I enjoy putting together the annual “My Year in Music.” However, I think I enjoy combing through various year-end lists more, looking to find what I’ve missed. Most of these lists aren’t all that helpful, but it’s interesting to see what albums emerge as media darlings. This year Boygenius’ Record seems to have been a favorite, and I think that’s a good thing. The lists I’m looking for are the ones that dive deep into some area of music – I’m looking for specialists.
This year I want to draw attention to the albums that sustained me. I found myself struggling to let albums work their way in. I made lots of playlists to curate moments. Honestly, quite a few albums I was highly anticipating on faith and promise of the advance songs disappointed me upon arrival. But over a year, something is bound to break through.
Dark Night, No Soul. This year, the playlist is upfront. I want you to hear these songs; they shake me. They all live on great albums. Truth is, 2022 was a good year in music for me. There were dozens of albums released this year that I’d recommend you hear. I played them plenty often. I like them quite a lot. But the albums that made this list were the ones that carried me and my household this year. A few of them have snuck in, recent surprises. I suspect they’re seasonal crushes, but maybe it’s more, and anyway, a seasonal crush is very representative of this year. The playlist just leans heavy on the fall.
It’s something of a tradition for me to write up my year in music, which then gives way to a second tradition of combing other year-end lists looking for things I missed or didn’t give enough of a chance. It’s always educational, even if I don’t find any new favorites. Fortunately, this December has been particularly good to me, and I’ve heard ten new-to-me albums that I think are worth your attention. In each description below, I’ve included a link that tells you a little more about the album. There’s an accompanying playlist at the end.
In the midst of all that this year has been, music remained my refuge, as it always has. I spent a lot of the year making Spotify playlists, a type of mental fidgeting, a productive distraction. But with so much time at home, I listened to a lot albums, and a number of them many times over. Here are the albums that shaped my year in music:
I envy those who have a knack for picking up languages and the discipline to learn them. I fear I lack the knack and know I lack the discipline. I console myself with the fact that English, my native tongue, is a strange one with endless fissures that hint at its deep multicultural underland. It keeps me occupied. However, on occasion, I read something in French (the only other language in which I know more than a few words), and I feel compelled to return to the original and translate it into my English. What sparks that compulsion is different each time.
Today is the last class of Winter 2017. To celebrate, I thought I'd share the playlist that's been keeping me company over the last few weeks. It takes its title from Leif Vollebekk’s "Into The Ether." I’ve had his Twin Solitude on repeat. Think of this playlist as a companion piece to Vollebekk’s album. Imagine the playlist as roots music on land and under the water. Hope you enjoy it!
My “Year In Music” doesn’t say anything about what was important in 2016. If it did, then Beyoncé would be #1, followed closely by several other powerful hip-hop records: A Tribe Called Quest, Chance the Rapper, Common, Solange, and Blood Orange. But this list isn’t about important things; it’s a record of what I was listening to in 2016. This year, I didn't seek importance from music; I sought solace. I understand why people turn to music when the world is in upheaval, when they sense a darkness descending upon us. In fact, I'm often one of those people, but for some reason, this year, I didn’t. Perhaps it was because of my necessary turn toward the domestic with the birth of my first child. Whatever the reasons, I only emotionally connected with music that would return me to myself and settle my spirit even if only for a moment. So here's my list of the albums that made my year in music:
I hope you enjoyed The Golden West and that you’ve been thinking about your 2016 in music. The year-end list is a true tradition for me. There's a process, a proper way of doing things. So before I put together my year-end list, I think about what I missed when I made last year’s list. I stand by my 2015 list; I still listen to everything on there. Yet, if I knew then what I know now, it would have looked a little different. This post is an appreciation of what I learned about 2015 in 2016.
“I don’t think I’ve read more than a few pages of anything in months.” This confession to a student of mine sums things up pretty well. I expected some of this. Having a kid changes things. The first months turn sleep into the most precious commodity. Of course. But what I was not ready for was the great blanking of my mind. I’ve found it hard to turn information into complete thoughts, let alone compelling conversation.
In December, I posted “What I’m Reading.” I want it to be a regular thing, but I also think that limiting these to what I’m reading is too constraining. So I’m rechristening this series “Reading, Looking, and Listening” to cover all the bases.
I’m half French. Paris remains my mother’s home though she hasn't lived there in forty years. She is utterly transformed when she returns to Paris. It’s a beautiful thing to witness. I nearly feel at home there. I spent as much time as I could there—all told, several months spread over a decade plus—and if my felicity with the language matched how I feel when walking Parisian streets, then it would be home for me too. The terror attacks in Paris yesterday are incomprehensible. Really, that’s what terror is—it’s the extreme fear that sets in when reason fails and words end.
I just signed up for Stoic Week 2015, which will run from November 2nd-8th. I think you should too. It will take a little commitment, but it won't be overly burdensome. It'll include some short daily readings and light meditative practices. I call them “light” because you don’t have to be a yogi to do them. They’re really just about taking a few minutes to quietly reflect. It is—as Michel de Montaigne puts it—"nothing but the bringing of my emotions and thoughts back to myself."
