16(ish) Songs and 5 Albums

Hello everyone! After a somewhat unintentional hiatus, I'm back with a lot to catch up on. I had quite an extreme case of burnout which stopped me from writing for a little while, but I still kept collecting songs I knew I eventually wanted to talk about. After 6 months, I finally felt ready to open Google Docs and get back to it. So here's to a new year of writing whatever the hell I want! Enjoy as much or as little of this as you'd like, but I had fun making it, and that's what matters.

Grand Mal, Ezra Furman

Ezra Furman is my favorite artist of all time. She was the first person I ever felt comfortable giving that title to; before I found her music, I didn’t really believe I could have a singular love for one artist that would take precedence over all others. But truly, I think her music has saved my life. She’s carried me through so many moments over the last two years, incredible and devastating, exciting and terrifying. All of those things are coming together in full this year as I prepare not only to go off to college, but to finally make a transition I’ve been afraid of for years. All that to say, Ezra couldn’t have timed her 10th album better. “Grand Mal” is the first single off of it, and my expectations were high and met with her usual merit. The arrangement in this song (notably the strings) is reminiscent of my favorite record of hers (2017’s Transangelic Exodus), but for the first time, she incorporates a digital element: a haunting loop of “burn, burn burn.” She takes the song slowly, giving each line the time it desires, building up to an eventual crest in falsetto that holds just enough power to act as a confident declaration of her return. I cannot wait to see where this record goes.

Suck The Cherry, The Velveteers

I think “lesbian rock” has to be one of the all-time greatest subgenres. While not technically an explicitly lesbian song (that I know of), “Suck The Cherry” feels very fitting for that canon. There’s clearly an influence from the lesbian rock greats: this song sounds something like the lovechild of Bikini Kill and St. Vincent, a crossover that gives it a fever-dream feel. The best part is the breakdown in the pre-chorus, the pure power emanating from the drums. It’s then immediately contrasted against the sickly sweet chorus, tearing you back and forth in the best way possible. Also, there should be more songs about cherries. Can’t recommend this song enough.

Drums of Death, FKA twigs (ft. Koreless)

I came across this song for the first time when FKA twigs leaked part of it on TikTok months ago. It caught my ear immediately, and I waited for its release on the edge of my seat, hoping the rest would be just as good as the clip I’d become obsessed with. When I finally got to listen to the whole thing, I discovered something different: it was even better. This is absolutely my favorite song released in November. I listened to it a truly insane amount of times–it reminds me of 100 gecs in the way that once I heard it, all other music sounded boring in comparison. Another part of my love for it comes from my dancer brain, because the choreography Zoi Tatopoulos created for a performance slightly before its release completely changed my view of the rhythms in the song. The beats one can hit on this song are so unique and I kept coming back to them, my mind creating elaborate performances that my hands would follow as I played it on countless walks around the city. The production is surreal, surrounding the ear with an otherworldly glitch that keeps you listening over and over just to make sure you heard it right the last time. This song is so cool, and although I haven’t gotten around to listening to the record yet, the other two singles were also phenomenal. I can’t wait to hear it in full.

High Road, Zach Bryan

Zach Bryan continues to be my favorite source of country. The things I love most about him appear in full force on this random single he released in November: heartfelt lyrics delivered with a genuine roughness and beautifully crafted musical builds. Bryan takes us on a journey through his memories, circling through every emotion he felt throughout a relationship that’s no longer around but still haunts him. It’s a relatively simple song that doesn’t ask for more than it needs, peaking at the bridge and then dropping back down suddenly as if he ran out of energy to be angry. It’s artful and sentimental, a classic Zach Bryan song to keep you company when things are haunting you late at night. As the stress of my life heated up in November, I often said that I could probably be fixed by a dark room and good speakers to play Zach Bryan on. This song kept me company when I needed it.

DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS, Bad Bunny 

The last new album of 2024 I listened to entirely for myself was on November 19th. I didn’t independently listen to another brand new record again until January 6th, when I decided that the bus ride on my first day back at school would be just long enough to cover the entire new Bad Bunny record. When this album came out, I was in a really low period of music listening, struggling to find interest in anything new (let alone write about it). But after 2 months, hours of worry about what this meant for my future, and a whole lot of silence… when the very first beat dropped on “NUEVAYoL,” that part of my brain lit up again. 

