Have you ever heard the phrase, “soundtrack of my life”? Someone usually says it when they hear a song they sang in the car with parents, or the first one they made out to, or the one that reminds them of a late friend. Last year, after hearing that phrase a lot, I began to wonder: what would it look like if you actually tried to keep track of your “soundtrack”? How many songs would there be? How would you keep track of them all? What qualifications does a song need to be added to the soundtrack? In the future I may write something to delve deeper into the concept itself, but for now I’ll start by going over what I found in my first year of doing this exercise. After starting to make monthly playlists out of my favorite/most memorable songs of the time in late 2023, this past year was my first full one in which I actively kept track. The purpose of this article is to highlight a few songs (I chose 12 so I use “approximately 1/month” as a guideline) that I would truly consider to forever be part of the soundtrack of my life, explore/explain why that’s the case, and reflect on my last 12 months. Again, the playlists I made themselves (found here) usually end up 30-40 songs long, but in the interest of putting this out there reasonably close to the end of the year, I chose what I thought were the most worthy of attention.

Be warned: if you’re looking for a critical analysis of the music, you won’t find it here. What you will find is a more casual assessment of songs I love and the reasoning behind why I love them. So yes, this entire thing is pretty much all about me. Self-indulgent? Perhaps. But the only thing one can write about better than anyone else is themselves, so I thought it would be a good place to start whilst honing my writing ability. And if you read this and find the concept interesting, it’s never too late to make a playlist and get started! Furthermore, I’ve gotten a lot of value out of writing and reflecting about them like this and would encourage anyone participating to do the same. If you’ve ever kept a diary or journal, it feels kind of like doing that; music is almost always linked to your mood, emotional state and how you process the world around you, so talking about these songs without talking through or even thinking about your feelings is almost impossible. Also, it’s the only medium with which you can feasibly do this sort of thing because it’s shorter-form and far more easily accessible compared to books, movies and TV shows. The soundtrack of your life can only truly exist once you assemble a track listing, so please, always keep your ears and hearts open.

“When Will I Be Alright”, Ed Sheeran

Upon release, not much commercial attention was paid to Ed Sheeran’s 2023 album Autumn Variations; exactly how the British singer-songwriter had planned. It was his first departure from his two series of albums, the mainline “Mathematics” project and two “Collaborations Project” albums, in over a decade, and he fully embraced that he, arguably the biggest pop hitmaker of the 2010s, was putting something out that had no radio appeal and no chart-topping aspirations. It’s a group of songs made with The National’s Aaron Dessner designed to embody the motions and emotions of autumn and are written about his friends. Sheeran explained in interviews prior to release that he got the idea from 19th century composer Edward Elgar’s Enigma Variations: a collection of 14 orchestral variations, with each one representing an acquaintance of his. Though the hardcore “Sheerio” community might find this take a bit too hot, it’s my favorite Ed Sheeran album. His objective best in terms of overall quality? Maybe not. But when a piece of music strikes you at just the right time, as this album and song did for me, it doesn’t matter how “good” it is. At the right moment, in just the right frame of mind, it can be the best thing you’ve ever heard.

The “life is a rollercoaster” metaphor has been tread and retread countless times, probably since the invention of the rollercoaster. But that’s because it works so well; the twists, turns, ups, downs, moving slow, moving fast, your head spinning most of the time. For me, at least on the inside, the winter of 2023-24 felt like a precipitous drop during my rollercoaster ride, with seasonal affective disorder (SAD) being the primary culprit. For the unfamiliar, SAD is a form of depression that rears its ugly head at certain times of the year, most commonly fall and winter. This winter-pattern SAD is typically connected to the shortening of daylight hours and can lead to a wide range of symptoms associated with anxiety and depression (for a more in-depth understanding, read this article form the National Institute of Mental Health or seek out other “.org” and “.gov” resources). I’d noticed an uptick in the symptoms of SAD every winter for the last few years, but this time around it was particularly intense: feeling down almost every day, overeating, and feeling worthless and hopeless. These thoughts, feelings and changes in behavior can be difficult to grapple with on your own, so having something or someone that helps you express or understand them can be a comforting and sometimes healing experience. This is where “When Will I Be Alright” comes in.

