My Top 19 Of 2019
A Musical Journal of a Life-Changing Year (and change)
19) “No Sleep” — Caamp
Undoubtedly, it was a lean-ish year for new music that I adored. I’ll admit that it has been tougher and tougher to listen to the younger music, and between my waning excitement for battling crowds at SXSW (I prefer the elite treatment) and my abandonment of ACL Music Festival (I’ve been doing it for so long that I’ve seen just about every band I ever wanted to see at a sweaty mosh pit of music and madness), the amount of new music I found this year was…sparse. I say all of this because my #19 entry isn’t one I listen to terribly often — or, at least, not as often as the band’s 2016 release — and I feel bad about that. But the voice of Taylor Meier is just like a soothing bath, and I’ll opt for that, every time. So, when he opens the tune in front of the sound of echoey-steel guitar, I’m calm, and I can’t deny that much soul (he doesn’t have “one more question!” of Joe, and he doesn’t owe the debts, this year, but it’s still so much soul).
18) “Hey, Ma” — Bon Iver
Speaking of voices, there’s Justin Vernon, jumping into 2019 with his ethereal delivery and electronic modulation. I think he’s actually evolved beyond making definitive sense, and has begun to leave lyrics out of lines, filling their empty spaces in with internal-speak and inside jokes that only he and a scarce few understand. It still manages to move you, as though his mind and his voice have become instruments, and this is, despite the lyrics, a mood-setting instrumental. It still chills when he says, “call your Ma, ‘Hey, Ma. Hey, Ma,’” and I can’t help but empathize with the desire.
17) “Someone New” — Mara Connor & Langhorne Slim
Why is it that the call-and-response songs between a man and a woman will always get my attention and adoration? I do not know, but this might be among the top 5 of them. It’s clearly heartbreak between them, but it’s as though they’re looking at the past with two different lenses, only agreeing that it didn’t work, and it didn’t work in a hurry. There are lines that cut through any empath like San Francisco winter — “Never were two so quick to fall apart. You and your fears, me and my broken heart. If I could take us right back to the start, I would, I would…” in the most haunting harmony recorded. It’s a monster of a song, with the simplest arrangement, so that it features the pain and the remorse with reckless abandon.
16) “All the Feels” — Fitz & the Tantrums
If 2017 was the year of evisceration and 2018 was the year of reclusion, then 2019 has to have been the year of seeking a healthier mind and heart. Tired of the callous numbness that dominated 2018, I wanted the world to move me to…well, to anything — tears, screams, furies, emotions — I wanted to have feelings again. And, combined with an excellent video that had me looking in the mirror and wondering if a transplant was necessary, I remembered that “the feels” are not something to avoid. And, thanks to Fitz and company, I just wanted them “a little bit more.” I really should have been careful what I wished for (see #1).
15) “Sun Come Down” — Chance the Rapper
There are plenty of Chance songs on his debut album (ha! ‘debut’ — he released so many tracks and mixtapes, there’s no way one can call this the debut) that could have made the list. But, despite the Spartan production and instrumentation on this track…the lyrics, which are always my focus, are savage from start to finish. It’s a song about what sort of legacy he wants to leave, in the world, among his loved ones, and with his wife and children. And when he breaks into the bridge, the old school Chance comes out and rains fire on all of his critics and detractors, leveling out and reassuring us all that when we get to the top, “don’t look down,” at the comments or the people who haven’t climbed as high. It’s heartwarming and encouraging and 100% Chance.
14) “Can’t Stop” — Earl St.Clair
This spot shifted about three times, but always belonged to Earl St. Clair, who is one of my favorite finds of the past decade. He is the male counterpart of Lizzo (don’t worry, my queen is on this list. We’ll get there.), and his message is honest, meaning it’s full of hope, but taken with more than a grain of reality. In the song, he’s discovered who he is, what he wants, and how fruitless it is to try to change him, now that this discovery has taken hold. At the end of 2019, that might not have been the most relatable message, but with 2020 off to its raucous start and everyone I hold dear getting swept up in sweeping changes — sometimes internal, sometimes very profoundly external — I find it only grows in relevance. “It may not get good now, it might get worse. The world don’t care that much ‘bout your hard work. When times get hard, that’s when I get going, ’cause I can’t stop. I won’t stop…” That’s the mantra.
