About a week ago, I made my way downtown on a particularly eerie Tuesday night. Since the hostile takeover of the Kennedy Center, I had recently decided to move my patronage of musical theater, and purchased season tickets to the National Theather.

This worked out for me quite well, since the National Theater this season was playing The Book of Mormon, a show I’ve been wanting to see for quite some time. In my season ticket bundle, I also added a night for Stereophonic, a 2024 Tony Award-winning play.

So, on a Tuesday night, I jumped on a bus that took me straight down 14^th street and dropped me off nearly outside the door of the theater in about 30 minutes.

The National Theater is about a block or two from the White House. And this particular Tuesday night happened to correspond with the State of the Union—a fact which I seemed to have forgotten somewhere between the morning and my bus ride later that night. Security was high, and secret service cars lined the blocks between my destination and the executive office.

But a night at a show felt like a good distraction from whatever was happening on the American stage, just a few miles away from me.

Stereophonic is a play with music—not a musical! — about a fictional 1970s band recording their second album, exploring the creative and personal tensions that threaten to break them apart as they approach superstardom.

Does that sound familiar?

Well, that’s because the play is not so subtly based on Fleetwood Mac’s recording of their second album Rumours, a recording session that has been well-documented and elevated into rock and roll mythology.

The general backdrop of the story intrigued me. The entire play takes place inside a recording studio—one mostly set in Sausalito, California. Every scene, drama, conflict, interaction, takes place within those walls, and we, the audience, are mere bystanders as it unfolds. We are like the coworker who only hears bits and pieces of their colleagues’ personal dramas after they’ve lived their entire lives outside the office. One day (or scene) a couple is breaking up, the next, they’ve gotten back together. We don’t get to witness the breaking or reconciling first-hand, because why would all that occur inside the walls of a recording studio?

Despite the awards and recognition, the play seems to be having a rough national tour (at least here in DC). My particular show was more than half empty (perhaps everyone wanted to stay home for the State of the Union?). In fact, I was given a new seat from the mezzanine to the third row of the orchestra. The staff told me this was because of an obstructed view for my seat, but group after group was given new tickets and moved to the ground level. The entire second row in the center orchestra was empty during the performance.

The national tour for Stereophonic is called a “radio-edit,” running just under three hours, with intermission. This seemed like a normal night at the theater to me. But many online forums found this runtime to feel too long and tedious, “like nothing happened.”

I think perhaps the first point of confusion for most people is that Stereophonic is not a musical, despite it so heavily promoting its music. The original score is composed by Will Butler of Arcade Fire. Trailers for the show highlight the songs. And there are several song-heavy scenes. However, the show is first and foremost and dramatic play.

This was a fact that even I was confused about, up until about a few weeks before I went to see Stereophonic. I had convinced myself the show was going to be a musical, so I can understand the confusion. But I do think knowing this was going to be a play really put me in a different mindset, and aligned my expectations.

As for the rest, I did not find the show boring. I enjoy music, the making of music, the nerdy, nitty-gritty experience of putting together a record. I enjoy stories that are more about getting to know characters, rather than some big, dramatic plot unfolding. So, the fly-on-the-wall experience really did work for me.

The part that did feel bit tiresome to me was the thinly veiled representation of Fleetwood Mac. In the play, the band at the center of the drama consists of 5 members, 3 British and 2 American. The Americans came into the group as a couple, and are a couple at the start of the show. Two of the British members are married, but breaking up, then getting back together, then breaking up again. The band mate who is also producing the album has a complex with one of his brothers, who just so happens to be an Olympic swimmer and is competing in the Montreal Olympics during the first act of the play. As I later discovered, Linsday Buckingham’s brother won a silver medal at the Mexico Olympics in 1968.

But I think this is why people are drawn to Stereophonic. After the play, while I waited for my bus, a group in their 20s spent nearly half an hour talking about the show, who was who, and how their stage characters compared to their real-life counterparts. The man sitting next to me at one point during intermission said to his wife “Oh, the Lindsay Buckingham character.”

There is a strong desire to watch this show and say, “oh I know this person.” You already feel like you know their backstory and what will happen next.

To me, this was a distraction. The off-brand Fleetwood Mac drama might pull people into the room, but at the end of the day, it just feels like you couldn’t get the life rights to the story you wanted to tell.

I would have much preferred a show that while still may be inspired by the band and their hit record, instead had characters that had internal conflicts of their own. I don’t need to see a 1:1 representation of Stevie Nicks or Christie McVie. A band going through growing pains as they experience superstardom is interesting in its own right.

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Funnily, that same week, I hosted another vinyl listening party to the theme of Lovers & Haterz in honor of the month of love. Rumours, being a classic album about the tumultuousness of love, was on my playlist.

The album, all on its own, tells us a story. It perhaps gives us some insight into who these people were, the kinds of relationships they had, their conflicts. I can understand the draw to know more—to create a sort of fantasy or fan-fiction about what it must have been like to be there through it all.

This is not to say I didn’t enjoy Stereophonic. In the end, I think I enjoyed it more than most, or at least more than the comments I find under the paid advertisements on Facebook.

The art we create, while certainly holding something near the truth, is also a kind of fiction. I don’t need this pretend contextualization of the album to give me insight into what happened during the making of that record. I can read about it firsthand.

When it comes to Rumours, I think I’d much rather sit in my living room, and let the record play.

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Listening bars originate in Japan, with the first being founded in the 1920s. It was a simple tearoom with chairs facing a wall of speakers, “a theater for music.”

The concept boomed in the decades that followed, and it eventually made its way to the US, nearly 100 years after the first one opened in Japan. Some of these bars will serve high quality cocktails, and some keep their menus simple to avoid distraction from the listening experience. But the central idea of the experience is to sit and listen to music.

As a fan of music and high quality cocktails, my partner and I have taken almost any opportunity we can to find a good listening bar. Whenever we travel to a new city, I can count on him to have found some semblance or claim of a vinyl bar experience. We’ve had mild success with our adventures. While we’ve been to some very excellent listening bars, more often than not, we find the overall experience to be lacking.

Many bars seem to care little about the actual listening part of the listening bar. Instead, the bar will rely heavily on dark lighting, luxury seating, and $20+ cocktails. Sound is drowned out by the din of first dates happening around me, clanging glasses, shuffling bodies. My peers seem more interested in the vibes than the high quality sound system we all had been promised.

In contrast, one of my favorite listening bars in Oakland, Bar Shiru, has strict rules in order to keep the listening aspect of the bar central to the overall experience. Parties are limited to less than 6 people, and you are not supposed to speak louder than the audio. These rules are printed on the front of your cocktail menu.

So, I had an idea. I have a vast record collection, a decent sound system for my space, and I enjoy hosting people. What if I put together my own monthly listening party, where I curate a handful of records around a theme, serve drinks and food, and get everyone together to hang out and listen to records?

At the end of January, with help from my partner, I soft-launched my first own personal listening bar house-party.

We loosely themed the night “city pop influences and backing bands,” a nod to the origins of the listening bar.

City pop is a genre of pop music that originates in Japan during the 1980s, associated with Japan’s economic boom and rise of the leisure class. City pop was influenced heavily from American genres such as funk, disco, R&B, and soft rock. In fact, many American bands, such as Earth, Wind, and Fire, or Tower of Power, served as backing bands for city pop records.

I had already started to put together a great lineup of records in my mind, convinced I had certain artists in my collection. However, once I actually started to dig through each album, I realized I did not in fact have any of the records I was actually looking for. So, the theme of the night became a bit looser in interpretation.

