• 10 Dec, 2025 *

Here’s a light-hearted piece, yet still congruent with blogging to save my soul.

I’ve been going on deep dives in music over the last three months. My music taste in the decade prior was pretty much stable, but when I unsubscribed from Spotify (because of its CEO’s investments in AI weapons), I returned to old school music players: a first-gen iPod nano (with a solid one gigabyte of storage!) and a first-gen iPhone SE (from 2017, with 32 GB of storage).

These devices aren’t just music players—they’re also time machines: using them takes me back to my high school years when I would find and diligently curate my music. It mattered to me, then, that what I listened to reflected my personality, and honestly? It still matters. Although music has been hyper-commodified in the age of streaming, it can still be personally experienced and enjoyed.

But now I’m waxing philosophical when I really just want to share some songs I like. The following make up a portion of the playlist I’ve been relying on while I try to make sense of my life. They’re gems I’ve discovered only recently for myself.

The first is "shanty" by Slowdive. I heard them early on in my exploration of shoegaze, which has become one of my favourite genres because it’s the sonic equivalent of being wrapped up in a warm blanket against the cold days doled out by life. I admire the band’s history: they were at the start of the shoegaze scene in the 1990s, got wrecked by music journalism at the time (despite being adored initially, they needed to be sacrificed for the then-emerging grunge scene), disbanded, and then reunited more than two decades later. Their two albums since reforming are solid shoegaze offerings. "shanty" is the opening track of their latest album, and that introduction with the ripping guitar (sorry, I’m not a musician so don’t know the technical terms, but you’ll know what I’m talking about within a minute) just screams confidence. Confidence that is, in the case of Slowdive, more than fairly earned and deserved.

Slowdive might be my favourite shoegaze band, but my favourite shoegaze album is Loveless by My Bloody Valentine. I know it’s a bit of a cliché, but for what it’s worth, I didn’t get it the first time I pressed play. Because, as fans of the genre know, it doesn’t sound like anything I had heard before. I simply didn’t have the awareness of what my ears were being subjected to—is anyone prepared for what "Only Shallow" has in store for them the first time? But after getting familiar with the genre, one night I pressed play and for the duration of the album I was entranced. It registered something within me. And in the sea of that sonic experience, "To Here Knows When" stood out as the peak for me. There’s a subtle sense of hope beneath the heaviness, can you hear it?

When I read up on shoegaze to contextualize my listening (an effort to be more mindful and deliberate in the experience), I kept seeing a funny name: Cocteau Twins. Though Heaven or Las Vegas is influential (in dream pop, a genre adjacent to shoegaze), I was introduced to them by way of Treasure, and my goodness, what a find that was. "Lorelei" is otherworldly, but it contains what I like about this sort of music: the voice is an instrument in and of itself. I still can’t make out what Elizabeth Fraser is saying without looking up lyrics (and even then remain skeptical of accuracy), but her voice (especially in the "without a doubt" segment) is divine.

Following shoegaze, I expanded into dream pop and explored contemporary works. Beach House has a discography worth exploring. The music is more artsy than what I’m used to, but it’s fun to see experimentation in action. I’ve been playing on repeat the aptly named "Over and Over", which contains a measure of melancholy that I find comforting. The segment that begins around 2:57 transforms that melancholy into material for change, for progression. I like to think the song is a reminder that whatever I’m going through these days will, as with everything else I’ve experienced, also pass. And that then the good days will also fade back into difficult ones, repeating the cycle, over and over. There’s comfort in that reminder, to be sure.

By now, dear reader/listener, you may have noticed I like songs with long instrumental sections, particularly involving guitars. "I Heard You Looking" by Yo La Tengo is exemplary. It’s the song I put on to think of who/where I’ve been, and who/where I might be someday. It’s the song I listen to as an indulgence when thinking of my faraway muse. Like my prior entries, it contains tension, suggesting that hope without struggle is not worthwhile. That hope requires adversity in order to have merit. That a simple melody played across seven minutes can invoke that realization is powerful, indeed.

Another example of a hopeful guitar, "Push" by the Cure (a band I plan to enjoy slowly over time!) has a two-minute intro that feels just right. It’s the song I imagine playing before the big moments in my life to rally my spirit.

Another one by the Cure. "Doing the Unstuck" is the song that best captures my day-to-day experience of feeling stuck (of course) and desiring to get out of it. I imagine Robert Smith next to me, offering a hand to help me get up from the ground. How can I wallow in self-pity and feel helpless when he’s encouraging me?

I actually didn’t know how long this post was going to be when I started writing. I think I could keep going, but let’s not spoil a good thing. (I could do sequel posts to share and write about many other bands and songs I’ve encountered.) Still, I wanted to close with this one: "Golden Hair" by Slowdive, recorded around the time of their reunion in 2014. Originally a song by Syd Barrett (of Pink Floyd, a band I only just got into a few days ago!), Slowdive made it their own back in the 90s. But I’m drawn to this version because it’s confident and patient and certain of itself—the traits I wish to embody as I figure out my life and save my soul.