13) “Nightmare” — Halsey
I hear Jack Black from High Fidelity in my head, shaming me for this choice. It’s hard to deny Halsey’s tornadic activity in modern music. She’s not a fad, she’s no one’s baby, and she has the chops to go from kind and gentle lilt to full-throated grunge screech. I’ve loved her sound since I saw her on “Roadies” (yes, I was late to her party). But, beyond the curb appeal of her voice and attitude, the lyrics hidden in this track are both energizing and biting in their delivery. It’s a tacit manifesto for overthrowing an establishment that’s kept women in the position of lesser or inferior, and the poetry reflects true rage: “I’ve been polite, but won’t be caught dead…Lettin’ a man tell me what I should do in my bed…I could play nice or I could be a bully. I’m tired and angry, but somebody should be.” Damn right. We all should be.
12) “All Some Kind of Dream” — Josh Ritter
The past three years have been full of tumult for the United States. Whatever ‘team’ you may back, it seems that we, as a nation, are going through a prolonged (though also delayed) adolescence, wherein we’re at war with ourselves with no plausible exit strategy. For me, this has been a particularly trying few years as we’ve borne witness to the slow demise of compromise, followed closely by the erosion of civility, and, at long last, the death of compassion. Ritter evokes the best 8 minutes of television from Aaron Sorkin’s “The Newsroom,” when the protagonist calls out the U.S. for how far it has fallen short of its potential. The juxtaposition of the dream that America was, alongside the fact that he wishes this current iteration was just a nightmare, is impressive work for an already impressive artist.
11) “Light As A Feather” — Ed Prosek
If there’s a theme for 2019, where I’m concerned, it has to be angst and a genuine search for identity. Were I a few years older, I’d suspect a mid-life crisis. But it was something stranger. It was an insistent questioning. It peered around the edge of my periphery, and stared me down until it found purchase. To that end, Ed Prosek arrived, begging that the heaviness he feels would be relieved. He is looking for a world to settle in, as he moves through a complicated life; and he begs to the heavens that he’d just let go and end up wherever it is the universe or God or destiny is leading him. He’s tired of sinking and just wants to find his place, somehow, because he’s not sure if he’s the chisel or the clay. Same, Ed. Same.
10) “Better In The Morning” — Birdtalker
Christian music is terrible. The church has propped it up with repetition, and when one song is endorsed as better than the others, it gets played over and again, with impunity and no care or concern for whether the message is a rehashed version of the same old tropes or not (they always are…there’s nothing new under the Christian music sun). A few years ago, Birdtalker released a song called “Graveclothes” that not only delivered a Christian message, but did it with a reckless disregard for the traditional “alleluia.” It moved. Further releases were equally insightful, but it wasn’t until they spoke from their doubt, from their absolute failings, in whatever measures they came — past traumas, bad decisions, exhaustion, and maybe even some truly awful things — that things really come forward. And it repeats a mantra that is at the heart of true faith: “I will do better in the morning.” Despite the curse word, which is 1000% effective and perfect, this is what Christian music should aspire to be.
9) “Stay High” — Brittany Howard
I could go through a “Song Exploder” like diatribe about how this song was put together. I could break down the old school vocals, the pizzicato-like sounds, and the driving bass line. I could even get into the lyrics and uncover how delicious it is, after a long day, to just spend it with the people you want to spend it with (or, in cases, the person)…and that, no matter what has happened, it’s enough…and you feel like doing it again. But all of that would rob the overall impression the song leaves. “Stay High” is a whole mood, and what it evokes, it does so, effortlessly. You want to linger in that sound and drift away, and there’s no real way to quantify that. It’s a simple pleasure, which, of course, the song is all about.
