An Instax photo taken of me in my twenties. BTW, if you want more like this, click here, here, and here. 😇
It took me a long time to start enjoying porn. I had already been masturbating and reading erotica (especially erotic fanfiction) for several years before porn became a regular part of my solo sex routine.
Up until then, it just… hadn’t really interested me. What little I’d seen of it, online or while flipping through TV channels late at night, had seemed ridiculous to me: over-the-top, unrealistic, melodramatically acted. I’d never had sex, so I didn’t know what sex was “really like,” but I knew that the images in those videos didn’t resonate with me (or my vagina) anywhere near as much as the flirty banter in a great fanfic story, or the frisson I felt when talking to a crush at school. If devising fantasies and replaying memories felt more exciting than watching porn, why bother watching it?
There were a few exceptions; I liked the punk-rock pinup pics on the website SuicideGirls, and I had watched that one notorious Nina Hartley cunnilingus tutorial so many times that it had eventually earned a place of honor on my iPod Video. (Now there’s a throwback!) But most porn, especially most straight porn, was off-putting to me. I just didn’t get it.
Eventually, though, I discovered amateur porn. In comparison to the slick overproduction of mainstream studio porn, these amateurs making sexy videos from their bedrooms or basements felt like a revelation. Their work turned me on, not just because their bodies and lives looked closer to my own, but because – what with so many amateur porn makers being real-life couples – they showed me a vision of what a future sex life could look like for me: intimate, fun, sometimes a little silly, and hot. Very hot.
I was always the type of anxious kid who would Google things like “how to know if someone wants to kiss you” and “what do dicks taste like?” so there was something calming about watching real couples have the kinds of sex they apparently regularly had, even when the cameras were off. They showed me that you didn’t have to be an industry professional to be “good at sex” and to be thought of as sexy. That comforted me.
I’ve also always been turned on by the idea of someone knowing your body so well that they can get you off easily and consistently; I eroticized the thought of being known that deeply. And there’s no better place to watch that fantasy unfold than in amateur porn, where performers are often intimately familiar with one another’s bodies and know all the right buttons to press. This seemed romantic to me, and helped me dream about the sexual futures I wanted for myself.
While “amateur porn” is still an extremely popular porn category, the term itself has evolved over time. Its popularity prompted many mainstream porn studios to adopt an “amateur” aesthetic in some of their work, hoping to draw in some viewers who (like me) had previously been unimpressed with big-studio porn.
Meanwhile, the internet continued evolving, eventually empowering some performers to attract bigger and bigger audiences and to use more powerful platforms to reach new people. Both then and now, it almost feels disingenuous to call some of these people “amateurs” when they may have as much industry knowledge as, if not more than, many performers for mainstream companies because they’ve always been responsible for doing their own lighting, filming, editing, etc.
Some purists might argue that the well-lit and well-marketed independent performers on OnlyFans, ManyVids, etc. aren’t amateurs in the true sense of the word, because their production values are too high or their videos are too pre-planned and performative. While it’s fine if you prefer the low-res, low-lit amateur videos of yore, I actually think it’s wonderful that video technology has become accessible enough that you don’t have to have big studio bucks to make porn that looks great. And I also know – particularly from talking to friends of mine in the industry – that just because something is “performed” doesn’t necessarily mean it’s inauthentic. Some people find exhibitionism exciting, and so, in their videos, you may see performativity and authenticity blended together seamlessly into something gorgeous and hot.
Still to this day, it’s incredibly rare that I watch porn made by mainstream studios. Most of it just doesn’t interest me and doesn’t turn me on. I can’t relax and enjoy myself if I don’t feel that the performers on-screen are also relaxed and enjoying themselves, ideally with someone they like to fuck off-camera as well. And sure, that kind of thing can be found in some mainstream porn, but it’s much more readily available (and more believable to me) in the “amateur” category.
I want to feel like what I’m watching could plausibly happen in my bedroom, or my friends’ bedrooms. I want to feel the performers’ real flirtation and attraction and deep knowledge of one another’s bodies. I want real orgasms, real squirting, real giggles and real romance. And I want to pay creators directly (or as directly as possible) for what they’ve made, with no bigwig middle-man standing between us. I want to feel connected to the porn I watch, and to the people in it, almost as much as I feel connected to my actual sexual partners and my friends.
And so, I still love amateur porn, and probably always will – although I hope it’s eventually given a name more befitting of the immense work and expertise that can go into making real-life sex look real damn beautiful.
This post contains a sponsored link. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.
I’ve been having some convos with friends and family lately about the songwriting challenge I did this year, and have enjoyed explaining what made me want to do the challenge, what went into it, and what I took away from it. I found that lots of folks, especially other creatives, were interested in hearing about this – so I thought I’d write a blog post to wrap it all up!
