Year’s Over. Everybody Out.

In the late days of December, people reflect. We leverage the accomplishments we’ve made throughout the year against our guilt for whatever we messed up, or didn’t get around to.

I can’t get into all that. My poor memory and lack of concern for goal-setting keeps me outside of that mindset.

My end of year ritual is, of course, related to music. What songs provided the soundtrack to my life for the past twelve months? What tracks did I lean on to celebrate, mourn, or decide to make changes to? Which of my favorite artists validated my favoritism, and who came out of nowhere to catch my attention in a new way?

Here’s my list.

Charli XCX – Gone

There is no shortage of songs about isolation or not fitting in. Charli nailed it with this jam about a party filled with people who make you feel gross, disconnected and unable to relate on any level. Parties like this make you want to run back home and stay there for the next social events that pop up. “I feel so unstable, fucking hate these people, how they’re making me feel.” She paints a picture all too familiar for a lot of us, and validates the feeling of being the weirdo around people who luxuriate in the crowd, feeling no pain. The key message is, perhaps they’re the majority, and maybe I’m the weird one, but fuck them anyway. I’m leaving. 

Marina – Orange Trees

And we’re back to escapism. Marina stepped out of the shadows to return without “the Diamonds” this year, perhaps to be more authentic, stripped down or less of a pop product than what she had presented in the past. In any case, her dual release Love + Fear hit many different themes. The stand out track was one about simplifying and eliminating modern-day stresses. Sometimes the best solution to your problems is to roll back to your origins and keep it light. “Living life was supposed to be…flowers in my hair, I belong by the sea. Where we used to be. Sitting by the orange trees.” The sedating effect is powerful, but feels light and cozy. This track carried me through spring and summer, and I still find myself reaching for it when I’ve had enough of the real world.

Carly Rae Jepsen – For Sure

Minimalism is a weapon only effectively wielded by those with a talent for discretion and the intuitive ability to self-edit. I don’t have any of those qualities, but I love people who do. Enter Carly Rae. She earned her stripes for making a little song that says a ton in “For Sure,” which is basically about the snapshot moment when your relationship is drying up and your heart is basically the center of a Venn diagram; showing turmoil from clinging to the love that you once had and moving past it all. “I’ve been thinking, we were over. I’ve been thinking, got to know for sure..” repeats over and over with only a few other lines interjected. The message grows stronger and stronger at each interval, making you really pause to think about what you want and what you NEED. The melody slowly builds, until you’re in a jumping, blissful rhythm backed by steady claps and chanting. You feel good about taking that jump, and whatever lies beyond this point can only be better for your head and your heart. Sidebar: I’ve never listened to this song just once. I’ll usually take three plays at a time before I can continue my day.

Miley Cyrus – Slide Away

Miley has a talent to annoy the shit out of me while still periodically churning out a song that earns a pass. This single seemed to come from nowhere, but landed with a crash and rippling waves for weeks after it’s release. The story is sorrowful, but not pitiful. Her long drawn-out relationship has dried up and died, and she’s picking up her things and going…somewhere. Even without the Hollywood romance story that is her life, the song stands strong. Her restraint in her mid-tempo verses is oddly fitting for her. The strings behind this song give texture to the point that you can actually visualize the sun setting on summer, or whatever chapter in life that’s fading out.

Roisin Murphy – Incapable

In her masterfully weird way, Roisin gets us on the same page as her, even though she’s painting a picture of being inhuman and feeling a void where she believes love should be. “Never had a broken heart. Am I incapable of love?” she insists. She’s immune here, and wonders–without longing-what it would be like to exist among the rest of us who have experienced the fuzzy warmth of amorous bliss paired with the inevitable, jagged pain of losing it all. During the smooth disco beat that carries the over eight-minute track, she makes the listener wonder, should we feel bad for her? Or has she got it figured out better than the rest of us?

Brooks & Dunn Feat. Kacey Musgraves – Neon Moon

Kacey nailed this version of a track from the country group that I don’t know anything about. I didn’t know of it’s existence until she busted it out at a concert in the early Autumn. I was taken way aback. She brought so much introspective pensiveness, making the song feel like her own. “No telling how many tears I’ve sat here and cried. Or how many lies that I’ve lied, telling my poor heart he’ll come back some day.” She’s a wandering mess, but she’ll be fine, guided by the reliable glow of the Neon Moon.

Kanye West – Water

Yes, Kanye is up to some bullshit yet again, but this time he’s shoving Jesus down our throats. It’s an annoying album concept and you can feel Gen Z outstretching their hands, unsure if it’s “fire” or not. The standout on his recent gospel album is “Water.” It’s smooth and easy, and really catchy. His verses feel light, and his tone lacks the harshness that we’re accustomed to with ‘Ye, but this somehow works for him. It’s one of the most repeatable songs he has released since The Life of Pablo, save for a few of the Kids See Ghosts tracks. Even if he’s on another plane than most of his audiences who, statistically speaking, are less religious than any generation before, it’s a nice departure from the volatility of….everything going on right now.

Robyn – Dancing On My Own

I know. This isn’t a new song. Not even close, actually. Even though it’s nearing it’s ten year anniversary of hitting our ears like a swinging brick, this song found more relevance in 2019 than perhaps ever before. From film placements (“Teen Spirit” and “Long Shot”) to that infamous NYC subway sing-along, everybody seemed to grasp for this song more and more this year, to the point that it finally became certified platinum in the US. It got shout-outs from nearly every “end-of-2010’s” article, including #3 out of 200 for Pitchfork, and even claimed Rolling Stone’s pick for the #1 song of the decade. If you don’t think you know this song, you do. If you don’t think you love it, you will. Robyn was the original sad gal in the club, and despite whatever pain she was going through in the midst of celebrating, raging and unaware people, she acknowledged the worst of it, and kept dancing, on her own.