8) “Juice” — Lizzo
Well, by now, the whole world has lost its collective mind about Lizzo. Hard to believe that, four years ago, she was selling a soon-to-be hit single at SXSW. Then, two years later, she still hadn’t broken through and performed the most talked-about set at the Vox party (I sacrificed my ticket for a friend…and still regret it greatly, though not when she talks about how fun it was). And, suddenly, in 2019, she dropped a new song. “Juice” made me laugh from the get-go. The video is set to old 80s advertisements — think QVC and Jheri Curl ads — and just made the whole world pay attention. Since then, it’s been wave after wave of Lizzo, which is hard to argue with, since her performances are so infectious and her tunes so uplifting. The world almost has fatigue from all the Lizzo. But, if you listen to “Juice” just one more time…it still slaps. And that’s staying power worth noting.
7) “Harmony Hall” — Vampire Weekend
Lose members, go in stripped-down directions, throw a reggae/island beat behind the production, and it simply doesn’t matter. Vampire Weekend is still incredibly good. The guitar intro from this song is more than enough to invite every listener to listen for just a little longer, and perhaps long enough to get to the vocals, which dance in lightly before delivering the chorus that shifts into a rebuke of all of us who worry (which is everyone), and all of us who feel stuck (which is plenty of us, myself included). “I don’t want to live like this, but I don’t want to die,” the song rails. And then it follows that dark truth up with that guitar that climbs upward to the roofs of Harmony Hall, and to the heights of our own hopes.
6) “The Daughters” — Little Big Town
Let it be known, I loathe modern Country Music. I have done so for around 15 years, because it just kept saying the same things that rap descended into, but from a different vantage — spinners and hydraulics were replaced by lift-packages and trailer hitches, repping the ‘hood was replaced by standing for the flag — and it all just got so conceited and self-congratulatory. But, beneath it (and in another genre), something was stirring. Brandi Carlile was emerging on the scene and her paved roads made way for Sturgill Simpson and Jason Isbell to find purchase in the format. And that’s when the powerhouse vocalists in bands like Delta Rae, Joseph, and Little Big Town turned Country Music’s attention away from bragging and toward real elements of emotion, social awareness, and honesty. Little Big Town, not on my radar in years past (even though I loaned my editing voice to a friend’s article about them), showed up this year with a song that broke my heart, but not for my own concerns. It broke my heart for my daughters — Krystian and Angel. They’ve been born into a world that discounts them, solely because they are women. It tells them that they’re less-than, while having to forever strive to look better, work harder, hold it all together, and do all this in support to men. The old tropes are there, but now sharpened to arrows and sent hurling back at their origin. They sing, “…pose like a trophy on a shelf. Dream for everyone, but not yourself…” And the response from Little Big Town is my absolute heart for them, that they’ll likely never know. It has me furious at this society, at how cruel it can be, and at the church, itself, for falling into such an inequity as sexism…for decades. I, too, have heard of God the Son and God the Father…”I’m still looking for a God for the daughters.” Yeah. I cry almost every time I hear this song. (of note: I urge you to watch the video, not just listen to the tune)
5) “Joyride” — Adam Melchor
I would say we need to lighten it up, but that wouldn’t necessarily be honest. Besides, I think there’s at least ONE song left on this list that’s more of a frivolous and fun tune. Because, despite the mariachi-influenced trumpet that opens Adam Melchor’s song, and the languid and comfortable melody that accompanies the entire tune, the subject matter is all about regret, alongside all the things we, as humans, do so wrong. We put off enjoying so much until we think we’ll have the time to — money, friendships, cars, experiences. We don’t just surrender to the enjoyment of things without thinking about the practical consequences or costs…or the RISK. And we neglect the joy by avoiding the risk. They have an old beater car in the song, and someone steals it. They didn’t much notice it was gone, didn’t love it, but imagine someone’s taken it for a joyride, for the pure delight of taking a car you don’t own, foot-down, all-out, on an epic run… and wonder why they hadn’t thought to do that, first.