Q. Wait. Did you really write and record 52 songs in 52 weeks?
A. A fair question. A couple things happened within close proximity of each other last December: I wrapped up an educational program called “Meaningful Activity” that I’d been doing at my local chronic pain clinic, which had been leading me through a process of identifying my core values and the things that bring me the most joy, and figuring out how to do more of those things, more often, despite living with chronic pain and chronic fatigue. It came up over and over again in my worksheets and journal entries for that program that I missed music, cared about music, loved making music, and hadn’t been making nearly enough music. At the time that I did this program, I hadn’t written a song in nearly 4 years. In high school I used to crank out multiple songs a month sometimes. I realized I missed that and wanted to be doing significantly more of it.
The other thing that happened was that I spent a solid couple weeks living alone that month because my roommate had gone to stay with her family for the holidays, and I realized that a lot of my reticence to play music lately had been self-consciousness about being heard, but that I didn’t really need to worry about that because my sweet roommate had always expressed supportiveness about my music-making. So I started playing more songs, and even wrote a couple, and then thought, hey, wouldn’t I be happier if I was doing this every single week? So I assigned myself the challenge.
Q. Did you really think you’d be able to complete the challenge when you started it?
A. Honestly, no. I thought fatigue, pain, and/or apathy would get the better of me at some point and I’d call it quits. It felt equally possible that I would quit 7 months in or that I would quit after the first week. I think I just don’t believe in myself as much as I should, especially when it comes to professional goals.
Q. Where did you get ideas for your songs? Did it ever feel like you were running (or had run) out of ideas?
A. Coming up with conceptual/lyrical ideas is one of the hardest parts of the process for me, which is partly why I sometimes don’t even start with a conceptual/lyrical concept – I’ll start by improvising some lyrics and melodies over a chord progression and kind of just free-associate about what the music reminds me of. This approach can feel more like the song is revealing its theme to me, rather than me coming in with a predetermined theme of my own.
Aside from that – often I would see something in media that would inspire a song: “The Museum” was based on some lines lifted from an Oliver Sacks essay, “Love is Blind” is about the Netflix dating reality show of the same name, “Does He Know?” was inspired by a love triangle on the TV comedy Superstore, “Credit Card” was written soon after I watched The Tinder Swindler, “The Stage” was based on a scene from a documentary about the musical Spring Awakening, “Celia” was an ode to a character from the book The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, “Grandmaster” was a love song for a cult leader inspired by NXIVM’s Keith Raniere, and “Sisyphus” was about Nick Drake and some biographies I’d read of him.
Sometimes songs were inspired by conversations I’d had with people in my life: “Bi Enough” came out of a conversation with my therapist about bisexual impostor syndrome, “Doll” was based on a story a friend told me about his sex doll, and “Amicably” was about a friend’s relatively civil breakup.
Sometimes I would ask my Instagram or Twitter followers to submit a theme, quote, or idea to inspire a song; “Brave Little Girl” was one of those. Sometimes I would pull two tarot cards and ponder their meanings, separately or together, until a song idea appeared; “Mr. Mean” and “What If?” were some of these. Sometimes I would go to RandomWordGenerator.com and have it give me 3 random words to inspire a song; “Notice Me” and “Nobody Likes Me” were some of those. One time, a dream inspired a song; I wrote “Stay” after waking up from a terrible nightmare.
Q. What did you learn about songwriting from doing this challenge?
A. A WHOLE LOT. As with any artistic discipline, you definitely get to know your own creative process much more intimately when forced to spend time on it every week. I kept notes on what I learned/observed over the course of the year; here’s a few highlights:
I used to have a bad habit of recording and posting new songs immediately after writing them, rather than going through subsequent stages of editing and practicing the song to polish it up. You would think that having to crank out a song every week would’ve made this worse, but it actually made me better at letting songs breathe for a day or more after writing them, and practicing them enough that I could perform them well on camera, because I would always feel like, “Well, I have until Sunday to get this done. Might as well make it as good as I can within that timeframe.” By the end of the challenge, I would pretty much always listen to my initial demo a few times for 1-3 days after writing the song and make changes to anything that started to seem awkward or unpolished. I would also practice the song a lot more before recording it.
I quickly realized that it was CRUCIAL for me to have a reliable and searchable repository of ideas that I could pull from when I had writer’s block. I use the Notes app for conceptual ideas and lyrical fragments, and another app called Voice Record Pro to record and organize musical ideas, as well as demos to help me remember a song I’m writing/have already written. Realistically, I won’t always be able to immediately develop an idea that comes to me, because I have a job and stuff. So I had to get very disciplined about documenting even the tiniest snippets of ideas so that they’d be available when I needed them.
