a collection of things that make me laugh, smile or hungry.
because my natural face is bitch face
Studio Ghibli, sans Miyazaki, but plus Jonsi.
It’s ironic that I love lists more than most things in life, and yet have never been able to bring myself to make a top 10 album list. As sometimes I love a particular album for a particular time for a particular reason, when I finalize my list, it will be in no particular order.
Currently in the rough draft phase. Stand by for the dramatic conclusion….
Dear Manchester Orchestra-
Thank you so much for the incredibly moving evening. Thank you for sharing your songs with me. Thank you for being amazing. Thank you.
worry about everyone but me and I just keep losing myself..
can’t not lose it every time i hear this.
long live secret dance night.
my plans for the night.
me, this guy, and music by broken social scene.
Growing up with a dad who was the biggest music nerd I had (and will ever) know had its perks. However, after years of being
brainwashed educated by the likes of such progressive rock professors as Rush, Styx, Kansas, and Yes, my youthful brain was longing for an generation-appropriate outlet. It was on a family vacation in Boston when my older cousin said to 9-year old me, “If you remember anything from this trip, remember this song.” Then he proceeded to play me The Sweater Song. And my life was never the same.
That same year, same trip, same cousin played me this album, and I literally lost my mind when I heard it for the first time. I begged him to play it every free moment we had access to a tape player. I had never heard anything like it, and yet it felt like my very being had taken music form and was speaking to me through the Harmon Kardons. Like a sponge, I soaked the chords and lyrics in, knowing that upon my return home, my mother would never let her 9-year old daughter listen to songs about masturbation, let alone an album with a title literally synonymous with shit.
Middle school soundtrack. All day every day. Just me and my big brothers. Going to shows. Playing laser tag. Being awesome.
I literally woke up to “Hey” every day of my 8th grade year. Consequently, it might have been the best year of my life.
Most cool people would list Through Being Cool at this time. Well, I’m not cool.
I still say the best day of my life was when I bought this album. Yes, it’s a compilation, but it was mine. It was the first album I owned and loved that wasn’t recommended by one of my older, more musically educated friends. It gave me a plethora of bands to research and subsequently obsess over. It gave my junior and senior years of high school a soundtrack.
This album was my secret best friend for years. I never wanted to share it with anyone. I never wanted to sing it with anyone. It was like a warm and wonderful cacophony of sounds and lyrics filling pages of my mind’s diary.
One of those albums that makes you believe they could never make anything that could top it. In my humblest of opinions, they never did.
If you’ve ever been a girl and had a real best friend, this requires no explanation.
The first album I listened to with “fake” instruments and didn’t hate. Responsible for opening my ears to music beyond chord-heavy punk and pogo-jumping pop-punk.
Castaways and Cutouts (2002)
The Crane Wife (2006)
You can be a sailor with scurvy AND make amazing music?!? Colin Meloy, come pillage me.
Our Endless Numbered Days (2004)
The Shepherd’s Dog (2007)
Making me swoon since back when it was mostly just Sam Beam and his wife strumming along. But the added acoustics of later releases still bear resemblance to his untarnished and beautifully-bearded soul.
Everything All the Time (2006)
Cease to Begin (2007)
Feel good singalong band who won my heart the first time I saw them live.
Study times. Makeout times. Reflecting on life times. Good times.
No Girl’s Night Out would be complete without pregaming in the car to this gem.
We started Secret Dance Night at the Wave. This album was the soundtrack to my every Wednesday night for years.
I’m Like a Virgin Losing a Child (2006)
Mean Everything to Nothing (2009)
Simple Math (2011)
For being a new band, they speak to my soul like I’ve known them my whole life. These albums became my pulse; my blood flow.
If I didn’t loathe Conor Oberst with so much of my being, I could easily award a spot to a mess of their albums (1998, 2000, 2002, 2005). I should really award this to Dashboard Confessional to be spiteful. But, truth be told, this sad motherfucker and I spent a lot of time crying together in my insanely depressed college years. So for that, he deserves a nod.
See Post #90s #Daily List Post #Dance Dance #Late 90s #awesome music #hardest list i'll ever have to make #indie #indie pop #longest post ever #music #pop music #pop punk ftw #ska punk shhh #me
I remember the first time I heard this song. It was on a mixed CD given to me by an older friend in college*, and at the time, I had never heard anything like it. Not embarrassingly enough, the most angsty-emotional music I had heard prior to Bright Eyes was Dashboard Confessional. And that’s only because they were played on the late-night indie rock radio show (which I secretly listened to every Sunday night). Keep in mind, I was still in high school, and the slots in my three-disc CD changer had been occupied by the same Dropkick Murphys, Suicide Machines, and Atticus compilation CDs for over two years. So the real surprise wasn’t so much that I was exposed to him, but that I even gave the whiny asshole a chance.
Initially, I remember being extremely put off by his voice. “He sounds like a damn sheep,” are the exact words I said to my journal. Yet, I grew to simultaneously loathe him and want to BE him. To experience whatever the hell he went through to sing so damn painfully that I, a virgin suburbanite teenager who had never tasted a drop of an illegal substance or felt the pangs of a true broken heart, could be reduced to tears by a bleating voice coming through the hardened foam of my earphones.
But onward I sailed on the Saddle Creek ship, where I eventually docked in college, when the time and the place were finally just right. I started living. I experienced love. And firsts. And true loss. So much loss, in fact, my mental state took a dive off the deep end into an empty pool. And At The Bottom of Everything, there he was. Ready and waiting to catch me in his scarred but soft, wooly arms.
*College- the time when everyone should first be exposed to Bright Eyes. If music were given a rating system, I would easily slap an “R” on most of Conor’s wallowings, given the current hypersensitive state of America’s youth. Considering the extremes to which kids are taking what should be a standard teenage bad day/ heartbreak, I would fear the potential of the mind of the overly-impassioned or despondent youth whose ears are exposed to the early ramblings of Oberst.
but soft! what sound through yonder speaker breaks!
the trumpet makes a subtle yet triumphant return!
ska kids rejoice!
gus van sant
teenage love plagued by impending doom of terminal illness
tonight’s perfect movie formula
up beyond late and cracked out on some awesome happy jams