Here are the albums we listened to, and how they are tied to the city pop theme.

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The Heat Is On by the Isley Brothers

The Isley Brothers had a big influence on city pop, especially for the band Sugar Babe. Sugar Babe’s song Down Town, was an homage to If You Were There, from the album 3+3. When you listen to the songs back to back, you’ll see the similarities are uncanny.

Disco Connection by Isaac Hayes Movement

The southern soul artist Isaac Hayes also had an impact on the city pop sound, and Hayes even helped compose the 1991 song Come On In for artist Masayuki Suzuki.

Hotter Than July by Stevie Wonder

As it turns out, Stevie Wonder himself actually produced a city pop album. The record Love Life was released in 1986 by artist Cindy.

You can listen to the entire album on YouTube.

Minute by Minute by the Doobie Brothers

I ended the night with some classic yacht rock. As far as I’m aware, the Doobie Brothers did not have any direct connection with Japanese city pop. No albums produced or songs written. However, the yacht rock sound is undeniably part of the city pop sound. And similar to the Isley Brothers, you can hear odes to the Doobie Brothers in other songs.

Rush Hour by Toshiki Kadomatsu has an incredibly similar intro to What a Fool Believes, which was featured on the 1978 Doobie Brothers album Minute by Minute.

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It was a successful first night. And I hope to keep the momentum going in the months to come. Stay tuned for more liner notes from future listening bar experiences.

The other night, I tried to leave my house to go to a dance class, but after climbing the snowy peaks that are the sidewalks of DC, my plans were thwarted when after waiting 30 minutes in sub 20 degree weather, the bus never arrived. I’m spending my 8th day mostly at home, unable to even take my trash out, because my back patio has turned into an ice rink.

So, excuse my northern hemisphere-centric attitude, but I love when a fun, upbeat, summery record is released during the dead of winter. Listening to this record, I feel the icicles shake off my skin, and my bones start to defrost. I can forget that I’m currently sitting in what feels like zero degree temps, and instead imagine a world where I’m sweating on the dance floor.

The Venezuelan Rawayana band kicks off this album with the greeting “Rawa wishes you a happy new year, and may those sons of bitches finally leave.” With the album being released on January 1, 2026, I’ll leave it to you to figure out how apt that ended up being. Still, I think this is the energy we should all have going into the new year.

My favorite song on the album is La Noche Que No Habia Uber.

Roommates by Hilary Duff

When I was younger, I loved the show Lizzie McGuire. When she started to crossover into pop music, you can bet that I owned the album Metamorphosis, and listened to it non-stop on my purple Walkman CD player. I’m sure that to this day, I could sing along to every song and still know all the words.

So, when Hilary Duff announced her return to music, I was cautiously optimistic. Now, after two singles, I think I still remain cautiously optimistic about what the full album will actually sound like. So far, Duff’s new songs rely a bit more on nostalgia for Hilary and the early 2000s than they do on the evolution of a former child actress turned pop star. I don’t quite hear a distinct sound or voice from her just yet. In particular, the single Roommates feels like it’s grasping at the sound of a former Taylor Swift era.

But I want to stay open to the possibility of something interesting from her upcoming record, which is being released later this month. Perhaps, the nostalgia is keeping my hopes up as well. More to report when the full album comes out.

Ridin’ by Cuco

Last week, I went to an exhibit on lowriding culture at the National Museum of American History. So, it’s appropriate that I decided to add this album to my queue this week. While Cuco is a Zoomer, bedroom pop artist, this album plays homage to the lowriding classics of yore. Cuco described the record as an ode to Chicano soul.

In the song Seems So, Cuco interpolates the song Hello Stranger by Betty Lewis, showing us his ability to create something new and refreshing while still building on a classic foundation.

This record has been a great soundtrack for the cold winter nights. Now, if only I could excavate my car from the feet of solid ice that currently encapsulates it, and take my little Yaris for a cruise with this on in the background.

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I’ve been thinking a lot about how to make my musical writing habit (and writing more generally) more sustainable for myself so that I can consistently share my thoughts and recommendations about music. The most straightforward idea that came to me is to simply share a list of what I’ve listened to each week.

This effort goes hand-in-hand with me trying to spend more time personally curating my own listening experience and relying less on the omnipresent and omniscient algorithm. In fact, this week I created a Tidal account in the effort to move away from Spotify.

I’ve yet to migrate any playlists and the emptiness of the new platform is both liberating and also kind of terrifying. What do I want to listen to? What album pops into my mind when I can no longer rely on hyper-specific playlists based on my listening patterns (i.e. laurel canyon sandalwood thursday night)?

I’m trying to focus more on listening to full albums, exploring decades, finding strange songs, digging deep into my vast knowledge of music, and then digging deeper into unknown caverns and seeing where these explorations take me. I also plan to listen to new releases, and I have a huge vinyl collection that I’m attempting to catalog.

I hope to write about all this and more as it comes to me. But for now, I think at the very least, you can expect me to just tell you what I listen to on a week-to-week basis, and maybe help you find something new to listen to as a result.

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What I Listened to This Week

moisturizer by Wet Leg

I’ve thought a lot about the state of rock and roll in our current era of pop culture. Rock is certainly no longer the most popular, nor mainstream genre. Reggaeton, Latin pop, and the like have taken over the radio and culture. And in the midst of all that, where does rock stand? What does rock even sound like these days? Well, I think it sounds a bit like this. This is a solid rock album that I think gives us a glimpse into the next phase of rock music—whatever that may be.

Tether by Annahstasia

I stumbled upon this record because Obongjayar’s 2025 album Paradise Now is one of my favorite albums from last year. In my attempt to be my own algorithm and make my own networks of musical discovery, I found Tether because Obongjayar is featured on the song Slow.

This record took a little time to grow on me. The music is folksy and bare, letting the warm and soothing vocals take center stage and shine fully. This is a solemn album—slow, steady, poetic. It’s an album for cold days, rain falling against windows, and cozy nooks.

Ella by Ella Fitzgerald

I stumbled onto this album because I heard the cover of Savoy Truffle and was totally confounded by it. I’ve listened to Ella Fitzgerald my whole life, but I only associate her with the Great American Songbook—I Can’t Get Started, Lullaby of Birdland, etc. Hearing her sing a cover of a Beatles song left me feeling topsy-turvy. But I wanted to know more and so I explored the entire record. Released in 1969, Ella is filled with pop and rock songs from the 60s. This may leave you feeling out of sorts in a kind of out-of-time/other worldly kind of way, but it’s also incredibly fun!

Alec Mansion by Alec Mansion

I can’t explain it, but it turns out that I really enjoy a funky, synth-pop album in another language—preferably in a romance language. This record is groovy. It makes you want to dance. Listen to this record and suddenly it’s 75 degrees outside, the sun doesn’t set until after 8pm, you have an aperol spritz in hand, and you’re in your favorite city in the world without a care in the world.

Post-War by M. Ward

This year, I’m revisiting some albums that were released in 2006, and are now hitting their 20-year mark. In 2006, I was moving from my freshman year of high school to my sophomore year, and I was still developing all my tastes and interests that would solidify into the person I am today. While I certainly had some of the seeds that would bloom into my twee era, I did not actually start listening to M. Ward until I was in college. About 3-4 years after Post-War was released, I’d start listening to (and obsessing) over She & Him. And then one year for my birthday, a friend bought me Post-War on CD. I actually still own this CD, and it’s currently sitting in my car since that’s the only place where I can even play a CD anymore.