You’ll make some of your best art when it feels safe to make bad art. And because it was a weekly challenge, I knew that it was fine for some of the songs to be less good than I might otherwise prefer (though I think almost all of them are at least pretty good). Jonathan Mann, who has written a song every day for 14 years running, estimates that “70% are mediocre, 20% suck and 10% are awesome.” Sitting down with my list of 52 songs and ranking them, I did the math and found that I think 33% are great, 37% are good, 19% are mediocre and 11% are bad. I’m pretty happy with those numbers!
Whenever I felt stuck, I almost always found that switching things up helped inspire me. I’d play around on different instruments, try writing to loops in GarageBand, go to a different location to write, etc. It really helps.
Songwriting boosts my self-esteem! I admire great songwriters and their craft a lot, and it makes me feel so good about myself to write songs that I think are good. All the more reason to do it more often! I think this was also largely the reason I never really “half-assed” a song during this challenge – any time I considered taking the “easy way out” (like writing a song that was really simple, bad, or based on a song I’d written before), I knew I’d be disappointed with myself if I did that, so I didn’t.
Creativity requires rest. The resting phase is part of the creative process, not separate from it. After I write a song, I typically need to take at least a few days off from trying to write another one, or it just won’t work. I can use that time to “refill the well” by consuming media on a broad range of topics that might later inspire a song.
Q. What are your favorite songs from the challenge?
A. Sorry, they’re my babies; I refuse to pick just one. Instead, I will pick eight.
I think “Brave Little Girl” has one of my best choruses of the year and does really fun things with melody and rhythm.
“Hey Ex-Boyfriend” has my favorite sentiment/message of any song this year.
I really feel like I captured exactly the experience of aging that I was trying to distill in “Thirty.”
“I Should’ve Asked” tells a complete lyrical story in a musical theatre style I’d love to do more of.
I wanted “Hasn’t Happened Yet” to have the vibe of a jazz standard (I love them), and I think I succeeded at that.
“Bad Girl” features the best song production/engineering/arranging I did all year.
“Notice Me” is my favorite song to perform in front of people at the moment.
“Dear Professor” is my actual favorite song of the entire challenge, though.
Q. But your whole thing is that you write about sex. What are the sexiest/kinkiest songs from the challenge?
A. If you want sexy and sex-adjacent, you want these:
Q. Are you going to keep writing and recording a song a week?
A. I actually have been. I don’t know how long I’ll continue it, but I felt a little sad that the challenge was ending and decided there was no reason I had to stop if I didn’t want to. You can always see the latest ones on my YouTube!
I’m not saying I’ll never cry over you again
Not promising all of the love will be gone
I’m not saying we can go back to just being friends
I’m just saying I’ve gotta try to move on
‘Cause I’m over this
All this wistfully missing your kisses
I wish that I knew what’s coming next
Chorus: But I gotta give up the ghost
Gotta set off on a brand new adventure without
The one who I love the most
No, I’m not crying; don’t know what you’re talking about
We were young, we were close
Don’t know much, but I know
It’s time that I give up the ghost
The lessons I learned from you will serve me well, I can tell
I’m sorry that I had to practice on you
It won’t be too long til I miss being under your spell
I’ll set you aside and I’ll power on through
‘Cause it’s been too long
Don’t want less than the best; I’m a mess and
I guess that I know what’s coming next
(repeat chorus)
This isn’t what I wanted
It’s like my heart is haunted
Whenever I feel cold, I know
That you’re the one who chills me so
You weren’t what I needed
By leaving, I’ve succeeded
Though it hurts in the moment, I’m glad that I’m goin’
And you should be too, now that we’re through
(repeat chorus)
Songwriting diary:
This one is silly: I was playing the latest Pokémon game, and the ghost-type gym leader has a line of dialogue after you win the battle where she says, “Givin’ up the ghost’s not really my style. I’ll let you have this one, though, baby.” It immediately made me think about a time when I was 23 or 24 and hopelessly in love with a friend who didn’t love me back in the same way, and one day I just got so sick and tired of the pining and crying and wishing and mourning that I wrote “GIVE UP THE GHOST” in big letters in my journal and decided it was time to make a concerted effort to move on.
Funnily enough, the expression “give up the ghost” actually does not mean what I thought it meant at the time, to give up on a hopeless pipe dream you’d been chasing. It actually means to die, expire, or stop functioning. But in a way, that’s apt too; it was my crush itself that had to eventually give up the ghost in order for me to move on with my life.
Anyway, when I saw that line in the Pokémon game, I thought the phrase seemed like a great potential song title, so I made a note of it and later returned to it, writing an entire set of lyrics in one go. Putting it to music the following day was fairly intuitive, as I’d been hearing a melody in my head while I wrote the words. I just basically improvised myself singing the lyrics over a simple chord progression and much of it remained as is.
Song 50/52: “Dirty Martini”
Lyrics:
Here’s to the dirty martini
It’s briny and boozy and cold
I really do think that whenever I drink
I forget that I’m gonna get old
Here’s to the dirty martini
Isn’t it gorgeous and grand?