On those days when you can’t see the light or can’t escape those deep, dark thoughts, or are just feeling blue, having a consistent source of comfort can be incredibly valuable. For some it might be a movie or TV show that they’ve seen a million times, or a place they can go like a gym or park that always clears the mind, or a person that they can always call to bend their ear with whatever is troubling them. And for others, that lifesaver is music. For me in this time of need, it was Autumn Variations. The whole album is chock full of songs that will warm your heart (“Magical”, “American Town”) and others that will shatter it (“The Day I Was Born”, “Page”). But “When Will I Be Alright” is my ultimate standout. Musically, it’s about as easy to listen to as a bluesy acoustic folk song can get, a somber melody with only a pair of guitars strumming in harmony, a sparse piano and a string section carrying the chorus and bridge. Sheeran’s falsetto emphasizes the heartbreak. In the live acoustic version, as Sheeran sings and plays guitar whilst walking a forest path (and wearing a cozy sweater, in case you needed any more help connecting with the autumn vibes), his voice cracks and breaks multiple times, bringing an extra dose of pain to the performance. Lyrically, Sheeran’s narrator laments the direction his life has gone in, describing several symptoms of depression and expressing suicidal thoughts. In the last verse he mentions what may be the source of his all-consuming sorrow:

“I tried my best to stop her leaving,

 I wonder about the arms she’s in”

At the time, the end of a relationship was not the cause of any of what I was going through, but the fear of it still allowed this to resonate with me. More broadly though, this was there for me in a way that nothing and nobody really was or could be. Of course, the best thing to do when experiencing depression or suicidal thoughts is to talk to someone you trust and get help as soon as possible because no song, movie or happy place will help you on it’s own. But when my own thoughts had turned against me and I felt like I was losing a battle against myself, wondering when and how this all will end, it was comforting to hear someone else sharing that rock bottom with me.

“Modern Girl”, Bleachers

Never underestimate the value of the radio. If you’ll allow me to put on my old man hat for a moment, it’s so easy nowadays to build yourself a musical echo chamber of playlists with similar rotations of your favorite genres and artists. And in doing so you rarely feel the need to be exposed to something new; why listen to something when there’s a chance you won’t be in love with it? This year, this song is exhibit A in my case for turning up the radio dial rather than scrolling through your well-worn playlist. 

Allow me to analogize. Imagine moving to a big city you’ve never been to before. Its atmosphere, architecture and people are new experiences for you, but there’s also enough McDonald’s, Starbucks and other universal names around to make it less of an alien landscape. As you explore this unfamiliar place via taxi, you see, hear and smell a wealth of new things; some of them appeal to you, some don’t. Suddenly, out of what feels like nowhere, you spot a café. You’ve never heard its name before, but it looks popular. Not so popular that it’s going to take over the world like the next KFC, but more than busy enough to keep the lights on. You have somewhere to be so you don’t stop the car, but as you continue on your way, you can’t stop thinking about it. The next morning, now on your own time, you know exactly what you want to do first: find that café. Something about its charm has hooked you, even though you were simply a passerby. Turns out it’s not too far from the comfort of your home so, one short walk later, you find yourself inside. You are greeted by the friendly staff, find an order that is certain to become your usual, cozy place to sit at a booth in the corner and, just like that, you’re hooked. You now go there day after day, you bring any friend along that will join you just so you can see their reaction to this magical place. This is a place you will never get tired of no matter how many times you go. This was my experience with the song “Modern Girl” by Bleachers.

I discovered this song and this band because I heard it on the radio. Specifically, SiriusXM’s LIFE with John Mayer, which first hit the digital airwaves in November of 2023 and has been a regular pipeline of mine for discovering new stuff. I first heard this song at the very end of January of this year and hung around in the back of my head until I finally went to it with intention a few days later. It immediately went on repeat and, according to my Spotify Wrapped, was my second most-listened to song this year. But Mayer’s radio station earned enough good will based solely on this song to be a go-to when I need to shake things up with new tunes. 

The count-in, the strained guitar strum, the saxophone riff that hits like lights of Times Square coming to life all at once; how could you not want to start dancing from just the first few seconds? More than that, how could you not want to get dressed in your swankiest fit, gather your friends, hit the city and stay out all night running on nothing but alcohol, adrenaline and fun? Unlike many of the other songs on this list, you don’t need to “get” the lyrics – or pay much of any attention to them at all – to get the most out of the song, though they are quite fun too. What really matters is how the music makes you feel. What I get out of the music is a desire to run with unbridled jubilance until my heart explodes, a difficult motivation to find in someone that likes the idea of exercise more than the real thing. Antonoff does great work with the likes of Taylor Swift, Lana Del Ray and Sabrina Carpenter, but this song, for me, deserves to be in the conversation of his best production effort, let alone his strong vocals and ability as a frontman. Since finding this song I’ve gone farther into the Bleachers musical universe, including listening to the 2024 self-titled album it features on, and continue to enjoy them. But I’ve heard and thought about “Modern Girl” so much since it became the song of my February that I can’t imagine it not being a part of my everyday life. So it’s even more wild to think I found it by chance thanks to the right station at the right time, on the radio.