While I didn’t start listening to this record until a few years after its release, it is foundational work for my developing musical tastes. My music knowledge and curiosity expanded greatly during those years, and this is one of those records that helped shape that period for me. Relistening to it is like getting to revisit a younger version of myself.

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Since then, I’ve heard more and more people use this phrase, and now a term that did not exist to me just a mere 2 years ago, seems to be everywhere these days. Although maybe that has something to do with the fact that I simply know many more 33-year-olds than I did 2 years ago.

As it turns out, I recently started my Jesus Year. Yes, that’s right. I turned 33.

What do I imagine a Jesus Year should entail?

• Gain 12 followers (Well, hopefully more, but given my sporadic nature on this platform 12 wouldn’t be so bad).

• Perform a miracle (any interpretation of this will do).

• Turn water into wine (I have made my own amaro before. Does that count?)

• Be betrayed by a friend (I will now start looking at all my friends very cautiously these days).

• Be reborn (self-growth and self-discovery, baby!)

Before I turned 30, lots of people around me who had already crossed the threshold, had only positive things to say about their 30s. And now that I’m firmly on the other side, I couldn’t agree more.

I’m sure this has a lot to do with my particular circumstances. Single woman. Living in a city. Few responsibilities. But being in your 30s feels like the independence of being in your 20s but with more confidence, more freedom, more enjoyment. I know myself better. I’m less afraid of things. I care a lot less about what the people around me think.

I’m not sure what 33 will bring in terms of life and death. Hopefully, it’s all metaphorical.

Music for a Jesus Year

So, what does one listen to as they are mentally preparing themselves for a Jesus year?

Last year when another friend of mine turned 33, she asked me to put together a playlist for her party. And I love a specific theme. So, I relished in the task of finding as many god-related songs as I possibly could.

You can listen to this divinely inspired party playlist here.

I have to be honest though. This wasn’t my first time putting together god-related playlist.

I have an Easter playlist. Although a friend told me this was much more reverent than she was expecting it to be.

I have a non religious-religious-concept playlist that is not really made for a birthday party experience. This is music that generally references god, the divine, heaven, or hell in some kind of way. The vibes are all over the place.

I’ve made a playlist of songs that compare love with religious experience.

You are my church.
You are my place of worship.
—Kali Uchis in Melting

Although I can’t seem to find that one and I may have deleted it in an attempt to clean up my Spotify library. But you’ll just have to imagine it.

There’s just something about songs that reference the divine or spiritual experience without being a “worship” song that really speak to me. I’m sure it has something to do with my religious upbringing.

Needless to say, I think I’m incredibly equipped to build the soundtrack of my 33^rd year, miracles and betrayals included.

But if you have any favorite religious-but-not-religious or uses-god-or-the-divine-as-a-metaphor songs, let me know! I have a playlist or two that I can add it to!

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What I’ve Been Listening to This Week

Learning to love: Tate McRae by Switched on Pop

I rather enjoy Tate McRae, or at least her big singles. And I feel like this episode of Switched on Pop captured exactly what I love, and also what I find lacking in her music. I think it’s a good primer too if you’re trying to understand who she is or how she became famous. Also, many people have commented on this episode that it’s too mean, and maybe it’s because I’m a certified hater, but I just think it’s a very good and critical take.

Gasoline by Obongjayar

I have no desire to see the F1 movie. But this song from the soundtrack is a certified banger. Obongjayar’s album from this year, Paradise Now, is also incredibly good, fun, and upbeat, and I’ve been listening to a lot of that!

Music by Benny Sings

In preparation for my upcoming Euro trip, I’ve been researching artists from the Netherlands. Benny Sings popped up in this search and this 2021 album has been on heavy rotation for me this week.

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Now, it feels impossible to find new artists and albums, even when we have the entire history of music right at our fingertips.

Lately, I’ve been looking for new routes and pathways to get to albums I may never have explored before. I intentionally go on tangents or trails that could lead me to something special.

A couple weeks ago, I went down a musical rabbit hole of my own making and uncovered a lovely little bit of music history. One morning, before I started my workday, I put on the 1977 album Patti LaBelle from my vinyl collection. I am obviously familiar with who Patti LaBelle is, but I can’t say that I am deeply intimate with her discography.

After listening through the album, I decided to read up on the history on this particular album. The 1977 self-titled album was her first solo album, after having been the lead singer for the band Labelle. At this point, Patti LaBelle had already had a lengthy career.

After reading a little bit about LaBelle’s history, I decided to check out some of her other albums, particularly from the group Labelle, via the streaming library. When you scroll through the band page, one of the first albums that appears in their discography is a 1971 album called Gonna Take a Miracle by Laura Nyro and Labelle. The record is filled with covers from the 50s and 60s and Labelle serves as backing vocalists.

I was completely unfamiliar with Laura Nyro—I had never heard her name before. But I decided to explore her page to see what else she had done. Her most played songs included Stoned Soul Picnic, Eli’s Comin’, Wedding Bell Blues—all songs that I know well. But I had never heard any of these versions.

Nyro was a singer-songwriter who wrote several songs that would become hits by other artists in the late 60s and early 70s, including those mentioned above.

I was captivated as I uncovered the writer of many songs that I grew up listening to. My family used to have a Three Dog Night greatest hits CD that we played on repeat, and now I learned that Laura Nyro was the creator of Eli’s Comin. And apparently in junior high, she played an early version of this song in music class to prove to her teacher that rock and roll “wasn’t junk.”

Nyro dated Jackson Browne. She helped care for Pattie LaBelle’s child while LaBelle was suffering from postpartum depression. Nyro just seemed so central to these musical traditions and sounds that I love, and yet I had never heard of her before. And in some ways, her story reminded me of Carole King, another female songwriter, but whose name I’m deeply familiar with.

I read this excellent article that dives deeper into Nyro’s personal history, influences, and impact of her career.

Now this history feels like something that I probably never would have stumbled on if I had just been listening to my normal playlists. I’m not sure that I would have even gotten here in a recreation of my nostalgic digital discovery days. No, this could only be revealed through sheer curiosity, opening one door, to the next, to the next.

I can only encourage following the rabbit holes of music curiosity. You truly may never know what you will encounter. A new song. A new band. A writer of some of your favorite childhood tunes. There is no limit to what you will stumble upon, as long as you continue to engage an inquisitive mind.

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What I’m Listening to Right Now

Imaginal Disk by Magdalena Bay

This album came out last year, but I must have missed it. I’ve been listening to it a lot these days, particularly Image and Love is Everywhere. It’s groovy and playful.

Switched on Pop: Empress Of asks for your consideration

In attempting to clear my podcast queue, I listened to this episode of one of my favorite podcasts featuring artist Empress Of. I’ve been a big fan of her for many, many years. It was interesting to hear her approach to music and to putting together albums. It actually made me revisit her most recent album, For Your Consideration, from 2024. I don’t feel like I had given it enough attention when it first came out, but this episode gave me a new appreciation for it. Empress Of has a very special way of incorporating various genres and sounds into her work—something that we’re seeing a lot of important and popular artists do right now.

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DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS by Bad Bunny

Last newsletter, I mentioned that I’ve been listening to the new Bad Bunny album on repeat. Each time I listen to it, I discover something new to love. It has a way of drilling into your brain, and you just want to live there. This is going to be the perfect summer album, and I can’t wait to blast it from my car with the sun shining on my face. Seriously, if you have not listened to it, go do that immediately.