Bad Bunny is undoubtedly one of the most successful artists alive, but I’ve had trouble getting into his stuff before. I listened to his last record when it came out in October of 2023, but I had a hard time getting into it. Although I liked his sound, as an album it felt pretty repetitive. But on DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS, he refuses to go even 30 seconds without something unexpected. Bad Bunny returned to his roots for this album, taking influence from Puerto Rican rhythms and combining them with the modern reggaeton sound he’s helped to explode. It’s exactly what he needed to do. Every song is different and addicting, each one a new clash of past and present to explore. My favorites are “NUEVAYoL,” “BAILE INoLVIDABLE,” “PERFuMINTO NUVEO” (RaiNao is fantastic on here), “EL CLúB,” “CAFé CON RON,” and of course, the title track, which serves as the centerpiece of the album. But they’re all incredible. 

Lyrically, though I’m at a major disadvantage as a non-Spanish speaker, I’ve spent enough time on Genius’s translation page to gather most of the meanings. The one that comes through most clearly is in the title track itself. The refrain of “I should’ve taken more photos” is a powerful one. In “DtMF”, he reminisces on the way that his family, friends, life, and country have changed. It makes the theme of the ties between history and modernity lie not only in the music but also in the stories as he wrestles with and celebrates what it means to be Puerto Rican in 2025. It’s his folklore or RENAISSANCE–he’s too big to fail, leaving him free to go anywhere he wants to. And where he wants to go is back to the shores of his home. To anyone, myself included, who may have doubted him before: DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS cements Bad Bunny as one of the greatest artists of all time. 

June Gloom, Camila Cabello

I’m not here to defend C,XOXO, but I am here to defend “June Gloom.” Camila has had an up-and-down career, but I feel fairly confident in saying that this is one of the best songs she’s ever made. It’s certainly one of the best pop songs I’ve ever heard. She captures such a raw feeling without a word out of place. The first pre-chorus hooks you in with an unexpectedly direct question: “If she’s so amazing, why are you on this side of town?” But my favorite line is in the second, when she says, “Text you my favorite songs, turning you on from the 405.” The first time around, this line snuck under the radar–but when I gave it a second listen, I realized that’s the most creative version of “I would die for you” I’ve yet heard. And the most significant part is that I understand that exact feeling. I’ve had my fair share of crosswalks spent nervously looking down, knowing the smile on their face when they opened my message to find another Spotify link would be worth the risk. When she says, “Goddamn, falling to the kitchen floor, goddamn, think we’d been here before,” I know the exact deja vu she’s talking about–when you’re so out of your mind that everywhere you look reminds you of them. “June Gloom” hits right in that place of love you know you shouldn’t have, and Camila digs the knife of desperation in deep. 

365 featuring shygirl, Charli xcx and Shygirl

One thing I learned from brat summer is that I want to dance. Not just dance–jump. Give up control of my body for the energy of a great song. I came away from brat’s club tracks only wanting more, so Charli xcx supplied. The remix of “365” (featuring upcoming club-pop staple Shygirl) goes harder than any of her tracks have before, directly into the basement where the BRAT rave is being held. I found myself listening to it when I was bored of other music or of real life; it makes everything seem small in comparison to the intensity of the beat. From first listen, it took me to a place I hadn't actually experienced until she opened her Sweat Tour with the song. There’s something special about dancing in a place where everyone is there to escape their real life for the night–we’re only here to party, and Charli knows that better than anyone. It was a surreal experience to hear that bass kick in on the Forum’s speakers right next to one of my friends, both of us already on edge with excitement. It’s the product of the version of BRAT that discarded its emotional depth for the sake of true party–a version that I’m glad didn’t appear on the main record. But alone, it stands out as proof that Charli knows what a real party sounds like. 