Oh, I could never be gloomy
With a martini in my hand
Chorus: An ounce of vermouth
Two ounces of gin
Half an ounce of olive brine
And throw some ice cubes in
Then stir up your dirty martini
And strain it and sip it and smile
Forget your most troubling troubles for a while
Here’s to the dirty martini
Available at every bar
They make me feel cool and I act like a fool
And I sometimes go slightly too far
Don’t offer me peachy bellinis
Too sweet and too tart and too cute
I’m dirty just like my martinis
And salty and cold and aloof
(repeat chorus)
Then stir up your dirty martini
To ward off your worries and fears
Isn’t it nice to be drinking
A cocktail as salty as tears?
No one will know you’ve been crying
Your cocktail’s as salty as tears
Songwriting diary:
One day I sat down to record a podcast, and – as I often do – I had made myself a martini to sip while recording. As I was setting up my mic and headphones, I pondered the idea of writing an ode to the dirty martini, since it’s a drink I love. I noted some potential lines quickly before starting the podcast, and later returned to them and fleshed out the rest of the words.
However, it took a couple of rewrites to get it how I wanted it, because originally it was a fairly straightforward ode to the drink itself, but I wanted it to have more of an emotional backbone, i.e. why is the narrator of this song feeling so enthusiastic about martinis? What is she trying to cope with or avoid by drinking? So I wrote some little hints of depression, avoidant behavior and other issues (all of which I indeed have) into the song.
The production aspect of this song was one of the most fun ones of any of the songs I’ve produced this year, because I incorporated some unusual-for-me percussion. I made an audio recording of the process of making the martini you see me sipping in the video, and edited the sounds of pouring, stirring, adding ice, etc. into the appropriate spots in the song. I also asked my very talented brother Max for advice on what kind of electronic drum part I should record, and he responded by sending me a complete drum track he’d recorded himself for the song – on a very short turnaround, I might add! Max is the best.
Song 51/52: “Agony”
Lyrics:
Am I in pain? Yes, he’s hurting me
Am I in love? Almost certainly
I’m not guilty; I fell slowly
And it’s agony now
Am I upset? I suppose I am
But damn, it feels good in the throes; I am
Slightly hooked on cryptic looks
And it’s agony now
I think we can both concede
That you want and I just need
I think we can both remember
How I sound when I plead
Does it feel good? Yes, of course it does
Do you love back? Not by choice; I was
Not allowed to haunt and hound you
And it’s agony now
Are you out late and betraying me?
Will you deny that you’re playing me?
Wanting answers is a hazard
And it’s agony now
I think we can both admit
That you make me feel like shit
I think we can both remember
When I couldn’t handle it
Bags are all packed – now I’m heading out
This is the drive I’ve been dreading, but
Now I’m free and much more me and
Moving on; I’m out, I’m gone
It’s all behind me now
Songwriting diary:
The first two lines of this song (“Am I in pain? Yes, he’s hurting me/ Am I in love? Almost certainly”) popped into my head months ago and I wrote them down. I went on to chip away at writing this song over the next several weeks, eventually completing it – but I didn’t really feel happy with it, so I didn’t record it until I went on vacation to Chicago. I’d been struggling to write a song while out of my usual environment, not least because traveling is exhausting for my fibro-ridden body, so I decided to take a bit of a “vacation” from the songwriting challenge as well by recording a song I’d already written but had never recorded. (I don’t think that’s cheating, and I make the rules!)
I reused Max’s drum part from the previous week’s song, since I needed another waltzy drum part and he had kindly sent me an editable version of the track. I sped it up to suit this song and I think it worked out well.
Song 52/52: “If You’re Alone for Christmas…”
Lyrics:
If you’re alone for Christmas, I hope you make a meal
That’s every bit as warm and cozy as I hope you feel
I hope you open presents, even if they’re from yourself
They still are worth receiving, even not from someone else
I hope you light a fire to warm your little toes
I hope you’ve got hot chocolate to warm your little nose
If you’re alone for Christmas, I really hope you know:
I’ll see you in the spring; I love you so
If you’re alone for Christmas, I hope you see your luck
You get to spend your day with you; I’m jealous, what the fuck!
I hope you watch the movies you like to watch with me
Like Home Alone and Elf and your old Die Hard DVD
I hope you eat some turkey, and that it tastes like home
And that the memories tide you over when you have to be alone
If you’re alone for Christmas, I really hope you know:
I’ll see you in the spring; I love you so
I’ll see you in the spring; I love you so
Songwriting diary:
As with so many song ideas, this one came to me in the shower. I think I was pondering all the friends and family members of mine who were facing the possibility of spending their holiday season alone, due to COVID risk and other factors.