Listen on Spotify

NGL by JoJo

I have a soft spot in my heart for JoJo. Her first two albums came out during my tween years. I loved her music then, and as I grew up, I eagerly waited for her to release more. JoJo had been in a long dispute with her record label, which caused a lack of control and endless delays to creating new music.

But I’ve been peripherally following her music for a while, listening to the morsels of new songs as they were released. I was even supposed to see her in the spring of 2020. I had purchased the tickets, only for the show to get pushed so many times because of the pandemic that it was eventually cancelled.

JoJo has a pretty traumatic and heart-wrenching life story. One that I read about earlier this year in her book Over the Influence. I’m not sure I loved the way the book was written, but I enjoyed learning more about her life, her career, her struggles within the music industry. And I will continue to listen to her albums and support her music, probably out of that nostalgia I feel from when I first listened to Get Out and Too Little Too Late.

Also, a little tidbit for everyone, but while JoJo was in a dispute with her record label (and they weren’t releasing her older albums on streaming services), she re-recorded and released her first two albums as an adult. This was several years before Ms. T Swift would do the same thing. It’s really interesting to hear those songs being sung by an actual adult. Not only has her voice changed and matured, but the thematic content of the songs works much better.

I enjoy revisiting her music with all this context, understanding where she tried to fit in creative, and where she was stifled to try to fit into the image that the people around her wanted to create for her.

Listen on Spotify.

Mayhem by Lady Gaga

I know it’s been said, but Lady Gaga is so back. Although did she ever really go anywhere?

This album has everything: disco zombies, Gaga giving a cream related Prince reference, Gaga giving Michael Jackson. It’s such a good time and harkens back to Gaga’s early days. These days, I think we all need a little fun in our lives and Mayhem is a great way to get there.

Listen on Spotify

Astropical by Astropical (Bomba Estéreo and Rawayana)

I completely stumbled upon this album one Friday morning, March 7, after searching for new releases. I recognized Bomba Estéreo and decided to give it a listen. And after a few songs in, I knew that I had found something special.

The album consists of 12 songs, each with an astrological theme. It’s vibrant, energetic, and a lot of fun. I know that I’ll be playing this a ton throughout the spring and summer months.

I also read a really excellent NPR write-up on the making of the album, history of the two bands behind Astropical, and their political roots.

Listen on Spotify

So Close To What by Tate McRae

My ultimate feelings on this album are still out. I was really excited to listen to it when it was first released. The singles leading up to this album are so good. Both It’s Okay I’m Okay and Sports Car are reminiscent of early 2000s pop, hitting that perfect mix of nostalgia and contemporary for me.

But when it comes to the full album, I feel like something is lacking. I find a few of the songs interesting, but nothing captures my imagination the way that the singles do. I press play on the album, excited for what’s to come, and by the end, it has faded into the background, and I haven’t noticed how many songs have passed.

I think it’s still worth giving it a try. And if nothing else, you should listen to the singles.

Listen on Spotify

For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women) by Japanese Breakfast

I’m not entirely certain if I fall into the category of melancholy brunettes. I think I did in my youth. But at this stage in life, it probably depends on the day.

For the last few years, I have been pretty anti- “sad girl music.” These days, I just don’t need dozens of albums by various women singing the same sad acoustic song. Life is already sad enough. I don’t know if I need to wallow in it.

But Japanese Breakfast has often been an exception to this rule. Perhaps it’s because her last album Jubilee was much more joyful, a delightful reprieve. And while the title of this album targets the morose, it certainly doesn’t leave me wallowing.

Funnily enough, I think I may be the “happier women” she refers to in Winter in LA

Loves the sun
And California days
Sweet and warm
Like winter in LA

Listen on Spotify.

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What are you listening to these day? What should I add to my list?

Playlist of the Month

I’ve been feeling so uninspired lately when it comes to making playlists. But, the last two weeks, I’ve been hard at work to make a new spring-themed playlist! So, if you need something else to listen to, here’s a nice, sweet, hopeful ride.

Aging Out of Music

At what age did you feel like you aged out of music, if that moment has happened for you yet? That is to say, at what age did you realize that you were not the target demographic of new music being released? I have in some ways been making this realization for several years. But I’ve really tried to try to stay on top of new releases, especially in the last couple of years. Each Friday, I would scan through new albums, trying to listen to as many as I possibly could, accumulating a playlist of thousands of songs made up entirely of new albums from that year.

But I eventually realized that no amount of new albums could keep me attuned to pop culture. The brutal fact is that I am no longer part of the demographic that pop culture is catering to.

I regularly attend dance classes where we learn a short routine to pop songs, both new and old, although they veer towards the new. I’ve been doing this for the past few years, and I usually pick classes based on the songs that we’ll be dancing to—often songs I know and love. But on a particular Friday, I decided to join a class that I did not know the song for. I just wanted to get out of the house and move my body.

And while I didn’t know the song, I thought I was familiar with the artist. The night before the class, I decided to listen to the song to familiarize myself with it. The song was Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae. But when I put the song on, I was incredibly confused. This did not sound at all like what I was expecting. Was this the song that had the music video with the girl being arrested? People online were joking that they couldn’t understand what she was saying…? Her last name was Rae. Right?

Wrong.

The song I thought I was going to hear and dance to is in fact It’s ok I’m ok by Tate McRae, a completely different artist. And in my revelation of this fact, I felt so incredibly old. I could imagine some Zoomer somewhere rolling their eyes at me for confusing these two artists, merely because their names both had “rae” in them.

But it didn’t stop there because I went to that dance class and I was probably the oldest person in the room, aside from the instructor, who herself said she felt a little silly choreographing the routine because the lyrics are so young and innocent and out of place for her current stage of life. And I learned that 45 seconds of choreography in a room full of 20-somethings who all knew every single lyric, and clearly felt so deeply connected to the song.

But I too felt like our instructor, unable to connect with the music. I think partly because the lyrics are so juvenile, and partly because I don’t think musically it’s a very good song. But the plain and simple fact is that the song came out of a pop machine targeted at those 20 somethings in the room, a demographic that I no longer belong to.

I will say that I think Tate McRae—the artist I thought I was going to hear—is probably also targeting that demographic, but I do rather enjoy her music, likely because of the clear references to the early aughts in which I grew up.

In all honesty, it’s been exhausting trying to chase all the new releases. I felt like I was always listening to something new. I didn’t get to sit with all the music I did enjoy, and most importantly I didn’t get to enjoy all the music from year’s past that I loved (I have a theory that Spotify’s constant updates are partly to blame but more on that at a later date).

As I entered 2025, I’ve wanted to focus more on revisiting older albums, discovering music that interests me, no matter the year it came out. I’m learning how to lean into this aging out of the desire for newness, for chasing the high of the next best thing. Even the concerts I’ve prioritized are veering into the “dad rock” category. The Vampire Weekend show I went to last fall was already full of salt and peppered 30 somethings with their young children.

I do think the timing of this aging experience is particularly poignant. I was 27 when the pandemic started. This year I’ll be 33. It feels like going to see a movie in the afternoon, and when you come out, it’s completely dark outside. You’ve missed the sunset.

Perhaps aging has always felt like this. To just wake up one day and suddenly realize you’re no longer the youngest person in the room—a feeling that I took for granted for most of my life.

But music is timeless. It’s an endless well. And we can continue to be nourished by it at any stage. And that nourishment is what I’m focused on for 2025.