Balloon, Tyler, The Creator and Doechii

The worst thing about taking a break from October until now is that I’ve missed being able to catalogue the rise of Doechii in real time. I’m incredibly proud to say that the final album I reviewed before my hiatus was hers, but I’ve had so much to say as I’ve watched everyone else get onboard that my friends have been forced to hear instead of my website. There are a couple of key moments I would mark in her rise as the things that pushed her over the edge, and I think the crowning achievement is “Balloon.” It’s clear from everything about her that Tyler, The Creator was possibly her biggest influence, and she’s spoken about how getting his co-sign was one of the most important career milestones she’s ever had. But I’d take it one step further–this isn’t a cosign as much as it is a bowing down to the next titan of weird rap. Chromakopia is a highly personal album where we see Tyler take us through his life’s journey, but “Balloon” is the confetti on top, a celebration of all that has made this work worth it. For Tyler to place Doechii next to him at his peak, during the song that represents the culmination of his life’s work–it is him telling the world that this is who he created, and this is who’s going to take his legacy on. I can’t wait to see where they go together. 

infinite money glitch, June Henry

The amount that I talk about June Henry on here is not anywhere near proportional to the amount that I actually play her music. She’s my most-listened-to artist of the last 6 months by a very substantial margin. But she hasn’t actually released a full (official) album since I listened to her for the first time back in February–at least, not until December’s infinite money glitch. Braiden and I have followed this entire album cycle together, constantly sending posts back and forth on Instagram with a lot of exclamation points ever since the first single came out in September. The night of the record’s release, I embarked on a walk to observe the Christmas decorations in my neighborhood with her voice blasting in my earbuds. When it was done, I sent two voice memo reviews to Braiden–and then put it right back on again. 

It’s easily her best record so far. June Henry has a tendency to not finish things (not that I can really judge), but the best thing about this album is that everything feels fully formed. Each song is its own universe, which it has the space and time to be because it’s actually completed. Her writing is better than ever, which is saying something since she’s possibly my favorite songwriter of all time. I think the best song on it is the unofficial closer, “looking in.” It’s a song about the experience of publishing such personal stories for everyone to hear, but I think the lyrics transcend that–I found myself connecting it to my own relationships with people as a beautiful articulation of letting yourself be vulnerable enough to love someone and tell them that. But my favorite is “airplane angel.” Opposing the last, it’s a sweet song about never telling someone you love them but loving them anyway. June Henry captures the deepest care in the smallest moments, as is her trademark. 

Musically, she’s been doing this thing with layering two guitars that sounds really nice. She also breaks out her old cello skills for the closing song, a beautiful minute-long instrumental outro. She’s said she thinks this might be the album to break out of her existing fanbase, and I agree. If infinite money glitch doesn’t take off, I don’t know what will. But for now, I’m fortunate to already be in the know. I’ll keep playing it on my earbuds on night walks and bus rides, no matter who else listens. 

luther, Kendrick Lamar and SZA

As much as I love all of Kendrick’s work, anything he does with SZA has a habit of falling right into my favorites. This song is no exception, and is even possibly the best addition to their joint history. When gnx first came out, I listened to the whole thing straight away (cancelling a meeting just to finish the record, which ironically felt like one of my most professional moments). The second it ended, I put “luther” right back on. I’ve had it on repeat since then. SZA’s angelic vocals contrast perfectly with Kendrick’s laid-back flow on this song, a description that can rarely be attributed to him. It’s a nice change. The song takes its time, not rushing to get anywhere other than it is right now. It’s been a fitting soundtrack for trying to embody that vibe in my own life.

Fourth of July, Fall Out Boy

Probably the biggest personal music event that went on during my hiatus was an incredibly intense Fall Out Boy fixation spurned by seeing them live back in October. From November-January, Patrick Stump was pretty much the only voice in my ear. The final song I obsessed over was “Fourth of July,” a track off their 2015 record American Beauty/American Psycho. I spent all of late December and early January on this song, peaking when I played it a bunch of times on the walk to a party on New Year’s Eve. Like most of American Beauty/American Psycho, it’s certainly overdramatic, but something about this one works for me. I believe the pain in Stump’s voice on a deeper level than most of the others on the record, mostly because Pete Wentz (the band’s bassist and primary songwriter) even deigns to make a rare vocal appearance himself. It fit with the overdramatic scope of my own emotions at the time, coming off a highly tumultuous period in my personal life. Anyways, do I think this is the best Fall Out Boy song? No, but it was my final favorite. And when the chorus comes in, it always hits. If you ever find yourself feeling like dying your hair and painting your face with a black American flag, I’d recommend giving it a listen. 

