albums i listened to all the way through
posted this week and (almost) every week (26)
I had to play catch-up with my listening this week after my much needed week-long hiatus. I feel like a billion things happened while I was away.
For one, Hayley Williams released a sort-of album on her website, much to the excitement of her die-hard fans, several of whom are my closest friends. I got the much-sought-after email code from them and spent two weeks listening. When she released them as singles on Spotify, I then listened to my friend’s interpretation of the “correct” album order. Though not a super fan, I am always so impressed by Hayley Williams. She never ceases to amaze me as a songwriter and performer. (For the record, my favorite track is probably “True Believer.”)
I clearly missed the boat on the future of music curation conversation here on Substack too.
Emily White published this amazing interview with writer and playlist curator, Carly Bogdajewicz.
Reading it, along with the varied perspectives from other Gen Z music curators and creators, got me thinking about my own experiences with playlist making and music curation.
Despite having spent the better part of a decade listening, discovering, and curating music, I never saw curation as a career path. It was just something I needed to do in my spare time to keep from going off the deep end. It was my preferred outlet when I decided against pursuing a career in vocal performance.
I started making playlists and shared them to my Instagram stories for years, alongside individual songs and full albums. I wanted to be seen as someone with great taste. People were decidedly uninterested in what I was listening to or had to say about it, unless we were dating or headed there.
I developed a bit of a complex. For years, I internalized every single comment from people shitting on my music taste. Even when I was listening to the “good stuff,” I told myself I would never be on the cutting edge of music discovery. That was done by the other people—cooler people, older people, smarter people, DJs, influencers, College Radio Show hosts, and anyone with the guts to put themselves out there.
I learned years ago that putting myself out there was a recipe for heartbreak and rejection. I lived my outer life very practically and followed the rules set out by my Southern upbringing. I spent years listening to music on my own terms, discovering and learning and pining. It was my most solitary activity.
It wasn’t until I had an idea to write an extended essay about the Lost Art of Liner Notes that I found some semblance of a voice. Of course, almost no one outside of my immediate circle read it. It still only has one like. (Thanks, All Kinds Musick!)
My first couple of Substack essays all feature remnants of this attitude. I minimized and added too many “But hey what do I knows?” to every recommendation. I still struggle with this pervasive feeling of inferiority. The voice in the back of my head reminds me “You will never be good enough” every time I sit down to write a newsletter.
Still, I know I’m a curator through and through. I’ve created over 500 playlists on Spotify alone, all hyper-specific and/or deeply personal. If you scrolled down the list of my public playlists, you would see a smattering of the ones I felt brave enough to share. I don’t have thousands of likes or followers. I’m barely a zit on the face of the Substack music curator community. And yet, I’m proud of all of them. I’m proud of what we’ve (as in, this incredible community of readers and listeners) built, together. This sort of thing isn’t created in a vacuum. Your words, insights, and recommendations keep this going as much as I do.
I started this Substack with the hope I could finally write about music and someone, anyone, would care. I’ve found an audience entirely by accident, just by sharing the albums I listen to every week and communicating with you all on Notes and in the comments.
I don’t know how to process this level of joy and gratitude appropriately, so for now I’ll just say, thanks :)
Disclaimer: I am really struggling to let go of my Spotify library. I’m still in the process of transferring all of my playlists over, so please be kind in the comments. I know Spotify = Bad.
I’ve listened to enough albums enough times now that I think I understand what my music elders know better than anyone—the album is truly the superior listening medium. While playlists were my first love, I think albums might be my second—teaching me all the lessons I need to learn about this art form.
This past week, I listened to Plans by Death Cab for Cutie probably twenty times in preparation for seeing them perform it live for the 20th Anniversary. I’ve never taken the time to listen to this album with such focus and devotion before. I had no idea what I was missing until this singular moment in time.
When you listen to the same song or album obsessively (i.e. over and over and over and over again), lyrics and sequences start to stick in your brain like gum on your shoe or dried egg yolk on a plate. You cannot rid yourself of such earworms (not that you want to, especially if the album is as timeless as Plans is).
Over the last eight months, so many new songs and lyrics and sounds have entered my orbit. They dance around my head like ballerinas in a Degas painting, filling my days with the same ritualistic movements and mantras.
The longer I listen to music this way, the more I understand guys like my brother, my stepdad, and all the music lovers I’ve ever looked up to—musical patterns and track orders seep into my subconscious and reveal themselves whenever it’s least or most convenient.
The way human beings internalize music and art is so fascinating. For me, the thing I gravitate towards most is a solid, unmistakable bass line. Those can get stuck in my head for weeks.
This week, it’s Death Cab’s song, “Summer Skin.” Last week, it was “Two Birds” by Sister. Next week? Fuck, who knows.
If you have a song with a great bass line you want to send me, please do! I would love to listen.
Here are the albums I listened to all the way through this past week:
Plans (2005) by Death Cab for Cutie**X
Two Birds (2025) by Sister.**X
spittake (2025) by meg elsier
Hayley Williams (2025) by Hayley Williams, track order courtesy of my friend, CarreyX
The Villain (2025) by Mal Blum
Re: hate you got on your music taste. If you listened to nothing but the most sophisticated classical music, you'd still get some hate for choosing the wrong cellist's performance, or (gasp!), an mp3 over vinyl. Some people are simply soul-sucking-extra no matter the topic/genre.
A friend and I were just talking about the bass from Karate's album In Place of Real Insight, specifically "Die Die".
And a surprising bass line a bass player friend pointed out to me is "Sledgehammer" by Peter Gabriel. A song I always thought was corny but has been been more palatable through time.
Then "Mars for the Rich" by King Gizzard just rips!