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What I’m Listening to Right Now

Bad Bunny

In case you didn’t know, Bad Bunny released a new album earlier this year. I’ve listened to it on and off over the last few months, but I really started to play it nonstop within the last couple of weeks. I think because the weather has started to warm up and this feels like a summer album to me.

I also highly recommend listening to this podcast as a primer for the album.

Lady Gaga Does Prince

Lady Gaga also released a new album this year, which I’ve been listening to nonstop. In particular, I’ve had the Prince-inspired Killah on repeat. While you’re at it, listen to the “Gaga does MJ” Shadow of a Man.

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What have you been listening to lately? Let me know and share any music recommendations or ideas for future newsletters!

The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess by Chappell Roan

Okay so this album actually came out in 2023, and despite at least two people around me highly recommending it, I didn’t actually start listening to it until this year. But I haven’t been able to get enough of this record since my first listen. This is upbeat, borderline hyperpop, totally bonkers, and dancey. Chappell Roan is having a bit of a moment right now, and for good reason. I suggest you get in on the moment now.  

Cowboy Carter by Beyonce

If you haven’t listened to Cowboy Carter yet, I’m not sure what you’ve been doing. This is undoubtedly the most important record that will come out this year. Beyonce has delivered many powerful records in the past few years, but this is her most impressive yet. From top to bottom, every song is a hit. This record has been described as Beyonce’s country album, but it’s more than that because Beyonce is beyond genre. Beyonce has only continued to evolve and transcend from her debut in the early 2000s and it’s so clear, there’s so much more to come.

Only God Was Above Us by Vampire Weekend

People love to hate on Vampire Weekend. But I will defend them to the end! If Vampire Weekend has a million fans, I am one of them. If Vampire Weekend has one fan, I am that fan. If Vampire Weekend has no fans, then I am dead. Truly, if you think Vampire Weekend is just cutesy songs about universities and horchata, then you haven’t listened to their music in at least 10 years.   

To me, Vampire Weekend is at their best when they’re dealing with issues of god, religious experiences, and existence. These themes combined with the band’s use of baroque pianos and 80s influences is really what gives them their unique sound. Only God Was Above Us add something more, an almost hazy filter reminiscent of Pet Sounds.

More in-depths thoughts on this record to come, I think.

Deeper Well by Kacey Musgraves

Deeper Well is a lovely little folk album about growing up, moving on from the past, and developing hope for the future. I have a lot of thoughts about how Golden Hour, Star-Crossed, and Deeper Well all fit together to tell a complete story of growing up, but I’ll save that for another day.

For now, you should enjoy these enchanting and often deeply emotional songs. I have nearly cried to Giver/Taker too many times this past week.

Orquideas by Kali Uchis

Latin music, in particular reggaeton, has risen to become not only part of the mainstream, but really dominated mainstream popular music in the United States. In Orquideas Kali Uchis uses this moment to deliver a tour of Latin music, highlighting the breadth and depth of the history of Latin music. This is Uchis’s second Spanish language album and one where she really gets to show her love for her culture and musical influences.

Bonus content: I listened to a really excellent episode of Switched on Pop that dives into these topics even further and would highly recommend checking it out.

The Past Is Still Alive by Hurray for The Riff Raff

I’ve been listening to Hurray for the Riff Raff casually for the past few years, but this record really brought everything together for me. While the band is based in New Orleans, something about this record just makes me feel like driving through the Southwest in the summer. This record is short and driven, and will keep you coming back for more.   

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What albums have you been listening to this year? Send them my way! I’d love to know what you’ve been listening to nonstop.

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I recently hosted a dinner party at my house. Normally for me, half the fun of throwing a party is getting to create the playlist. But since my partner wasn’t in town and couldn’t help with the bar tending or menu development, I didn’t have much time to actually put together the musical ambience for the night.

Instead, I thought I’d just focus on my record collection. Again, under normal circumstances, I probably would have pre-selected a few albums to play over the course of the evening. Instead, I just let people explore the collection and pick whatever they were drawn to once an album ran its course.

I will not go into depth about the conversation that led me to put on Tapestry by Carole King. It was a series of thoughts stemming from VBS, Boygenius, Taylor Swift, and Joni Mitchell. If you know me well enough, you can probably fill in the gaps.

But we landed on Carole King, and specifically Tapestry. So, when the next musical pause came, I found the record and let the needle drop.  

I do not remember specifically when I bought this record, but it still has a price tag from Rasputin’s, marked for $1.95, which means I likely picked it up sometime in college. $1.95 seems like a steal, even for the 15 or so years ago when I bought it.

I cannot overstate Carole King’s impact on pop music. In fact, I did a quick Wikipedia search just to confirm some of her songs, and even I was blown away by her actual songwriting credits. King started songwriting professionally when she was 17. Since then, she’s written songs such as Chains, The Loco-Motion, Take Good Care of My Baby, Up on the Roof, One Fine Day, I’m into Something Good, Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow, and of course (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman.

But King didn’t record her own music until the 70s. Tapestry is her second album, released in 1971 and includes King’s versions of Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow, and (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman, as well many of her now iconic songs (It’s Too Late, Where You Lead, etc.). Tapestry was a success and spent 15 consecutive weeks at number one on the US Billboard 200 and nearly six years charting the Billboard 200.

And it’s no wonder that I feel like most people have some kind of special memory with this album, or King’s music in general. These songs were something I grew up listening to, my mom singing along. This feels like a nearly universal experience.

I’ve been thinking a lot about musical history and tradition, and how music gets shared and passed down generationally. Perhaps it’s easier now to get siloed into one particular genre or era of music, with little consideration for where it stems from–to never really know the roots or history, the inspiration for your favorite artists. And when you’re young, you assume that something you heard or discovered must be the first of its kind, or even that an artist who started 15 years ago is foundational.

But there is no female singer-songwriter who doesn’t owe her career to and who wasn’t influenced, either outright or inadvertently, by Carol King. And her music itself is still meaningful, still resonates across that generational divide. Just a girl and her piano, singing her song.  

For a bit of some weird life coincidences, the same week I started writing this, I watched the movie Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains, which as it turns out is directed by Lou Adler. When I to do some more research about Tapestry, I discovered that this record was produced by Lou Adler. In fact, there is a scene in the movie where the aunt and her friend shush the proto-punk rock girl to turn up the radio and sing along to King’s Will You Love Me Tomorrow, which was released on Tapestry. I told you, this was a near universal experience.  

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For my cat friends, here’s a cute little piece of trivia. The album cover shows King sitting on a bench beside a window, holding a tapestry hand-stitched by herself, with her cat, named Telemachus.

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I’ve never been a huge fan of spring as a season. I love summer, and the winter holidays. I always felt like spring was just another season to slog through until I got to the one I really liked. Since moving to the east coast, my perception of the seasons has changed. I know everyone likes to rag on California for not having seasons, but I’d argue if you lived there long enough, you’d gain a concept of seasonality that just looks and feels different. But seasons on the east coast are stark. The budding of spring is real and when you come out of a bitter winter, a little glimmer of warmth is something to rejoice in, something to cling to with all your might.  

So, today with all this in mind, I share a little playlist to help capture and capitalize on the bits of warmth, sun, and good moods that come with ushering in of a new season.

I’m sure after I write all of this, we’ll have another week of bitter cold before it actually starts turning warm. C'est le printemps!

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On a related note, I am taking commissions for new playlist ideas. Please send me your prompts, weird and wonderous!

