Nightswimming is a weekly exploration of music news, reviews, and other things of that sort. If you’re reading this and you haven’t subscribed yet, you can rectify that here:
Once again, December has arrived, and we find ourselves in one of the most hallowed, highly-anticipated times of the year. No, not Christmas. Not Kwanzaa either, or Hanukkah or Festivus or even Toyotathon. I'm talking about the one event each year that brings us all together: Spotify Wrapped. A time for sharing, a time for reflection, a time to realize with a shiver exactly how much of your year you spent listening to [insert your favorite artist].
There are some, however, who would ruin this time for the rest of us. Not the anti-Wrappers, no. I still have hope for them. One of these days those scrobble Scrooges will get a visit from the ghost of playlists past and come to understand the reason for the season. The people I keep a lookout for are often too enthusiastic, too determined to show you exactly how good their taste in music is. They'll take great pains to point out their underground tastes, making note of all the bands you've never heard of and all the hyper-specific sub-genres they adore.
And, of course, if they truly do love listening to Alt-Ambient, or Hyper-Classical, or Indie Jazz-Folk, then I have no bones to pick with them. They mind their business & I’ll mind mine. My issue lies with the ones who would weaponize their taste against the music they deem inferior, and - by extension - the people who listen to it. As we each make our way through our own individual year-in-review playlists, we've all had a few surprises. Some we'd be proud to tell the world, others, perhaps... less so. The songs we think reflect poorly on our own taste. Guilty pleasures, if you will.
But I don't believe in guilty pleasures. Music is made to be enjoyed. If you enjoy it, then, why feel guilty about it? Show it off with pride! Blast it from your car, windows down, and scream along! Let everyone know how much you love that one song from 2013! When parties someday return, I dare you to get on aux and play the one song you’re most embarrassed to love. You’ll be surprised by how many other people are right there with you*.
I have, over the years, tried to be as open as I can about the music that could be considered my "guilty pleasures." Part of this is an attempt at self-awareness; there's nothing worse than a shaggy haired college boy who can quote Dylan on command and who only listens to "real music" (read that phrase in your most insufferable voice). Damn right I only listen to real music! I have been, I would wager, the state of Virginia’s most fervent evangelist for Avril Lavigne's "Complicated" in the last decade. More recently, my girlfriend has sold me on the merits of One Direction's 2014 hit "Steal My Girl" (and, to her dismay, "Act My Age," but that's neither here nor there). Perhaps most controversially of all (and this is usually where I start to lose people), I have always and will always maintain that Matchbox Twenty's first album, 1996's Yourself or Somebody Like You, is a great album. I'm sorry, I'm not backing down on this one.
We, as a society, have moved past guilty pleasures. In a totally democratized music world, there's no need for anyone to be listening to anything but exactly what they want to be listening to. Almost nobody’s going out and spending their hard-earned cash for, say, the new Captain & Tennille record. What, then, is there to be guilty about? Ultimately, the only ones likely to support listening shame are the ones who've built their whole personalities on their taste. They're not fooling anyone, though. We know they've got a few songs buried in their closets like the rest of us.
Well let them hide in their shame, I say. Their loss. Me? I'll be listening to"3 AM" at full blast, and there's nothing anybody can do to stop me.
*I feel a certain obligation to disclose here that I was once kicked off aux at a party for playing Edwin Starr’s “War.” That, however, is a story for another time.
Recommended Reading
The pieces I published this week, conveniently congregated in a lovely little list:
In One Ear
A brief check-in as to what I've been listening to these lately:
Mercedes Sosa En Argentina- Mercedes Sosa
After having been exiled for years, Mercedes Sosa returned to Argentina, triumphant, in 1982. This album is essentially a highlight reel from her first tour back on her home turf. For 72 minutes, gentle nylon-string guitars rise and fall behind her beautiful vocal performance, crystal clear and so immediate it feels like Sosa is right there in front of you. I find this album thoroughly moving and I can't understand a word of it. I speak less Spanish than a can of beans, and yet this album still hits me hard. If that's not testament enough to the power of the music, I'm not sure what else you're looking for.
The Crane Wife- The Decemberists
For better or for worse, I've been getting really into online chess lately. While those who know me personally are surely unsurprised, I'm still a little sheepish. This album, however, has become one of my favorite soundtracks to my bouts on the board. It’s a modern Indie classic, complete with songs like "The Crane Wife 3," "O Valencia!" and "Sons & Daughters," not to mention one of my favorite album covers ever. Between its primarily acoustic instrumentation and well-read lyrics (not to mention lead singer Colin Meloy's distinctive voice), this album is just dorky enough to make the perfect backdrop to a losing game of chess.
My Spotify Wrapped Playlist
I mean come on, what's not to like about a playlist of songs you have been algorithmically proven to love?
"Light On (La Blogotheque version)" - Maggie Rogers
I never thought I would see a live clip with a plot twist... I was wrong! This is undoubtedly my favorite Maggie Rogers song, but this performance takes it to the next level.
This Week's Mixtape
Each edition of Nightswimming will come complete with a companion mixtape. Some of the songs relate to this week's newsletter, others not at all. As with any mixtape, listening in order is recommended, but if you don't have Spotify Premium or - heaven forbid - you just prefer to shuffle, then don't worry. The songs are still great, and nothing's set to self destruct.
or listen here.
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David Lefkowitz is a writer, musician, and former Latin NHS president. His work has been featured by Melted Magazine, The Outbound Collective, and Vinyl Tap Magazine, among others.