I took a first pass at the lyrics but ultimately found I just wasn’t sure what one could say to comfort someone in that situation, so I asked my social media followers what they would want to say to a loved one who had to spend the holidays alone. Two ideas that I liked and ended up incorporating came from two different friends of mine: that they’re lucky they get to spend their day with such a cool person, and that there will be other opportunities to see each other in the future if we just wait awhile.
A few days after writing and recording this song, I was on my way to a family party at which I knew I’d be performing some songs for a group of family members including some small children, so I wrote a more kid-friendly (i.e. non-profane) version of the first two lines of the second verse, which I might even like better than my original words:
If you’re alone for Christmas, I hope you know you’re blessed
You get to spend your day with you, and you’re a perfect guest
Thank you so much for joining me on this Song A Week journey this year, friends! You can read all the posts from this series in the “songwriting” tag, and check out all the songs in my A Song A Week playlist on YouTube. Happy new year!
Especially since the onset of the pandemic, the strangers I follow on social media and the online creators whose work I consume have come to feel like part of my (para)social sphere. There’s a reason I’ll sometimes half-jokingly say “I want to see my friends!” when sitting down to watch a beloved TV show, check out a favorite YouTuber’s latest video or pop into an Instagram Live of someone whose life I follow from afar.
So it feels as appropriate as ever this year to highlight some people I think are doing heroic work, whether artistically, ethically, intellectually, politically, or some combination thereof. Here are my 5 picks for the year.
When my spouse and I attended a Pride Week comedy variety show in New York this past June, we were there primarily to see the ever-hilarious Jes Tom and didn’t know many of the other acts – so when the awkward-yet-confident, androgynously-styled Hannah Einbinder strutted onto the stage, we had no idea who she was. All we knew was that we were immediately captivated by her dry wit, zany jokes, and disarming stage presence.
The emcees had mentioned that Hannah was one of the stars of a TV series called Hacks, and when we started watching it, it was hard not to immediately fall in love with Hannah’s character, Ava. Ava is a down-on-her-luck comedy writer who lands a gig ghostwriting jokes for a famous fiftysomething comedienne, Deborah Vance, who’s fallen from her former glory. But what’s most striking to me about Ava – and about Hannah too – is that she’s loudly out about being bisexual, and she’s neither a stereotyped caricature of a bisexual nor a sugarcoated figurehead of “good bisexual representation.” Ava is a flawed, messy person who can be gregarious and generous one minute and anxious and selfish the next, just like a real human – and Hannah plays her with warmth and whimsy.
As a fellow bisexual Jew with a penchant for dark jokes (and messy behavior), I find both Hannah and her character Ava very relatable, and am so glad to see someone like Hannah out in the world making people laugh. She certainly made me laugh a lot this year.
Paul is the author of the books Natural Harvest and Semenology, both cookbooks where cum is the featured ingredient in every recipe.
I have no idea what Paul is up to now, and wish I did. I attempted to get in touch with him for an interview when I wrote a piece about Semenology this year, but he didn’t reply and hasn’t tweeted since 2012. (Hope he’s okay.)
Wherever he may be, his cultural impact is undeniable. Natural Harvest is the second-most mentioned book on all of Reddit, and I’ve yet to find any other works that dive as deeply into cum cuisine as Paul’s do. As I noted in my article, not all of the recipes are winners, and one wonders what menu a professionally trained chef or bartender (of which I gather Paul is neither) would build if given the same prompt – but Paul’s work gave me a lot of delight this year, and I think that’s worth celebrating.
I would be remiss not to mention Richard C. Schwartz, Ph.D. on this list, because his work had a transformational impact on my life this year.
As I’ve chronicled in a few blog posts, I dug deeply into the therapeutic modality known as Internal Family Systems this year as part of my trauma healing process, and it is one of the only tools I’ve come across in 15+ years of therapy that has actually shifted things for me. I still struggle, for sure, but I’m much stronger and more resilient now than I was at this time last year, in large part because of the techniques and paradigm I’ve learned from Internal Family Systems.
Dr. Schwartz invented IFS by applying to individual therapy similar techniques as those he’d used with couples and families in his practice, under the assumption that each person has different sides of their personality (known as “parts”) which can be in conflict with each other, and that these parts can be soothed and taken care of by the Self in order to relieve them of their difficult emotions. It sounds super “woo” but it’s actually just a useful lens through which to look at the internal tensions between different motivations and trauma responses you may have amassed over the years.
I really feel that Dr. Schwartz’s IFS model helped turn my life around pretty dramatically this year, and I’m so very grateful to him (and to my excellent IFS-practicing therapist) for that.
Happily, there was a lot of fantastic queer media this year. To name just a few faves: Everything Everywhere All at Once, Bros, The L Word: Generation Q, Heartstopper, Tár. A couple other major standouts were Joel Kim Booster’s Netflix stand-up special Psychosexual and (even moreso) the film he wrote and starred in, Fire Island.