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Of course, things have changed a lot since October 2019. Even has venues started opening up again, I was not eager to jump back into the concert game. In addition to the threat of germs in closed quarters, one of my biggest hesitations about picking up my concert game was not having a buddy to come with me. In 2020, I moved across the country and while I certainly have established a little community in my new home, the fact is that I’m just not surrounded by the same always-down-concert-going pals.

The first time I went to a concert alone, it was kind of by accident. I had bought two tickets to see Haim and convinced my boyfriend to come with me. But he was struck down with COVID just days before the show. I knew I wanted to see them live and instead of just selling both tickets, I decided to go by myself and brave the awkwardness of standing alone in the general admission section.

Honestly, this was way outside my comfort zone. I love having a buddy with me. Someone to chat with through the downtime. Someone to grab drinks with before and after the show. Someone to save your spot when you run to the bathroom or go to grab an overpriced beer.

Even now, after having gone to a fair number of events alone–musicals, movies, concerts–I’d still rather have a buddy with me. But what I’ve come to realize, and what ultimately motivates me, is that the awkwardness of standing around alone is certainly not worse than missing out on something I really wanted to experience just because I didn’t have someone to go with.

Besides, the truth is that I know no one is paying attention to me. Why should I feel awkward if no one is feeling awkward about me?

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So, I had all this in mind when I saw that Margaret Glaspy was playing in DC a few weeks ago. I didn’t even think twice or try to find someone to join me. I just knew that I wanted to see her play and I bought a ticket for one.

When I was younger, I used to insist on getting to a venue right when doors open, often waiting in the line that wrapped outside the venue just a few minutes before opening time. This was in large part because I am so short and needed to stake my claim to a location where I could visibly see the stage.

Glaspy was playing at a smaller venue–an experience I’ve realized I enjoy much more than large stadium tours. So, I thought I’d arrive just around the start of the opener, and stave off the awkwardness of waiting around by myself. I was sure that I could find a spot with a decent enough view, wiggling my way through the crowd since I was only one person.

While grabbing a beer, I briefly made conversation with a woman at the bar, who kept running small glasses of water back and forth from the water cooler in the corner to a group of teens standing in the front row. Upon first meeting, she looked like any cool Gen X-er, with long half-grayed out hair, a nose ring, and tattoos. Perhaps in an attempt to apologize for cutting in and out of the crowd, she later explained that she had brought her kids to their first all-ages show, giving them space, while also continually checking in on them and providing refreshments as needed. I’m sure they will not appreciate this until they are much older.

Something about me, I will always give the opener the attention and respect they deserve. I simply just cannot ignore when live music is playing right in front of me.

The opener, Mieke, was a girl-fronted rock band that took me back to my teen and pre-teen years. I suppose some things never change, like the sound of girl angst set to electric guitar. Meike’s closing song Jesse has stuck with me still these many weeks later.

In between sets, I noticed an older gentleman behind me pull out his Kindle to read while waiting for the music to start again—something I’ve done in more formal venues, like an opera house, while waiting for a show to start. I think he may have been a teacher, because two younger teens approached him with reverence to say hello at the end of the show.

Then Glaspy took the stage. It’s hard to describe her presence. She is small, has a crisp long bob, and looks like someone who might sit in the cubicle next to you. But the second she opens her mouth, her vocals cut through the room. She instantly sets herself apart from the opener (who was excellent for the record). She is not fronting a garage rock band. She is a capital M musician. A singer. A performer.

Part of what has drawn me to Glaspy’s music is her vocals. They are rich, deep, with a gravely quality—a stark contrast from her delicate appearance. And when you see her live, you’re able to appreciate it all the more. She reaches for big notes, filling the space with little effort. She intertwines large vocal swells with softer, sometimes spoken melodies.

During a particularly heartfelt and quiet moment of the show that featured only Glaspy and her guitar, a rather loud mummer started to arise near the bar. This caused multiple concertgoers, including myself, to turn their heads to try to find who the culprit was behind the chatter. A guy behind me breathlessly muttered, shutthefuckup, as we all stared, trying to shame the group of talkers. Of course, they never once looked up or noticed the public shaming that was happening. I’m not sure they even noticed the concert that was taking place. I will never understand people who go to concerts, only to chat through them, a worrying trend I’ve noticed more and more as I’ve reentered the concert scene.

Glaspy was touring for her latest album Echo the Diamond, which came out last year. Prior to this show, I had not really listened to it that much. I knew it existed but kind of flew under the radar for me.

In honesty, I had fallen in love with her record Devotion, which came out in March of 2020—the worst time to release an album, as she pointed out. But Glaspy is one of those performers who gives you new appreciation for their work after seeing them live.

Since the show, I have revisited Echo the Diamond. A solid rock album in an age where rock is dwindling. You’ll be able to gain an appreciate Glaspy’s unique vocals throughout this record. And when you’re done, I hope you dive deeper and listen to Devotion as well.

I will continue to go to concerts by myself. But if anyone wants to join me in the future, just let me know!

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In the opening credits, you’ll be informed that the music for the film is Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2. This naturally indicated to me that the piano concerto would be the main soundtrack of the movie. But despite my many years of piano education, this particular title by Rachmaninoff held no significance to me. I could not easily place it by the title alone. I thought perhaps I might recognize the music as it played throughout the movie.

And of course, in a particularly desperate and romantic scene of the movie, I heard the concerto loud and clear in the background. I did recognize it. But I couldn’t quite place my finger on it. It was familiar, and I felt like I knew it from somewhere specific. I sort of hummed along to see if my brain would naturally fill in the rest of the musical phrase.

The tune continued to burrow through my mind until, similar to Cher Horowitz in the movie Clueless, I had an epiphany. I bring up Clueless because there is a scene where after Cher discovers that her protégé Tai is in love with Cher’s stepbrother (we ignore that part), Cher goes out shopping. She is wandering the city, miserable, trying to make sense of her feelings, and why shopping doesn’t seem to help make her feel better. She walks in front of the Electric Fountain in Beverly Hills and right as the water show starts, she has the profound realization that she is in fact in love with Josh. The song that is playing in the background is All by Myself, originally by Eric Carmen, eventually covered by Celine Dion, and in this scene in the movie is sung by Jewel.

It then became clear to me. The musical theme in Brief Encounter reminded me of All by Myself. Of course, it was not actually All by Myself, because that song came out in 1975. I let this sit with me as the movie continued on. I debated whether I was noticing a similar chord progression, a happenstance of similar notes descending that defined both melodies. I thought it would be odd for a 70s soft rock song to sample Rachmaninoff.

I did not immediately pull out my phone to find the answers. I was enraptured in the movie itself and despite my brain now belting out “All by Myself” during every quiet and intimate scene between these two unrealized lovers. I tried not to let the music distract me.

Of course, after the movie I started on what I assumed would be a deep dive. Would I find the answers I was looking for? Had others noticed this similar theme?

Well, as it turns out, the answer was actually quite simple. I pulled up the Wikipedia for All by Myself and within the first paragraph, “The verse is based on the second movement (Adagio sostenuto) of Sergei Rachmaninoff's c. 1900–1901 Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor, Opus 18.”

I was not just hearing a similar chord progression or happenstance of notes. The soft rock 70s ballad actually sampled Rachmaninoff.

All by Myself features a lengthy piano solo and Eric Carmen was looking for a song to fit it into. After hearing the Piano Concerto No. 2, he decided to write the verses around some of the themes of the concerto. At the time Carmen wrote the song, Rachmaninoff’s music was in the public domain in the United States, but it still had a copyright outside of the US. So, Carmen had to strike a deal with the Rachmaninoff estate, after the song’s release.

