up first, the reason for the season: some songs i spent a lot of time with in 2024. i started a playlist at the beginning of the year, regularly added and subtracted 2024ish songs to/from it over the course of the next twelve months, updated it with things spotify wrapped reminded me i couldn’t stop playing, and now i’m gonna listen to it nonstop to ease myself out of this year and into the next.
a sampling:
touch it dayo bello
you ain’t the only one mary j. blige
crown billie marten
samurai lupe fiasco
yes, and? ariana grande
all my life my heart has yearned for a thing i cannot name cold gawd
act of god gossip
the mood: you just finished sucking the last bit of gristle from the thanksgiving chicken, your cheeks are blushed with a thin patina of cranberry geleé, you’ve sweated your clothes sheer, somehow there’s gravy in your underpants, and you suddenly find yourself overwhelmed by the urge to dust nutmeg and pine needles on everything. MUST BE HOLIDAY TIME. which means it’s time for weird christmas, a playlist i started in 2018 that has ballooned into 796…797…798… songs and that is absurd but thankfully so are the selections.
a sampling:
me la gozo entera cheo feliciano
sleigh ride tlc
christmas skank papa michigan
sympathy 4 the grinch 100 gecs
just to be with you mighty blue kings
winter wonderland goldfrapp
i can hardly wait for christmas the o’jays
the situation: it’s early afternoon. the sunbeams through your window bathe you in warmth. your house is quiet, you’re cozy in your favorite armchair, you’re yawning. the TV remote is too far away on the coffee table, but also it’s embarrassingly early to go to sleep. you decide to read!! YOU KNOW HOW TO READ!!!!!!! but reading with no ambient noise makes you feel like you’re in a padded cell. you can’t listen to classical music when you’re reading because it feels downright fucking preposterous, like you’re pretending to be a smart person in a movie when you are decidedly a dumb person on this earth. and you can’t listen to familiar songs with tons of words because you will inevitably start singing and stop reading-comprehending. i have a work-in-progress playlist called good background noise for times such as this!
a sampling:
dide o kokoroko
low sun hermanos gutiérrez
tea leaf dancers flying lotus
those days dal
cali peaches meryl street
now it’s your turn to sing lizette & quevin
queens highway menahan street band
the dilemma: you usually try to listen to podcasts in the morning because you find the drone of a monotone human voice very soothing and it also feels like your best passive learning hours are shortly after you wake up/before the fresh horrors of the world can make themselves known to you, BUT: you got shit to do. the dog has to be at dog school before they take attendance, the best time to get a fasting blood draw is with the other senior citizens at the crack of dawn, and you think you’ve got it worked out that the most bubbly and inquisitive of all the trader joe’s checkout people is rarely there before noon, and you’re gonna need a lil 70s/80s groove to bounce to in the car to get through your errands. good morning!
a sampling:
nights (feel like gettin’ down) billy ocean
haven’t you heard? patrice rushen
let no man put asunder first choice
shake your pants cameo
i want to thank you alicia myers
think it over cissy houston
the setting: it’s a sunday snowstorm, there’s stew on the stove, you took a shower and changed from your night jammies into your daytime jammies and you’re counting the minutes until it gets dark at four o’clock and it feels socially acceptable to put the night ones back on. this is safe and cozy hours, this is snug as a bug in a rug hours, this is cupping a steaming mug of tea with both hands hours and it is desperately screaming for an equally homey soundtrack. it’s chilly out and you’re eating hot slop out of a bowl with snowflakes printed on it and by the way where are your warmest slippers?
a sampling:
stay in love minnie riperton
evergreen (you didn’t deserve me at all) omar apollo
no easy way down barbra streisand
keep your faith to the sky willie scott & the birmingham spirituals
for the love of you parts 1 & 2 the isley brothers
fancy clown abstract orchestra
didn’t i darondo
someday julia jacklin
the energy: you just finished sucking the last bit of gristle from the thanksgiving chicken, you’ve already hit the daily limit of acetaminophen your doctor recommends, your cheeks are blushed with a thin patina of cranberry geleé, perimenopause got you sweating your clothes sheer, somehow there’s urine leakage (courtesy of your weakening pelvic floor) dribbled in your underpants, and you suddenly find yourself overwhelmed by the urge to dust nutmeg and pine needles on all the supplements you have to take to keep your bones dense. MUST BE HOLIDAY TIME FOR A BITCH OF A CERTAIN AGE. which means it’s time for smooth santa, a seasonal playlist for young senior citizens who can appreciate kem and smokey robinson and lou rawls.