You, In Weird Cities, Jeff Rosenstock

I had a very quick escalation from hearing “You, In Weird Cities” by accident (it came up on shuffle after hearing WORRY. for the first time) to suddenly finding myself regularly listening to it 5 full times a day. The friend who got me into Jeff Rosenstock described this obsession as “unprecedented,” which I found hilarous–apparently, through all the people they’ve introduced to Rosenstock’s music, it is the “first time [they’ve] ever seen anyone be THAT into the studio recording of ‘You, In Weird Cites.’” After extensive consideration, I’ve figured out why I like it so much: it came about at a point when my personal life was looking up for the first time in months while at the same time my country was crashing down around me. That’s a hard dichotomy to soundtrack. But this song’s depressive facade that builds into still-unrelenting joy at the euphoria of human connection managed to hit the exact sweet spot of what I was feeling. Yeah, everything was going to shit–but I was also making new friends, resolving a months-long disagreement, telling people about my future for the first time. “You, In Weird Cities” captured that moment perfectly, which is why it was one of my most played songs of January.

Little Chaos, Orla Gartland

Orla Gartland is an artist I’ve been following passively for the past few years, ever since her track “Why Am I Like This?” was featured in Netflix’s Heartstopper in 2022. But when I came across this song in January, it felt like a spark. Something new is happening. This is the second single off her second record, and for the first time, it feels like she fully understands her own sound. That confidence comes through in the recording–she’s spunky, excited, and, fittingly, a little chaotic. It’s impossible not to love. Along with the previous track, I spent all of January listening to this on repeat. That opening guitar lick is addicting, and I keep coming back, back, back. It hits just as hard every time. 

Make Waves Presents: Hypnosis

In case you haven’t heard, outside of this lovely side project of a website, I co-run a small music label! This year, we released our very first EP, a collection of 6 songs from some of our veteran artists. I think it’s the best group of songs we’ve ever put out. One of my favorites is the opening track, “X,” which is a bit of a legendary song among the label. At 6 minutes, it’s one of the most comprehensive songs ever on one of our projects, and it was built by the holy trinity of Spykelovo, Tr3!, and Vincent Gómez (a producer who also serves as our insanely talented graphic designer). All 3 have been part of running the label for two years and have been instrumental in getting this EP released (in addition to finishing their music for it). I can’t tell you how excited I was to finally have it on streaming services so I could blast it everywhere I go. As of writing this, I just accidentally blasted in in a local boba shop–and I have no shame. 

The next track is another one I’ve known about for a while, but the lucky thing about that is that I’ve gotten to see it grow to its final form. I.C. King is one of our most promising younger artists (he’s only in 10th grade), and he’s on an upward trajectory that’s been amazing to watch. Following that, there’s something new from Tr3! who happens to be not only one of my favorite artists on the label but also one of my closest friends. It’s closed by my favorite song of Corner Trauma’s, which is a 3-part piece with a lot of really cool stuff going on. But track 4 is my favorite. Kayla Pincus, my co-president. In her final year at the label, she’s making sure to leave an impact. “Figure It Out,” produced by Moa Ball, is an ethereal epic of a song that takes me off this earthly plane every time her vocals come in. Her siren-like runs are some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard her perform. I’ve heard some of the other stuff she has coming up, and I’m so, so excited. Look out for new Kayla Pincus reviews soon! All in all, I’m so proud of this project and the fact that we got it out there. I would highly encourage you to check it out. 

June, Eva Mars and Larkin

I’m very lucky to know so many great musicians at the beginning of their careers. Sometimes I find them on the internet or through a friend, and sometimes they’re people I get to call friends myself. Eva Mars is someone I’ve looked up to immensely, both as a musician and as a leader when she served as the CFO of my label last year. She taught me a lot about what it takes to get things done. But she’d also been one of my favorite signed artists since I first heard her music years before we formally met. Eva’s music reminds me a lot of a young Phoebe Bridgers (a comparison I know she makes herself), and in that vein, “June” feels like a fresh piece of Bridgers’ collaboration with Connor Obherst, Better Oblivion Community Center, come back to life. Larkin’s voice compliments Eva’s stunningly well as they weave through a tale of love separated. The musical arrangement is done just as gracefully, building into an ethereal guitar solo at the pinnacle of indie rock done best. Even if I came across this song as a complete stranger, I would love it just as much. It’s gentle and soft yet strong and full-bodied–it’s absolutely beautiful. 