I find it quite amusing how a piece of music can take on new life and meaning with each reinterpretation. Apparently, the concerto itself gained quite a lot of popularity during its original release by Rachmaninoff. And of course, it gained new or revived recognition with its prominent feature in Brief Encounter. And now, my only exposure to Piano Concerto No. 2 is through a 1975 rock ballad, one that I probably first heard as a cover by Jewel in the movie Clueless.

The piece has been so translated, embedded with meaning, reinterpreted, and recontextualized, that now, I watch a movie from 1945 wondering if these two strangers will ever become lovers, and I can only hear All by Myself playing in the background—a song that will not have been written for another 30 years.

Are there other songs like this? Ones that have traveled through time, gaining newer and newer popularity while being stripped of their previous context. I’m sure there are plenty.  

And what’s next for Rachmaninoff? Does Piano Concerto No. 2 end with All by Myself? Has it reached its peak of recognition? Or who will sample All by Myself, strip that song of it’s original context, and continue the chain?

I encourage you to listen to both songs side by side. I also encourage you to watch Brief Encounter—absolutely gut-wrenching. Hopefully now with this warning, you won’t be caught off guard when you start to anticipate Celine Dion to start singing in the soundtrack.

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So, before 2024 really kicks into high gear with new music, here are some albums I recommend with a few tasting notes to help you figure out where to get started.

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• AudioLust & HigherLove by SG Lewis

  Groovy, synthy, electro-pop

• Bless This Mess by U.S. Girls

  Groovy, for fans of Jenny Lewis

• Bobbie by Pip Blom

  Indie rock-pop, reminds me of a particular band that I can’t quite put my finger on.

• Endless Summer Vacation by Miley Cyrus

  I unironically love Miley and her voice

• falling or flying by Jorja Smith

  Absolutely lovely R&B vocals with clear Caribbean musical influence

• A Fistful of Peaches by Black Honey

  Rock music isn’t dead

• Follow the Cyborg by Miss Grit
  St. Vincent-like, futuristic rock

• GUTS by Olivia Rodrigo

  Excellent angsty teenage rage, pop-punk throwback.

• I Am The Dog by Sir Chloe

  Fun, rock-driven melodies

• Internal Affairs by Buzzy Lee

  Steven Spielberg’s daughter makes really good music. One of my favorite albums of the year.

• Jaguar II by Victoria Monet

  R&B, listen to On My Mama on repeat.

• Javelin by Sufjan Stevens

  Sufjan finally told us his songs are both gay and about Jesus. Listen if you want to feel incredibly depressed but like in a good way.

• The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We by Mitski

  My Love Mine All Mine is one of the best love songs probably ever written (I do not say this lightly)

• Leaving by Fran

  Mellow, guitar driven indie rock

• The Loveliest Time by Carly Rae Jepson

  I also unironically love CRJ (as should everyone). She is the current queen of pop.

• Lucky For You by Bully

  90s throwback, listen to if you like Sheryl Crow

• My 21^st Century Blues by RAYE

  I think the album title gives you a pretty good sense of what you’re getting into, contemporary R&B. My favorite song is Mary Jane.

• Small Town Temple by Ella Hooper

  Folksy acoustic rock. Does Americana well, even though she’s Australian. Gives Jenny Lewis vibes, but in a different way than the U.S. Girls album.

• That! Feels Good! by Jesse Ware

  Sexy, disco vibes

• This Is Why by Paramore

  Not your teenage pop-punk and one of my favorite albums of the year

• Through and Through by Baby Rose

  Sultry vocals, feels like sticky honey

• When I Hear Your Name by Maeta

  90s R&B vibes. I’m obsessed with the song Cool Cat, only to discover it’s a Queen cover.

Happy Listening!

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So, I will not be sharing any sort of top 10 list of the year.

Instead, I offer something slightly different. Today, I’m sharing a playlist of some of my favorite songs from the past year. Some of these I listened to a lot, couldn’t get out of my head, couldn’t escape no matter where I turned. Some of them I stumbled upon as I explored new albums and flagged as they piqued my interest.

These 100 songs are very loosely ranked but can be listened to in any order. I hope that you find something new that you enjoy. And if you hear a song that strikes your fancy, I suggest taking a listen to the album it’s from. Many of these were just my favorites from an album I enjoyed. So, if you hear something you like, there’s bound to be more of where it came from.

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Next week, I plan to share not my favorite albums of 2023, but albums from the year that I think are worth listening to.

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A couple weeks ago, I asked you all for your suggestions for a new playlist, one that captures the feeling of living in the moment, of being grateful for the little things around you. And you all really delivered. I got so many great suggestions! One particularly overachieving friend sent me her own 52-song playlist inspired by my original prompt.

It was so great to listen to all your recommendations and discover (or re-discover) music both new and old. Some of your were even on the same wave length because a few of you even sent in the same songs. In My Life, You’ve Got a Friend, and All My Friends were just a few songs that were sent it by multiple people.

I’ve compiled most of the suggestions I received here, along with a collection of my own picks to round out this playlist.

I hope this gets you through a short workday today (if you have one) and a lovely holiday weekend.

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My teenage years were spent listening to K-EARTH 101, the local oldies station. I was obsessed with music from the 60s, particularly British invasion rock. That era of music is still something that I hold near and dear to my heart. I can sing along to many of the major hits.

But as I’ve gotten older, my musical tastes have also aged. I am now proudly in my dad-rock era. I understand dad-rock means something different to everyone, largely because everyone’s dads are different ages. Mine was a 70s rocker.

So, it’s perhaps no surprise that 70s rock, pop, and easy listening tend to be my comfort music these days. It’s something I can put on and feel completely at ease. I know I’ll like it.

It’s no wonder that my first three albums of this series are from the 70s. The Sergio Mendes album was released in 1975, the Malo album in 1972, and now Hearts by America, released in 1975.

Hearts is the fifth album by America, who is perhaps best known for their song A Horse with No Name. The album consists of 12 songs and runs just over 36 minutes. Hearts was recorded in Sausalito, California and produced by George Martin, who is best known for his work with the Beatles. I will save my Beatlesmania for another day, but Martin’s style comes through clearly on this record, and I’m sure that it is no small part in why I really enjoy this album.

I undoubtedly purchased this particular album for my collection because it includes Sister Golden Hair—a song that has held a special place for me during many emotionally dramatic periods of my life. It feels weird to talk about now, probably because it always feels weird to reflect on our past selves, but I’m sure we all have songs we like to listen to when we want to indulge ourselves in our despair. Sister Golden Hair specifically has gotten me through many lovelorn days.

Well, I keep on thinkin' 'bout you
Sister Golden Hair surprise
And I just can't live without you
Can't you see it in my eyes?

There is not one specific subject of affection that I think of when I play this one. In truth, I have used it in many contexts, day-dreaming about someone who will just not give me the time of day. This is a song you listen to when you want to feel sad, when you feel like all you deserve are morsels of attention.

Will you meet me in the middle?
Will you meet me in the air?
Will you love me just a little?
Just enough to show you care?

Fortunately, I’m past the state in my life where I want to bask in the feelings of unrequited love. I listen to this song now in moderation, rather than as a repetitive prick to a fresh bruise. To be honest, I actually can’t remember the last time I sought this song out. And truth be told, listening to this song gives me a slight pang of embarrassment. Not because I don’t think the song is good anymore. No, this song is still incredible. Rather, now, as I listen, I am reminded of those days in the past, of men I once cared about so deeply, of feeling so helpless. I look to my younger self thinking, you silly girl, your life is so much bigger than this.

