To begin with ... everything
I was pointlessly cutting things out of the Sunday paper with my X-Acto blade and re-watching Almost Famous when I heard the last couple lines of the movie for the first time in … fifteen years? Longer?
"What do you love about music?" William asks Russell.
I had picked up an external CD drive and I’ve been going through my old CD binder, ripping tracks to my hard drive that you can’t find on the streaming services. Like that live version of The Hippos playing "Lost It" that was only ever released on the Vagrant Records Five Years on the Streets compilation CD. Can’t get that on Spotify.
There are a handful of DVDs mixed in the sleeves. One of those is Almost Famous. I’m sure I could find it streaming in HD on one of the many services, but I rigged my computer up to the TV to watch it from my old DVD. And by “my old DVD” I mean my older brother's old DVD. The same DVD I watched at least a dozen times on a large bulky cathode-ray tube TV over twenty years ago.
When I was in Santa Cruz I read this musical memoir by Eric Spitznagel called Old Records Never Die, in which he ventures around, from his old hometown's thrift shops to regional vinyl record conventions, trying to track down the albums that he had as a kid. Not different copies. The same exact physical albums. You do dumb things for the things you love.
"To begin with ...," Russell says as he flips around a chair and slides in close to William’s microphone, "everything."
Almost Famous —both the screenplay and the scratched-to-hell DVD— still plays exceptionally well. Even if I believe that Cameron Crowe mostly made it to brag to the entire world about how he lost his virginity to a cadre of groupies. It's a good movie.
I burned this playlist to a CD-R and made a mess cutting and gluing together its album art. Then I walked it down to the local post office to ship across the country to a couple of old friends. Because making it is the thing; I don't need to hold onto it. And to them, mostly, because the bar that I think about when I listen to the Joyce Manor track reminds me of them and that era of my life. And I've been listening to that track, and really that entire album, a lot these past couple weeks. There's a special place in heaven for punk bands who make 9-track albums that clock in under 20 minutes. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory.
I don’t know that there’s an underlying theme to all of these tracks in this order, but let’s just say it’s: What do you love about music?
Waaves - “Bozo”
It’s 2006 and I’m sitting in a basement, reading the liner notes from the freshly delivered double LP of Bright Eyes rarities that is spinning on the turntable. The first track starts with two solid minutes of a collage of background chatter before Conor Oberst’s bare voice battles through an a cappella track called “Mirrors and Fevers.” In the liner notes he writes that they always try to start off an album with something “cumbersome” to “ward off casual listeners.”
I suppose that’s not completely without merit. At the time he was a twenty-something wunderkind whom rock critics were trying to call the next Dylan. He was walking a line.
I’m not Conor Oberst. We’re coming out of the gate with a 42-second track from Waaves that just rips. There’s a never-ending supply of songs you’ve already heard before that are just a few taps of your smudgy phone screen away. I’m not trying to weed anyone out of listening to new music. We start fast and strong.
Illuminati Hotties - “Skateboard Tattoo”
I don’t have any tattoos. I don’t know that I want one. But when I was much younger the idea of getting one kinda freaked me out. They were forever. That’s a funny idea now after the smallest amount of time has passed. What is forever? Get the tattoo if you want it. Try not to get a bad one, but realize you’ll probably be okay with it when you do.
Hot Mulligan - “I Don’t Think It’s the Right Time for Emojis”
The last time I saw Hot Mulligan was from across the outfield of a minor league ballpark a half-hour south of Pittsburgh. I didn’t want to give up my spot so close to the main stage where blink-182 would shortly be closing out the night. So as Hot Mulligan played from the warning track of right field, I watched from shallow left. They played a tight festival set, not wasting any time talking between songs, until right before their last one, when they thanked the crowd and mentioned how nice the guys from Bowling for Soup were.
Winona Fighter - “Wlbrn St Tvrn”
One of my fondest memories playing sports happened when I was 19 or 20, playing in an adult hockey league in Philadelphia. We’re all collapsed deep in our defensive zone when somehow the puck is sent bouncing towards center ice. I’m the closest to it, so I take off. If I can catch up with it and get around a single flat-footed defender, I’ll have a clear breakaway from the logo in. I’m flying. I collect it in motion and look up just in time to see the much, much larger defender step in front of my path. He’s braced for the collision; I am not. I’m a rag doll. My gloves and skates probably didn’t come flying off, but in my mind’s eye, they do. I’m absolutely clobbered. I don’t know that a penalty actually occurred, but they had to call one after seeing me get wrecked like that. It was incredible. I collected myself and made my way over to the bench with a stupid grin on my face. My teammates were doubled over in laughter.
There’s something life-affirming about going somewhere with the intent of getting completely destroyed. In 2023, I saw Pool Kids open up for Joyce Manor and PUP at the Regency in SF. In the pit during the PUP set, a much more violent pit than I am accustomed to, someone hit me so hard just as someone else stepped on my foot that one of my high-top Chucks did go flying off. I got it back and slipped it back on between songs.
Sella - “Perfect Worth It”
I’m seriously considering buying a trumpet.
Power Snatch - “ASSIGNMENT”
As whatever this is that I’m doing right now is evidence of, I am a big fan of passion projects that no one asked for. After last year’s solo album, Hayley Williams can do whatever she wants. Actually, that was probably already the case before, but last year’s solo album is irrefutable proof that Hayley Williams should do whatever she wants. She can do a lot with a little.