Take Off Your Sunglasses, Ezra Furman and the Harpoons

One of my favorite things about Ezra Furman is her extensive back catalog. Whenever the itch for a new record of hers comes about, I instead get to dig into exploring something old that always ends up being just as good. In October I finally listened to her second record with The Harpoons, Inside The Human Body (while in a way it certainly is a snapshot of where she was at the time, she’s also said recently (a thought I had many times while listening) that “In retrospect, this is secretly a concept album about being trans”). I have a few other personal favorites, but I think the best song off of it is “Take Off Your Sunglasses.” Though a simple Bob Dylan-esque folk-rock track, the lyrics showcase Ezra’s eternal talent for writing stories that slot easily next to her heroes, Dylan being one of them. This one’s a tale of her partner’s desperation to get her to admit to something she’s just not willing to face (perhaps see the above comment). She always brings a unique element of fun to it, delivering the vocal performance sometimes more as a best-friend-voice-memo rant than a melody. It’s a relic from an era before “Ezra Furman” was fully formed, but it's certainly one that shows how we got here. 

Infinity On High, Fall Out Boy

I do have to perhaps take a seat of shame on this one, as I know freshman-year me (who used to get into passionate anti-Fall Out Boy arguments) would be disappointed. But on the other hand, I suppose I’m glad I’ve evolved from who I was at 14. That seems like a good sign. 

My story with Fall Out Boy has been a slow one over the last few months. As you know, I got quite invested in “Sugar We’re Going Down” out of nowhere in September, and it made me finally take an interest in the rest of their music. I turned to my resident FOB expert (Braiden) who helpfully recommended me a number of their songs that he liked or that were in major keys (long story). This was shortly before he took me to Las Vegas to see them live as part of the When We Were Young festival on October 20th. I was expecting to enjoy them, but I wasn’t expecting to be blown away the way that I was–I came out of the show finding that out of all 12 bands we saw, they were my favorite.

After taking a good 48 hours of synth-pop to recover, I set out to listen to a full album of theirs. I had heard 3 of the Infinity On High songs on Braiden’s playlist and liked them all, so I figured it was a good bet. I was correct. I listened to it all the way through, then listened to it all the way through again immediately after–a move I only pull with records that truly impress me. I think I’m discovering why emo kids were so drawn to this style in the 2000s: every time Patick Stump breaks into the first chorus on the opener, “Thriller,” I find all my problems disappearing for the sake of nodding my head along to his voice, a smile breaking out on my face. It’s ironic, because that’s exactly what the song is about: “Cry on the couch/All the poets come to life/Fix me in 45” is a reference to the band’s firsthand experience in the life-changing, problem-solving power of a good standard-length record. As much as I love the album as a whole, “Thriller” is still my favorite. There’s so much to love, from the musical build (it jumps into B Minor for the pre-chorus, which is an excellent move) to the random introduction by Jay-Z to (most especially) the phenomenal drums by Andy Hurley. I don’t often find that I can argue that the musical hook of the song is in the drums, but Hurley manages to carry the song through a peak example of one of FOB’s best skills: grand, anthemic drumming. This was my most-played song of October. 

But there are a number of greats on this record. “Hum Hallelujah” is another favorite, fulfilling the role of classic rebel teen anthem essential to any pop-punk album. It’s a great example of another fun musical thing they like to do: tempo changes! It also contains my favorite lines in the record: “I love you in the same way/There’s a chapel in a hospital/One foot in your bedroom/And one foot out the door.” I also love “The (After) Life of the Party,” especially their use of one recontextualized repetition, one of my favorite songwriting techniques. Lastly, I can’t leave this review without mentioning “G.I.N.A.S.F.S.,” which I listened to just barely less than “Thriller,” peaking at 5 full listens in one day. It’s another one where they jump between major and minor keys, creating a layer of emotional tension over the otherwise upbeat rock, and once again utilizing some great moments from the drums. More than anything, I’ll give this one’s credit to lead singer Patrick Stump, who delivers each line as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever get to sing. He creates an excellent emotive cliff’s edge he seems just about to jump off of at the end of each sentence, making the listener only want to hear more. There is also, of course, one other important character: bassist Pete Wentz, who writes all of the band’s songs. 