a sampling:
god rest ye merry gentlemen take 6
i’ll be home for christmas al jarreau
o tannenbaum/sleigh ride dave koz
my favorite things anita baker
christmas through your eyes gloria estefan
angels we have heard on high vanessa williams
santa baby herb alpert
better than snow norah jones & laufey
the vibe: it’s 130am and you’re awake, in the dark, stoned to your bones. fried, baked, loaded, tripping. every reel you scroll past is high art; every meme the funniest meme you ever saw. your head feels like cotton candy and your blood is made of ocean. you look in the mirror and see the swirly-eyed wiggle lip emoji staring back at you. wait, is that inky shadow in the corner of your eye the ghost of your dead cat or a pair of noise-cancelling headphones? your fingers are made of glitter, your toes are made of sparkles, and all the regular stuff in your room suddenly looks terrifying. SIGH OF RELIEF, IT’S HEADPHONES. which is cool because somehow you can feel every hair inside your ear canal vibrate individually and thinking about how good some spooky bass would feel inside your head sends a shiver up your spine so you hop on a rocket and take a quick trip to outer space.
a sampling:
stay soft mitski
paralyzed washed out
do better ab soul
let’s go to trader joe’s dana and alden
i’ll hold issy wood
one mo’ gin d’angelo
long life love stereolab
the emotional state: you’re feeling weepy and nostalgic. your left knee aches when it rains. you say shit like “why are those kids over there out of school?” you wake up at 2am. and at 330am. and then again at 5am and decide to just say fuck it and get up and start your day. you eat soup now and tell your dining companion you’re going to “keep it light” because you “had a big lunch.” you’re always looking for a fucking mailbox. you google the medicines they advertise on TV. your homegirl just posted a picture of a nineteen-year-old person to whom she gave BIRTH. “where did the goddamn time go?” you ask yourself as your rapidly-graying hair falls out in clumps, pushing your progressive lenses up from where they’ve slid down your nose so you can squint through the bottom third (+2.25) to decipher the fine print at the bottom of the carton of ensure you’re having for breakfast. you’re old as hell, man. that cool and fun person you used to be doesn’t exist anymore, and the one you are now is gobsmacked that your teenage nephew doesn’t know who liz phair is.
a sampling (of my exact vibe in the late 1900s):
tear in your hand tori amos
a small victory faith no more
manifest destiny jamiroquai
700 mile situation res
mad lucas the breeders
mixed bizness beck
the emperor’s new clothes sinéad o’connor
rub til it bleeds pj harvey
the move: it’s your turn to make dinner. not a problem, you’re a great cook and you just got a grocery delivery yesterday and there’s a new caroline chambers recipe chilling in your inbox, just waiting for its opportunity to make you look if not like an absolute domestic goddess, at the very least a capable adult who can feed yourself on a thursday night. you bust out your battered le creuset and grab your sharpest knife to do your mise en place and everything is going smooth except why are there no tunes in here? you can’t make chicken fricassee with only your gurgling stomach for company??? you need some jams you already know the words to that you can yell over a melody while trying not to microplane your fingers off, and kitchen music is perfect for exactly that.
a sampling:
when i think of you janet jackson
sussudio phil collins
back to life (however do you want me) soul ii soul
feels good tony! toni! toné!
(hey don’t you think you should stop shoulder shaking for a second and stir that one pot that’s about to boil over??)
shake your rump beastie boys
it must have been love roxette
no diggity blackstreet
(hello??? the oven timer is beeping???? shouldn’t you check on that?????)
one on one hall and oates
i’d die without you pm dawn
me myself and i de la soul
walk like an egyptian the bangles
sowing the seeds of love tears for fears
(by this point you’ve already burned your dinner because you can’t stop zumba dancing across the kitchen so fuck it we ball)
how will i know whitney houston
controversy prince
people everyday arrested development
(the entire kitchen is engulfed in flames, you are going to collapse from smoke inhalation any minute now, etc etc)