Songs that become foundational pieces of your life, your soul and your taste in music don’t just fall into your lap. Like your favorite café, bookstore or gym, you discovered all of your favorites somehow or some way. Maybe a friend or partner played it for you. Maybe it was a new release from your most beloved artist. Maybe it came on the radio of your parent’s car and got stuck in your head. If you allow it, listening to music can be a real adventure, you just have to leave your house once in a while. You may not find your newest obsession right away, but you’ll certainly never find it in what you’ve held close for as long as you can remember.

“Bobby Jean”, Bruce Springsteen

Separation is hard. There’s no two ways about it. Being far away from people you care about, whether it be family, friends or a lover, and having a difficult time finding opportunities to spend quality time with them is a universal experience, but that doesn’t make it easier to cope with. I’ve been dealing with long-distance friendships for several years now. My two best friends each live two hours away, one to the south and one to the west. That may not seem like a big deal on paper, but with everyone being busy with their own lives and schedules, finding the time and energy to make that drive is rare. On top of this, several other friends I’ve had since high school have moved to places all over the United States, from California to Colorado to Florida and more. It took me until this year to understand the importance of maintaining these relationships despite the long distance between us, but the fear of drifting apart is and always will be very real for me. And sometimes, like the story in “Bobby Jean”, it doesn’t matter how hard you try; if people need to spread their wings and fly, they’ll do it.

For I dig into the song itself, a quick note for the uninformed: Bruce Springsteen is my idol. His music means everything to me and I don’t know who I’d be without it. I grew up in a single-parent household with a superhero of a mom. But when it came to finding a male role model, someone I could look to for an understanding of what to do and what not to do, I found myself gravitating to Bruce; he just makes sense to me. After years of being a die-hard fan I finally got to see him perform live in March of 2023 and it was the single greatest moment of my life. I never felt so connected to a large group of people before, an arena full of people like me who see Springsteen as our ultimate source of entertainment, information, and inspiration. So, as I discuss why this song is important to me, know that in reality I can’t put into words how much it or any Springsteen song means to me. I’m just going to do my best.

This year was the 40th anniversary of Bruce Springsteen’s landmark album Born in the U.S.A., released on June 4th, 1984. Though he was already a well-respected musician and live act with some decent success in the first decade of his career, this album changed the trajectory of his career and influenced rock and pop forever. Instead of accidentally writing a book report on the album, I’ll direct you to Steven Hyden’s book There Was Nothing You Could Do: Bruce Springsteen’s “Born In The U.S.A.” and the End of the Heartland for way better information and analysis than I could ever provide. Needless to say, this book, the anniversary, and the fact that it’s one of the best albums of all time had me coming back to BITUSA and its brilliant 1982 sister album Nebraska a lot this year. To the chagrin of many of the more academic Springteen fans, my favorite song on the album is “Dancing in the Dark”. But outside of that, every new listen through it gives me a different song to appreciate on a deeper level (again). And many times this year, that song was “Bobby Jean”. 

More than half of the songs on the album become top 10 hits on the charts, but this one didn’t; though not released as a single, it’s been a favorite for decades. Assumed to be written as a metaphorical goodbye to Sprinngteen’s best friend and bandmate Steven Van Zandt who left the E Street Band during the late stages of making BITUSA, its narrator describes a close childhood friend suddenly leaving town without a word and how, despite the pain of perhaps never seeing them again, he wishes them nothing but the best. As recounts their similarities, their bond and their shared pain, he struggles to grapple with the fact that Bobby Jean’s goodbye came and went without a hint of closure. No phone call, no knock on the door, just a sudden and irreplaceable loss. Bobby Jean’s mother in the first verse says there was nothing anyone could do to stop them from leaving, but that doesn’t make it any easier. By the end of the song, the narrator is inching closer to acceptance but is still haunted by the lack of clean break. His final line of the song, revealed to be a Hail Mary attempt at communicating with Bobby Jean, coupled with Clarence Clemons’ wailing solo, breaks my heart every single time: 

“And I’m just calling one last time,

Not to change your mind,

But just to say I miss you, baby,

Good luck, goodbye”

The most magical thing about the songbook of Bruce Springsteen is that every song has the ability to serve a purpose. They are tools and the right one will be there for you in every possible situation, good or bad. For me, the purpose of “Bobby Jean” is to help me accept separation as a natural part of life. It doesn’t have to be because one party did something wrong, and it doesn’t have to mean forever. But it does mean that wishing people well on their journey is always the healthiest move, and memories mean a whole lot more once you realize they’re all you’re going to have left someday.