Have Mercy - "I Can't Buy You Flowers"
Last year everyone made a big deal about the other band out of Baltimore. They’re not for me. I won’t talk badly about them, because I don’t do that and I have no reason to —but mostly because of the unimpeachable respect that I have for Tim Robinson. But Have Mercy is my Baltimore band. The three singles they put out last spring were incendiary.
Animal Flag - “St. Cecilia’s”
Weather-wise, it’s been a tough last six weeks. We got sixteen inches of snow dumped on us in mid-January and the temperature didn’t climb above freezing until after Valentine’s Day. The mountains of plowed snow in the parking lots only finally melted last week. But it’s consistently hitting 60 degrees, flirting with 70, and raining every day, so it’s officially spring in Pittsburgh. And after a long cold winter, you’ve just gotta grab the umbrella and get out there and learn to love the rain.
Modern Chemistry - “Tripping over YOu”
I thought this track came out this year. It didn’t. It came out nine years ago. But it’s new to me. And it’s already on the CD. Plus, bands from New Jersey are capable of being timeless in strange ways for reasons that no one can quite put their finger on.
Mitski - “Where’s My Phone?”
Sometimes I’ll be completely zoned out listening to music, running along the river, mindlessly playing a golf video game, washing the dishes, and a Mitski song will come on and there will be a line that snaps me out of my stupor and for a second I’ll think, “Wait, is this Jenny Lewis?” And I don’t know if I can think of a higher compliment than that.
Somewhere around ten years ago, Mitski was playing a free show in the park in San Francisco and I tried to rally people to go but ended up going by myself. I just checked Spotify and she is now getting 23 million listens a month. Last week she kicked off a new international tour that started with six straight sold-out shows at The Shed in NYC. Six.
Friko - “Seven Degrees”
This is probably the band that I know the least about, but I stumbled across it, and I like songs that count and it’s got an acoustic The Kinks thing going on.
Tigers Jaw - “Primary Colors”
By my completely made-up estimates, I have eaten thirty-seven slices of pizza over the last eighteen years that have been primarily inspired by how good the pizza looks on the cover of Tigers Jaw’s self-titled debut album. The defining principle of seventh-wave emo will be pictures of delicious pizza.
The Linda Lindas - “California Sun”
If Friko has the acoustic sound of The Kinks, then The Linda Lindas have the convenient electric punk sound of The Kinks.
Everyone can and should make music. Teenagers are the only ones who should unabashedly make and share music.
Hilary Duff - “Growing Up”
It’s slightly disorienting to casually glance down the credits of former Disney teen idol Hilary Duff’s 2026 album, her first in eleven years, and see the name of original blink-182 drummer Scott Raynor. Sure, Mark and Tom are there as well —all getting writing credits for Duff’s take on their 1997 single “Dammit”— but at this point, in their roles as elder statesmen of pop punk, Mark and Tom are everywhere and on everything. So much so that Hot Mulligan has a track, which Mark Hoppus is not on, entitled “Featuring Mark Hoppus.”
You would be right to question an homage to the beloved pre-fame blink-182 track coming from a nearly forty-year-old Lizzie McGuire who was nine years old when Dude Ranch was released. But to my surprise and her immense credit, it just works. I don’t want to hear Hilary Duff, or really anyone cover “Dammit.” But an interpolation that turns the teenage power chord heartbreak ballet into a modern-day ode to long-lasting adult friendship, my dear friends, that is growing up.
Joyce Manor - “I Used To Go To This Bar”
We used to go to this bar on the waterfront in SF called HiDive. It wasn’t any good, but it was a short walk from our office and the beers were cheap. Which was important to me when I was new to the city and accustomed to $2 Yuenglings. Google Images is trying to make me believe that HiDive is not carpeted. I refuse to believe that. Maybe they pulled it up at some point. Or maybe the beer-soaked, threadbare carpet just completely disintegrated over time.
We’d go after work. Then it started to be that every time we were there it was for someone’s going away drinks, as one by one we left that company. And then I had my own going away drinks there. I’ve been to other bars more. I’ve been to much, much better bars. But for some dumb reason, no bar has meant more to me than that bar.
ROSALÍA - “Magnolias”
I needed to make space on my phone a few months ago, so I was scrolling through old pictures, videos, and screenshots, and deleting what I could. And I stumbled upon a picture of Andy Samberg and Joanna Newsom. I don’t know exactly why I downloaded it. But it makes sense: they are, by far, my favorite celebrity couple. I don’t know anything about them, besides that they’re married and have some number of kids. One? Four? I don’t know. But I love it. The goofy guy from Laser Cats and the singer-harpist who gave the world “Peach, Plum, Pear” are somewhere tonight reheating takeout leftovers and wrangling some number of kids, and that makes me happy.
Because I’m uncool, I just learned about ROSALÍA from Andy Samberg on a podcast.
I think it’s a good practice to end a mix CD or really any playlist with a song that is the final track on its album. Good last tracks have their own energy. You probably don’t want to end it with some track four single. It might be a great track, but then it just ends and it’s over. Listening to a perfect last track makes you feel like you’ve gotten somewhere.