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But the positive to owning Hearts on vinyl is that now I can explore and appreciate all the songs on the record. And this record is full of that 70s easy-listening dad rock that I personally have come to love. In my opinion, every song on here stands out on its own. So, if you’re like me and dad-rock helps you self-soothe, and you don’t want to hear the same 15 song recommendations from Spotify, then I suggest you explore this record.

Before I end, I wanted to share a random fact that I learned while reading about this album. Apparently, the album cover was designed by Phil Hartman, who was a graphic designer before he went on to become a comedian and actor.

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Music has always been my way of processing my emotions. If I’m feeling angry, sad, scared, whatever the emotion may be, I use music and the process of making playlists as a way to work through those feelings

For this week’s newsletter, I thought it would be a fun idea to build a playlist together!

Naturally, I’ve already started building playlists around the feeling of leaping into the unknown and all the stress that comes with that. And given that there is an upcoming holiday, I thought that instead of concentrating on the uneasiness that comes with being a human, it would be a good idea to focus on the here and now, the things that ground us, and the things we’re grateful for in life.

So, I’m asking you all, dear readers, for your help. I’m looking for your suggestions on songs that make you feel thankful, make you appreciate the things in your life, or just make you feel centered in general.

Reply to this email or add a comment, and I’ll compile all your suggestions along with some additions of my own and release a new playlist in a couple weeks, just in time for Thanksgiving.

I had toyed around with the idea of going to Graceland. In fact, before I landed in the city, I was pretty certain I’d spend one of my free days making pilgrimage. But once I learned about the Stax Museum of American Soul Music, I knew I had a much harder decision to make.

The truth is I’m not a diehard Elvis fan. I’m a fan of the song Graceland by Paul Simon. And of course, I can appreciate who Elvis was and his impact on music and culture in general. I envisioned an Instagram post with a photo of Graceland, with the caption, “I've reason to believe we all will be received in Graceland.”

But the reality is that I’m much more interested in and regularly listen to soul music. I know many of the artists and songs that came from Stax Records. So, instead of paying $50 to walk the hallowed halls of Graceland, I paid $15 to dive deeper into the history of American soul music.

Stax Records was founded in 1957 in Memphis, Tennessee. The museum is located at the original location of the recording studio, although the studio itself was torn down in 1989. Stax was pivotal in creating the Memphis soul sound. The house band for the recording studio was Booker T. & the M.G.'s. Some of the artists who recorded with Stax include Otis Redding, Carla Thomas, The Staple Singers, and probably their biggest star Isaac Hayes. One of my favorite facts about Isaac Hayes was that he joined Stax because they were looking for a temporary replacement for Booker T Jones while he was at college.

I also learned that Stax artist Rufus Thomas has a park named after him in Porretta, Italy, where they host the Porretta Soul Festival every year.

Stax records ultimately went bankrupt in the mid-70s and everything in the building was sold off. A piece of wood from the original piano hangs in the recreated recording studio space. The piano had been signed by all the artists who had made their way through the studio, and that small bit had been salvaged and saved, now left to decorate the walls.

After making my way through the exhibits, which included Isaac Hayes’ Oscar for Shaft as well as his gold-plated Cadillac, I knew I had made the right choice to skip out on Graceland.

But don’t worry. I still got my dose of Elvis on my trip. Immediately following my trek through Stax, I made my way to Sun Studio.

Sun Studio was opened by Sam Phillips in 1950 in Memphis, Tennessee. Sun Studio is perhaps best known for being the studio that discovered Elvis. It is also the location where Rocket 88, which is considered the first rock and roll song, was recorded—a fact that was repeated to me several times during my stay in the city.  

Sun Studio is a decidedly smaller museum experience, with only 2 rooms to explore. After learning about the history of the studio and record label, we got to go down to the recording studio, which is set up the way that Phillips had designed and is still used as a recording studio today. A woman in an Elvis dress pushed her way to the front of the so she could touch some door handles that we were told Elvis himself would have used.

Aside from Elvis, blues artists like Howlin’ Wolf and B.B. King recorded at Sun Studio, as well as artists like Roy Orbison, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Johnny Cash.

Apparently before Elvis, Phillips was actually most interested in making blues records. He initially wasn’t that impressed with Elvis. It wasn’t until about a year after Elvis first recorded at the studio that Phillips took an interest in him and only after Elvis started singing That’s All Right—a blues song—during a recording session.

Music still fills the modern city of Memphis. If you stroll down Beale Street, you’ll have your pick of blues halls and juke joints that continue to host live music every night, the sounds of Memphis overflowing onto the sidewalks.

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In honor of the musical legacy of Memphis, I’ve put together a playlist inspired by the city. These are songs both about the city and from the city itself.

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I used to go to a lot of concerts. In 2019, just a few months before the pandemic started, I saw Jenny Lewis and Vampire Weekend just days apart from each other. But, partly because of large crowds, and partly because of the rising costs— and probably a little bit because I’m not in my 20s anymore—I haven’t managed to keep up my pace of concert-going.

A couple weeks ago, I’m not sure why, my partner and I were discussing Devendra Banhart. “He has a new album out this year,” I said. A few days later, I got an email from a local venue that he was playing in my city in a few days and tickets were still available. I texted my partner and he responded, “Always down to clown with Devendra.”

So, on a Saturday evening, we rolled into the Howard Theater to see Devendra Banhart tour for his new record Flying Wig.

Devendra Banhart is a Venezuelan-American singer-songwriter. Banhart’s first record was released in 2002, but I started listening to Banhart in about 2009. I’m pretty sure I got an album or two of his during a group music exchange in college. The kind where you sit around a table and put tons of music you owned onto a thumb drive and handed it off to someone to copy onto their computer—the early 00s method of music discovery.  

Since then, I’ve been listening to his music pretty steadily over the years. Once, in about 2012 or 2013, Banhart played once on my college campus at the university art museum. I can’t remember if I had made it in time to catch a bit of the concert or just catch a glimpse of the man himself.

During the show in Washington, DC, Banhart aroused a similar kind of wistfulness in me, that nostalgic pang you get when you look up and realize that maybe you aren’t as cool as you once were, maybe you’ve gotten a little old.

Banhart played songs off of the new album, but also explored his 20-year discography. After he announced that he was taking requests, audience members shouted their favorite tunes in hopes that he would play them.

Banhart has 3 criteria for what requests the band would take:

1. Any song he wrote

2. Any song that had ever been written

3. Or any song that had yet to be written

He playfully inserted snippets of past music throughout the set, often forgetting chords or lyrics to songs he said he hadn’t played in ages. He made up silly ditties on the spot, singing about leather jackets, or whatever else passed through his mind.

Flying Wig itself is rather sedate, and to be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from the show. I anticipated a rather dreary and somber, albeit still lovely, evening. But I found myself unexpectedly charmed by the frontman’s goofiness. Banhart was light, silly, and eager to let the audience be part of the experience.  

My personal favorite moment of the show came when he performed a cumbia cover of Aaliyah’s Try Again. It was mostly cumbia with the lines “If at first you don’t succeed, pick yourself up and try again,” repeated over and over again.  

In the end, Banhart gave us the decision on how to end his set—somber, slow, sad, relevant to the state of the world, or a disco party. We all chose the disco.

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I recommend listening to Flying Wig, when you’re in a soothing, meditative mood.

I also highly recommend listening to his 2013 album Mala, which has many of my favorite songs of his.

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