It’s easy to discard Fall Out Boy as just another emo band, especially if you know what they looked like in 2007 (let’s just say Patrick Stump played a major hand in the fedora resurgence of the early 2010s), but if you give this record a listen, it’s very hard to ignore their talent. Not only do they employ a lot more interesting musical techniques than one might expect, they also are true masters of the pop-punk young angst, which isn’t something to be dismissed. Teenagers have proved time and time again to be the primary drivers of the music industry, which makes sense, since songs in their most basic form are expressions of pure emotion. There’s a magic to the music you listen to as a teen that people seem to never forget, which is the whole reason When We Were Young even exists. On the night of my senior homecoming, I found myself putting this album as I got ready, and it was still playing it in my earbuds as I walked into the dance. It made me feel like part of something bigger–I’m not just a random 17-year-old listening to music, but part of a legacy of teenage feelings captured through blaring guitars that encompasses millions. That’s the best part about Infinity On High: I think it’ll keep finding those kids for many years to come. 

Please Tell Me, Lightning Bug

My most anticipated record of 2024 was a project called TRANSA that came out in late November. It’s an 8-act, 4-hour compilation record by trans artists about the spiritual journey of transition done by Red Hot, an organization that previously made one of my favorite records of all time (Red Hot + Riot). Even better, it featured both my first and second favorite artists of all time (Ezra Furman and Moses Sumney, respectively), a pair who have never had any other crossover. I’m going to be upfront and tell you right now that I still haven’t listened to the full thing. That’s part of what prevented anything being published in November–I knew I couldn’t talk about any album other than this one, but I also couldn’t find the time to finish the whole record. It truly did dictate my life that month, though. One of the highlights of my year was getting to speak to one of the creators (Massima Bell) at a listening party. All this to say, from the 3 acts I have listened to, “Please Tell Me” is my favorite. It’s a cover of a Bandcamp-only Bedhed song, but Lightning Bug takes it to a completely new level, extending it by a minute and amping up every beat of the original. The distorted guitars give it a late 90s alt-rock feel while contrasting against the yeule-esque digital details all across the song that give it a touch of the future. It’s one of those songs that feels made just for me.

Your Best American Girl, Mitski

There is a fact about me that I don’t talk about a lot, especially on here, but I’m going to now. That fact is that I am trans. This is something I’ve known about myself for many years, but I’m finally coming to a point where it is broaching outside of my mind and my notes app and becoming a lot more relevant in my life, both personally and politically. Because of this, my relationship to writing and music has changed. I’ve found it harder to think about superficial things when it feels like my entire world is fundamentally shifting. Instead, I’ve turned to the few words and songs that feel like they can rise to that occasion, this essay by Lio Min being one of them. Prior to reading it, my experience with Mitski had been confined mostly to my 9th grade year when I would listen to the same 9 songs of hers over and over as an external source for the emotional pain I was experiencing–using them to cut the veins in place of a real knife. Though I look at my life and Mitski’s music very differently now, this song has settled into a similar place in my life. Though I can’t relate to the original experience Mitski was writing about, it’s become unbreakably tied to that essay, which is in itself unbreakably tied to the strange place I am in life right now: giving myself permission to finally open the Pandora’s box of secrets I’ve been keeping for the last four years. Trying to believe in a world where they don’t follow me as curses. Mitski speaks to a similar position–”Your Best American Girl” grapples with accepting that this thing you’ve been taught was terrible your whole life might be good, actually. “Your mother wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me/But I do, I think I do.” Her nervous steps forward contrast with the weight of the screaming guitars, but it captures perfectly the feeling of such a small thing meaning so much–a feeling I’ve become intimately familiar with. I’d encourage anyone reading this to check out Lio Min’s essay, as it’s one of the most beautiful pieces I’ve ever read. And perhaps when you hear this song, you can understand some part of what my head has felt like for the last few months. Or maybe its beauty will speak to you for your own reasons, too.