4) “I Love You. It’s a Fever Dream” — The Tallest Man On Earth
This slot belonged to The Tallest Man On Earth, no matter what happened. But, for the longest time, it was “I’m A Stranger Now”, the first single of his album that shares this track’s title. But, after the end of 2019 and the beginning of 2020 and how it reshaped the world I live in, in echo after echo, from relationship after relationship (I mean, exes got married, I ran into the only person I’d run out of a room if I saw them again…and didn’t run, I’ve gotten into three fights with my closest friends about how I’ve been removed from myself for a decade…and I went truly nutty as a result), and then there’s the awakening that I pray sticks…
It all shifts how I hear the world, and I can’t ignore “I Love You, It’s A Fever Dream” anymore. More than almost any song on the list, this track is profoundly me. I am unapologetic. This is who I am: moody, pensive, indulgent, dramatic, and still hopeful, regardless of all else. I still believe that love will win. I still believe that I will never fully lose the battle to the apathetic practicality that haunts so many of us in this world, for safety’s sake (see previous song choice). And that means I hear every emotion in Kristian Matsson’s lyrics, “Will I get it right this time? I’ll be the star of all this beaten rain. It’s a big refrain after all…But I keep the hope I carry — Little things so I can love, wherever I go now.”
In mood, in sad optimism, and in the way I want to live my life, moving forward…this is my song, and maybe the most personal choice, this year (almost).
3) “Sisyphus” — Andrew Bird
Released in the first month of 2019, Andrew Bird’s ode to the quixotic takes a ride through Greek tragedy and lands at somewhere that we all can understand. He lodges a whistled tune into your soul to begin the song and then tells the story of our own Sisyphean efforts in life…that maybe we should take these menial tasks we do to get ahead, that we wash, rinse, and repeat…and just let them go, because the life that built those dynamics needs to end. I’m certain we all have repetitive patterns in our lives, routines that negatively reinforce themselves, routines that if we could just let go of them, we might be able to enjoy what our life is trying to gift us. And he talks about how cowardly it is to just repeat the same patterns because we feel beholden or obligated to them. “I’d rather fail like a mortal than flail like a god on a lightning rod. History forgets the moderates.” It’s our very own claim that we’d “rather burn out than to fade away,” and I’m listening. Hope you are, too.
2) “Sunflower” — Post Malone
There has to be some light in here, and with a scant few lyrics of note (or even, of sense), Post Malone, the ubiquitous persona I’ve managed to avoid for the past few years, crashes the party by decimating the field. Looking back at all the tunes he lists higher than, I’m still amazed. But, there was a conspiracy afoot in this choice. First, the song is heavily featured in my favorite movie of 2018 and early 2019, “Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse,” where it does nothing but bring a smile to the film. Further, my embrace of this song made me almost cool to my girls, the power of which one cannot discount. But, it was also a significant part of the mechanism that gave my no-rhythm-having self a remote sense of it. Beat Saber, a VR Dance Dance Revolution knock-off (but with lightsabers), featured the song in its gameplay, and I was hooked.
The beat, the nonsense lyrics, the repetitive chorus, as well as the cadence of Malone’s delivery all make it infinitely groovable. Not danceable, exactly, but GROOVEABLE. Top down in a convertible or windows down in a sedan, this is a song for rolling through and chilling out. At its core, the song is a warning to a wonderful person, explaining that they’re amazing when they’re together…that the love is “too much”, but that it’s on a precipice, because it all depends on wonder-twin powers…and in their own chaotic way, they’re both fighting to keep something happening. It’s pretty. It’s immensely enjoyable. The bridge is, as the kids say, fire. It all works. And with the most plays since January of 2019, it had to be at or right next to the top. Except…
1) Except “best of” playlists are made in January. Of the following year.
