me all I wanted. Those dogs that love the rain and chasing trains. The colored birds above their running. In circles 'round the well and where it spells. On the wall behind St. Peter's. So bright on cinder gray and spray paint "Who the hell can see forever?"

Holy Shit - Father John Misty

“Oh, and love is just an institution based on human frailty. What's your paradise gotta do with Adam and Eve? Maybe love is just an economy based on resource scarcity. But what I fail to see is what that's gotta do with you and me.”

A More Perfect Union - Titus Andronicus

“I sense the enemy, they're rustling around in the trees. I thought I had gotten away but the followed me to 02143. Oh, woe, woe is me, no one knows the trouble I see”

Be Honest - Craig Finn

“Her body was an outpost for ideas that didn’t work. A nation failed and broken, invaded and then burnt. And the crumbles and the ashes that settled in her purse. Were the ruins of an empire and the people we once were.”

“The ruins of an empire and the people we once were. If revolution is really coming, then we all need to be well. So maybe it’s just best if we both take care of ourselves.”

Raining In Baltimore - Counting Crows

“This circus is falling down on its knees. The big top is crumbling down. It's raining in Baltimore, fifteen miles east. Where you should be, no one's around. I need a phone call, I need a raincoat. I need a big love, I need a phone call.”

All My Love - Noah Kahan

“Write me a list of how it is, of how it was, of how it has to be. You burrowed in under my skin, what I'd give to have you out for me. I still recall how the leather in your car feels. And at the end of it all, I just hope that your scars healed. We once sang. Retrograde, we'd shake the frame of your car. Now I know your name, but not who you are. It's all okay. There ain't a drop of bad blood, it's all my love.”

Stay Positive - The Hold Steady

“There's gonna come a time when the scene will seem less sunny. It'll probably get druggy and the kids will seem to skinny. There's gonna come a time when shes gonna have to go. With whoevers gonna get her the highest. There's gonna come a time when the true scene leaders. Forget where they differ and get big picture. 'cause the kids at their shows, they'll have kids of their own. The sing-a-long songs will be our scriptures.”

Present Tense - Pearl Jam

“You can spend your time alone re-digesting past regrets, oh. Or you can come to terms and realize. You're the only one who cannot forgive yourself, oh. Makes much more sense, to live in the present tense.”

God Speed - Zach Bryan

“Well, I wanna send a post card. From the edge of a place I've never been. And I wanna make love hard. Under the stars in the back of a beat up ol' K-10. And I wanna love a girl who. Doesn't worry about the pictures when we kiss. And wake up one day and not be so hit and miss. Lay in bed all day and call that shit pure bliss.”

The Long Road - Pearl Jam

“And the wind keeps rollin', And the sky keeps turning gray. And the sun is set...The sun will rise another day.”

Check out the playlist below on Spotify. Or click here for Apple Music.