I Would Die 4 U, Prince + I Would Die 4 U, Lauren Auder and Wendy & Lisa

Transness as holy is an idea I enjoy exploring; there’s the famous quote, “God blessed me by making me transsexual for the same reason God made wheat but not bread and fruit but not wine, so that humanity might share in the act of creation.” This came up again when listening to Prince’s “I Would Die 4 U.” The original song is supposedly written from the perspective of Jesus, regarding his dying for everyone’s sins. It’s theorized to be about Prince giving himself up to God to act as a vessel for holiness and the ways in which he would die for his God. TRANSA recontextualizes that, but I think the two are very connected. The idea of giving up your physical body/way of life thus far/position in society in search of a new holiness, of the chance that this new self can bring you a kind of euphoria that is both beyond usual humanity and innately, commonly human at the same time–that concept is incredibly tied to a trans interpretation. It’s very similar to finding religion, but it’s finding yourself. A death for your future. Some lines that are interesting to look at in this new context: “I am something you will never understand/comprehend” (a leap of faith into a something scary that may but is not guaranteed to bring you happiness, but you have to take it even when you can never be 100% sure, tied with the fact that no one really understands gender anyways), “and if you’re evil I’ll forgive you by and by” (the idea of allowing this new self to have forgiveness you never gave yourself before, earned by the power and bravery of creation, as well as possibly the idea of accepting imperfection), and especially “All I really need to know is you believe” (you are the only person who can determine your own identity). This was the first single from TRANSA and I think it was a very fitting prologue to the journey of the record, as well as a great cover. Personally, though, I’ve found I prefer the original–the feeling that classic 80s “chugging” instrumentation brings out is impossible to beat. 

WORRY., Jeff Rosenstock

WORRY. was the final addition to this list. Originally, I was only going to talk about “To Be A Ghost…,” but over the last week the whole record has really taken over my life. I’ve been thinking about what’s calling me to Jeff Rosenstock right now, and I think it’s similar to what I said about “Weird Cities:” trying to find joy in my anger at the world. WORRY. captures that idea pretty well, as well as exploring what to do when everything is changing around you (which is another concept quite relevant to my life at the moment). The last time I published a piece on here, the 2024 election was still a month away. Things are very different now than I expected them to be, and I’ve had a really hard time figuring out how to live with it. 

I’ve found myself turning most often to friends I didn’t realize I had, trying to find solace in human connection. To “fuck off the internet,” if you will. One of those friends recommended me Jeff Rosenstock as their coping mechanism of choice, and one night we sat down and listened to WORRY. together (though, ironically, we did so digitally). I understand why this is the music they turn to. I’ve come to find my own comfort in it. 

Every song on the record is completely different from the others. They’re all incredible in their own right, but my favorites are “Festival Song,” “I Did Something Weird Last Night,” “Blast Damage Days,” and “The Fuzz.” The ending of the album is a medley that journeys sound-wise through a lot of Rosenstock’s career, which is also very cool. 

My last favorite, and the original entry on this list, is “To Be A Ghost…”. One of the biggest things the Trump Administration has been seeking to do in its first few weeks is to erase trans people from existence–I’ve found myself turning to “To Be A Ghost…” more and more often as a necessary reminder that this isn’t the first time this has happened. Though a song written about police brutality and the modern tendency for social movements to “die with their viralty” (an important issue in its own right), I’ve found the lyrics suddenly very applicable to my own life. “They want you to be a ghost/When they rob you of your hope/But you’ve got power when they’re not expecting anything” sounds remarkably similar to the things my therapist has been telling me more and more as the White House moves forward with its seemingly personal mission to kill all my hope for the world. I’m trying to get better at not believing them, and in those moments, “To Be A Ghost…” is one of the first places I turn to. 

As for the record as a whole, I’d been listening to a few songs here and there, but what brought me back to the album was a recent Monday when I was truly exhausted and “Blast Damage Days” came on as I was laying my head on my desk during my second-to-last class of the day. I realized it was the only thing I wanted to hear. Sometimes you need to stop pretending that everything is fine, you know? And WORRY. doesn’t fake anything. Rosenstock is upfront about everything that scares and frustrates him about the world. But within all that, he’s just as passionate about the love he has for it. I think “Blast Damage Days” is the centerpiece of the record for that reason. It’s a waltz-time song about the world becoming a late-stage capitalist hellscape, but keeping love around with a determination that only gets fiercer the more the world tries to take it from you. “I will be there kicking, fighting, beating, screaming/There’s no fucking way I’m ever letting go of you.” That juxtaposition of violence and deep care is exactly what the record is about, and I’ve grown to hold it close as I try and navigate my own cares in this increasingly violent world. It’s a rallying cry I’ve come back to time and time again, both with the people I love and myself: there’s no fucking way I’m ever letting go of you. 

thanks for going on this journey with me.