My January 2020 was a marathon. A cherished friend moved to North Carolina for the foreseeable future. That’s after a cancer scare they had at the end of 2019. I spent a scandalous amount of time in Austin, and it (re)filled me with a strong desire to return to a city that knows every corner of me and cares for me in excess. I had a far-too-cathartic Music Club meeting that brought me to actual tears (a sight that’s not been witnessed since 2017). I attended my fourth San Antonio Cocktail Conference, and navigated somewhat aimlessly through a lot of static in my head. I got into gargantuan fights with two of my absolute best friends. And I was shaken to confront some very real issues in me, as someone I value more than even I knew unearthed just how long it has been since I truly cared about people with my whole self (been about a decade, for those not reading the other writings in my TLDR posts).
Let me tell you, it was enough to make me retreat back into a bomb shelter built of pure apathy that I’ve spent a decade building. And that’s before running into the most damaging ex-girlfriend from my past, after not seeing her for 20 years. Oh, and there was a pretty strange wedding I did not attend, but rippled into my world more than a little. It was time, for all intents and purposes, to walk from this all, cash out everything and head south with no more than a few bags and a 28 hour playlist.
Track one of that playlist would argue with that ending.
It’s a simple song that harassed me all year, even though I was working overtime to not let it in. The key to its power was the opening line, sung so earnestly that it stuck around and surprised me everywhere. I didn’t know for certain what the song was, peeking around corners like it was doing, but I could replicate that first line since the moment I heard it, some time in January of 2019 (thanks, Music Club). It’s rattled over and again in my brain, and has been sent in my head a thousand times to all the friends I’ve wronged…or been too “extra” towards…or, worse, ignored entirely out of some sense of self-protection or pride…or, still worse, lied to…or just not been myself around (yeah, one of those is probably familiar to you)…
The line is, “Would you believe me now, if I told you I got caught up in a wave?”
I smile and share the details and basic reactions of my life with a host of people (like you). I offer opinions and sometimes even touch on things I genuinely feel. It’s like when I talk about art, and I’m asked who my favorite visual artist is, I vacillate between Jasper Johns, Roy Lichtenstein, and Rene Magritte…mostly because those are names that people know and they’re respectable answers and I love all of their work. The truth, however, is that I’ve been claimed since 1992 by Hokusai and his Great Wave Off Kanagawa. I imagine the wave is the challenges of one’s own past, the oarsmen in the boat are me, and Mt. Fuji is the long arduous path to a successful life. The oarsmen can’t even get over their own challenges to begin the trek towards triumph, which presents another, different challenge, all unto itself. Still, the wave is there to sweep them away, with no regard for anything but its hunger.
“Would you believe me now, if I told you I got caught up in a wave?”
I could go through every line of the song that’s taken its share of blood from me, as well as every verse I’d like to send to people as a better-than-I-can-explain rationale for a decade of idiocy and a 2019/early 2020 of grievous errors. The live wire that 2020 has exposed is desperate to tell people that “I’m vulnerable in oh so many ways.” And if that sounds too emotional or too squishy, it’s because that’s really who I am.
I have cursed Maggie Rogers all year, not giving her song any footing in my top songs, but when I kept going back to the number of plays in my library as I was making this list, this track kept climbing higher. She was summiting Fuji, and I am now bound to follow. So, if I’ve managed to make a mess of our relationship (you who is reading this) please know that this is my anthem and I hope you hear it. I can’t say it any better than Maggie does.
“If you keep reaching out, then I’ll keep coming back. If you’re gone for good, then I’m ok with that. But if you leave the light on, I’ll leave the light on.
I am finding out, there’s just no other way that I’m still dancing at the end of the day…”
2019’s #1 is “Light On” — Maggie Rogers (and I’m sharing the version that best captures everything I feel when I hear this song…her recording with La Blogotheque — please watch and listen and know…I got caught up in a wave…almost gave it away…I was terrified for days, thought I was gonna break…)