Fire Island is a gay rom-com, and the world sorely needs more of those. But beyond that, it’s also just a really fucking good movie. It’s a modern-day, queered adaptation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, set on the titular queer oasis that is Fire Island in the summertime. A gaggle of gay friends shows up for their annual weeklong vacation, and romantic hijinks ensue.
Booster’s sense of humor is sharp and biting, deeply millennial, distinctively queer, and shot through with relatable mental health struggles (he has bipolar disorder). He tackles tough topics like sex, race, and civil rights with ease and style. I think he’s hilarious and brilliant and am excited to see what he does next!
Upon issuing myself a songwriting challenge this year, I started looking into the work of people who had issued themselves similar challenges – and pretty much immediately stumbled across Jonathan Mann’s “Song a Day” project.
As its title suggests, Jonathan writes and records a song every day for this project, which would be amazing enough on its own – but the fact that he’s kept it going for nearly 14 years now is even more mindblowing. That’s over 5,000 songs, and counting.
In addition to this staggering daily achievement, Jonathan also works on other projects, including a podcast about his songwriting process that I really enjoyed. I find him wildly inspirational as a creator. I read an interview with him this year where he said something like, “I decided to do this because I noticed that I felt better on days when I wrote a song than on days when I didn’t, and I wanted to feel that way every day.” I am in total agreement with him, and aspire to commit to a daily practice of creativity the way he has, for reasons that go beyond the practical and ascend into the spiritual, the existential, the universal and the eternal.
I love music, as you know if you read this blog regularly. The soundtrack of my year is almost as important to me as the events of that year; the two can even shape each other at times.
So, in no particular order, here are 10 songs that made me happy this year, or helped me revel in my sadness or rage or horniness. Good music has a way of making even the hardest feelings seem not only manageable but vital to the human experience, something that links us inextricably to other people, reminding us we are never alone even when we feel like we are.
(The best way to read this post is to click “play” on each song while you read about it, so you get a sense of the vibe.)
“What would mama say?/ She’d say ‘Oh, you never know when to stop/ Like every day’s Friday night’/ I’m too drunk and I’m all in my feelings/ Oh well; now I’m high as the ceiling”
This song is the perfect musical embodiment of that moment when you realize you are, in fact, too drunk but in a way that feels like joyful surrender, like embracing the uncertainty of life, like letting the chips fall where they may.
There were many depressed days in January where this song was the only thing that could get me out of bed, so I played it on loop a lot. Nick Jonas has taken on this role in my life in several previous years too. There is something about his voice – smooth, warm, inviting – and his music – catchy, fun, effortless – that translates directly into dopamine for me. I don’t question it anymore; I just use his music as fuel, and love him for it.
One of the things I love most about this song is that it’s both happy and wistful, the way a drunken evening can feel when you’re drinking to distract yourself from heartbreak. (I even covered it as a slow waltz on the ukulele to emphasize its sadder qualities.) While I’ve quoted some lyrics above that I think are most emblematic of the song, I also want to shout out the poignant second verse, which goes, “Should I send that text? Maybe not/ But I miss that sex, quite a lot/ It’s five o’clock somewhere/ Maybe you’re somewhere/ Thinking ’bout me.” These lyrics are, as the kids are saying, a relatable mood.
“Nobody calls me daddy, sadly/ And nobody sends me nudes anymore/ But I saw your ass last night when you hung up/ And I wondered what you did that for”
I screamed when I heard this song for the first time.
I’ve written before about the low-key sexuality that occasionally oozes from the music of Brotherkenzie, the solo project of my long-time guitarist crush Nathan Stocker. Not to psychoanalyze a total stranger, but I’ve often thought his most romantic and/or sexy songs seemed to point out his daddy-esque qualities: wanting to nurture, to take care of, to treasure and spoil his loves. So, when I first heard the opening lyrics of this song (quoted above), I screeched: my suspicions had been confirmed, and it felt good to know that my “daddy-dar” is still on point even though I haven’t had to sleuth out a new daddy for several years at this point.
As with all Brotherkenzie songs, there are some parts of this song that I find lyrically inscrutable, but at its core I think it’s a song about feeling romantically bored in singledom, wondering what’s next, and hoping for exciting adventures to arise and distract you from yourself. Again: a relatable fucking mood. And I still love Nathan’s voice, guitar playing, and songwriting in a way that feels visceral and inherent.
“There’s a somebody I’m longing to see/ I hope that he turns out to be/ Someone who’ll watch over me/ I’m a little lamb who’s lost in the wood/ I know I could always be good/ To one who’ll watch over me”
I went through a phase this year where this song was basically all I wanted to listen to for a few weeks. It’s an especially gorgeous rendition of a favorite jazz standard of mine. Sarah Vaughan’s vocal control, power, and range were such that she could easily have focused her career on styles of music that many people consider technically “harder” than jazz, like opera or musical theatre – but instead she mostly focused on jazz, which can be every bit as complex and virtuosic as those other genres, and that prowess is on full display here. Her vibrato is masterful and emotive, her phrasing is exquisite, her range is unbelievable, and she brings warmth and wistfulness galore to the song. It’s a stunning recording.
I find it interesting to listen to these old love songs of yore (this one was composed by the Gershwin brothers in 1926, though this particular recording of it is from the late ’50s), because they lean so hard into old-fashioned gender norms that it almost seems kinky to a modern ear. A lot of the lyrics of this song sound to me more like a D/s relationship (in particular, a DD/lg relationship) than anything vanilla or conventional. I like that this style of helpless femininity is something many of us can deliberately opt into now, instead of being forced into that role by an oppressive society.
“I wanna be your boyfriend/ I wanna go on walks with you/ I wanna have long talks with you/ You can be my girlfriend/ I’ll compliment you frequently/ I wanna treat you decently”
I stumbled across this song by total coincidence. Several years ago, a boy I was dating sent me the Ramones song “I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend” as a sweet way of communicating his intentions toward me. (We didn’t end up dating for very long but are still on good terms.) At some point this year I wanted to hear that song but couldn’t remember what band performs it, so I asked Siri to play “I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend,” and she played me this strange, delightful track instead.
I love how this song buzzes with the energy of a new relationship, the perhaps-foolish optimism you feel at that time (“I’m not gonna make the same mistakes/ I’m not gonna run”), and the self-doubt that can also creep in when your emotions are heightened like that (“All the guys are crowded around/ They’re telling you the same things that I planned to say/ I thought I was unique/ Maybe I’m not that way”). It’s also just got one of the all-time most fun choruses to sing and dance along to, if you ask me.
“Baby, it isn’t rocket science/ Why are we complicating it?/ We’ve got a chemistry I’m liking/ And I’m feeling good ’bout giving in/ ‘Cause baby, it isn’t rocket science/ Even when it feels like it is/ I know your heart’s beating like mine is/ We don’t gotta hide it/ Baby, it’s not rocket science”
Vaultboy was one of my major musical discoveries this year; I sought out other people who’ve done songwriting challenges, as inspiration while doing my own, and stumbled across his “77-minute songwriting challenge” videos, which are incredible.
I was immediately enthralled by his ability to churn out hooky hits that get stuck in your head for days and punch you right in the heart. “Rocket Science” is one of his best, if you ask me: it’s romantic, fun, and (as with literally every Vaultboy song) criminally catchy.
The gorgeous second verse goes, “You’re telling me secrets nobody else knows/ ‘Cause I wanna know, I wanna know/ Where you might see yourself way down the road/ I wanna know, ’cause I wanna go,” and it feels like falling in love, and wanting more more more of the person you’re falling in love with. But the refrain of the song – “Baby, it’s not rocket science!” – resonates with me because I am so prone to overcomplicating love, psychoanalyzing myself and my partners to try to understand what’s happening, when instead I could (and should) just enjoy what’s happening while it’s happening. “Baby, it isn’t rocket science, even when it feels like it is.”
“I’ve been so down and under pressure/ I’m way too fine to be this stressed, yeah/ I’m not the girl I was or used to be/ Bitch, I might be better”
I love to listen to Lizzo to on days when I feel gloomy and self-critical. So much of her music is about self-love, self-acceptance, and confidence; these things come through not only lyrically but sonically too (not to mention visually in her magnificent music videos). It’s super refreshing, in a world where so much of the capitalistic machine still works daily to make us feel bad about ourselves.
I love how this song points out not just Lizzo’s current confidence and happiness, but also the journey that got her there, and the fact that it’s not always easy or instant. As with so many great songs, I deeply related to this one, especially the idea of rising from the ashes of stress and trauma, transformed into a stronger, brighter and louder version of myself, one who can strap on her “Balenciussys” and strut out into a new adventure.
This instrumental track rose to fame this year when a guy on Reddit wrote a thread about how much he likes to fuck to this song, and how much his girlfriend does not like it. Luckily for us, he identified the song in the thread so readers could listen to it – which led to it going viral and being widely mocked and revered – and it’s cringe in a way that makes the girlfriend’s position understandable.
After a lush chordal intro that makes you think the song will actually be pretty, it breaks out into a distinctively grating melody played on a high-pitched electronic instrument of some kind, and sounds a bit like a ghost climaxing, or a creaky door that someone has autotuned.
But I’ve listened to Cbat several times at this point, and weirdly, it has grown on me. Its rhythm does indeed feel appropriately paced for sex, as the original thread-writer argued, and the story behind the song’s sudden viral popularity makes it all the more amusing to listen to. I’m not sure I’ll ever have sex to this song, because I’d probably be laughing too hard to focus if I did, but I’m glad it exists and that I got to hear about it.
“I might invite you to my party/ So you can watch me dancing on somebody new/ You probably know who/ Come enjoy the view of me/ Happy with anybody but you”
Being petty after a breakup can feel like kind of a shameful thing, a conversation topic with girlfriends over martinis and fuel for pithy tweets but not something you’d proudly admit to. I love that this song makes post-breakup pettiness into something powerful, a way of reclaiming strength and agency after having it squashed out of you by a shitty partner. Golden-voiced Malia sings about inviting her ex to a party just so they can see how happy she is now, while also acknowledging that she’s not actually happy now, as evidenced by how hard she’s working to create that image.
“Anybody else will do/ Anybody but you/ I would rather spend the night with anybody in this room,” she sings, over a pop beat that makes you want to stand up, dance, and sing along. It’s a perfect post-breakup anthem and I love that it acknowledges the ways recovery from heartbreak can sometimes look like causing more heartbreak – it’s not nice, it’s not ethically good, certainly, but it’s messy and gratifying and real, and I love her for it.
“Saw it written and I saw it say/ Pink moon is on its way/ None of you stand so tall/ Pink moon is gonna get ye all”
Content note:Discussion of a possible suicide in this one.
So much has been written about this song, and the album of the same name. There’s even an entire book about it, which I read this year. Famously, the album Pink Moon (of which this song is the first track) was the last album ever completed by English singer-songwriter Nick Drake before he died of an antidepressant overdose (accidental or on purpose, we don’t know) at the age of 26. He’d previously recorded a couple of albums which hadn’t sold well at all, on which his intricate fingerpicked guitar parts and ethereal melodies had been backed up by strings, guitars, drums, and various other accompaniments. He evidently wanted to try something different on his third album, and recorded it in its entirety in late-night studio sessions on two consecutive days, just him and his guitar. This title track is the only one on which any other instruments appear at all – Nick added a sweet, spare piano overdub, and that’s all.
While there are hints, in Nick’s earlier records, of romance, optimism, and joy, this last one was recorded after severe depression got its claws into him, and it shows. The album is full of bleak themes like despair, regret, rejection, and isolation – which aligns exactly with what Nick was going through at the time, a gradual-and-then-all-at-once descent into a depression so profound that he could barely speak. Friends and colleagues have suggested that at this time in his life, listening to his songs was likely the only way you could experience Nick’s inner workings: he was monosyllabic or silent most of the time and looked catatonic with bone-heavy depression. But he was still playing guitar like a virtuoso, albeit with fingernails grown long and dirty from depressive neglect.
The song “Pink Moon” alludes mysteriously to the imminent arrival of the pink moon, which no one can run from or escape; his lyrics never make it clear whether the moon symbolizes something we should dread and fear, or something we should rejoice and wait for, vibrating with excitement. Many commentators have argued that the “pink moon” represents Nick’s depression or his ultimate demise. I don’t know the answers to these interpretive questions, and I don’t think anyone ever will, now that Nick’s been gone for nearly fifty years; all I know is that this song is so hauntingly beautiful that it transports you to an alternate reality for a couple short minutes, and that listening to a lot of Nick Drake this year made me feel less alone.
“Take off my shirt at your girlfriend’s party/ What’s it to ya?/ Nobody cares about your music/ They see right through ya/ Kissing boys, missing work/ Got hungover from your words/ Same New York, it’s the worst/ All these nights are a blur”
Jake Luppen, the lead singer of my favorite band Hippo Campus, publicly came out as queer late last year, and has spoken about how “Boys” is a song about (among other things) his queer awakening. It captures so well the flavor of excitement you feel when you’re figuring yourself out in real-time at a messy drunken party in your early twenties. To me it sounds like dancing in clubs, my sweaty body so close to some other girl’s glitter-streaked body, and learning to tolerate or satiate the intense tension between our shimmering shapes.
So much of feeling sexy is about feeling comfortable with who you are, and this song feels like the encapsulation of a moment when you get a glimpse of the “you” you want to be. Maybe it’s in a conversation with a stranger who knows nothing about your career or your past (“Nobody cares about your music/ they see right through ya“) and who therefore can serve as a blank canvas onto which you project the version of yourself you hope to become. And you see that projection, stark and inevitable, and want to dive into it the way you’d want to dive into a lake in a Bob Ross painting.
I’ve been having some convos with friends and family lately about the songwriting challenge I did this year, and have enjoyed explaining what made me want to do the challenge, what went into it, and what I took away from it. I found that lots of folks, especially other creatives, were interested in hearing about this – so I thought I’d write a blog post to wrap it all up!
I love music, as you know if you read this blog regularly. The soundtrack of my year is almost as important to me as the events of that year; the two can even shape each other at times.