“ALLIIGATOR TEARS”, Beyoncé

More often than I’d like to admit, I can be a “prisoner of the moment” music listener. When something is hyped to a maximum degree, as Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter project rightfully was in March of 2024, I make it my entire personality for the few days around its release despite hardly ever listening to Queen Bey’s music before. Nothing against her of course, I just don’t venture out of my 20th-century pop-rock bubble all that often. But in the few months before the album’s release I discovered a new level of tolerance, and maybe even appreciation, for country music (more on that later). And since I’ve heard nothing great things about Beyoncé for as long as I can remember, and her entire “reclamation album trilogy” endeavor (beginning with 2022’s Renaissance) sounded more than intriguing, the last few mental barriers holding me from diving into the Beyoncé-verse fell away. I was there at midnight on March 29th, headphones on and drink in hand, unsure of what to expect besides the two stellar lead singles, “TEXAS HOLD’EM” and “16 CARRIAGES”. The whole album works as part incredible entertainment, part history lesson, part work of art, and I’ve enjoyed going back to it many times. But one song, a song I never hear anyone talk about amongst the album’s best to my absolute shock, has been in heavy rotation for months.

The first on this list in a string of songs about being stuck in a relationship where the narrator does a lot more giving than taking, “ALLIIGATOR TEARS” is a twangy, mid-tempo number with a beat that gets me to bob my head as if it’s a Pavlovian response. There’s something in its warm, airy guitar, its methodical, marching beat and its heavenly vocals that take my mind to driving alone on a southern highway at sunrise that I find simply intoxicating, In the song, Beyoncé’s narrator can’t help but change everything about her life to appease her partner, despite being fully aware of the manipulative grip they have on her. She’s “in too deep” and “runnin’ on fear”, but the thought of hurting this person even a little bit keeps her trapped. She’s convinced herself “sweet things need time to grow” as an excuse to stay, committing to someone on a gamble that they’ll change. There will be more on this subject while discussing the next song, but I can’t move on without highlighting the line that serves as the crux of the song’s central theme: “How does it feel to be adored?” I’ve been in relationships that cause me to ask this exact thing under my breath as I write papers for classes I’m not in, give gifts knowing I won’t get one back, and talk someone off of a ledge when I know they wouldn’t do the same for me. Note to my future self and anyone currently having every ounce of love squeezed from their body: if the feelings aren’t equal, you’re in the wrong place.

“THE GREATEST”, Billie Eilish

Finally, I will now answer the question that I know you, dear reader, have been racking your brain trying to figure out since all the way back in the second song on this list: “If Modern Girl was my second most-listened to song this year on his Spotify Wrapped, then what came in first?” That would be “THE GREATEST” by Billie Eilish from her fantastic 2024 album HIT ME HARD AND SOFT.

While the pop culture world has been obsessed with other greats on the album like “BIRDS OF A FEATHER” and “WILDFLOWER”, I continue to be drawn in to the song that Billie herself called “the heart of the album” in an Apple Music interview last year. This makes sense, as the melody of “THE GREATEST” appears multiple times throughout HMHAS. It starts as a ballad centered on a plucking acoustic guitar and Eilish’s trademark haunting voice, lamenting over the work she’s done to get someone to love her that refuses to reciprocate, and how lonely it feels to be the only one trying. Halfway through, the song explodes into soaring, atmospheric, cathartic rock as the narrator’s anger with herself and the other person reaches a breaking point. If the narrator of “ALLIIGATOR TEARS” is comfortable in their misery, the opposite is true of the one in “THE GREATEST”. Their love and patience has gone unappreciated for too long and, in a moment of self-righteous rage, they snap. As the song calms and reaches its outro, the narrator expresses their frustration for themselves for how good they were at letting themselves be used.

According to Spotify, I listened to this song 237 times in 2024, and it was only released in May. The hypnotic grip it had on me can only be described by saying that I’ve never been able to picture myself in the shoes of a narrator so vividly before. Billie and her brother/producer/co-writer Finneas (more on him later) developed a character with depth fit for a novel and told their whole story in one beautiful song. They are good-natured but flawed, naive but clearly a willing participant in their suffering. Speaking from experience, when you’re in this character’s situation, much of your life feels like the dark and cold room of a ballad that takes up the majority of the song. Consumed by desire for this one person, you lock yourself into a somber malaise and are fixated on doing whatever this person wants from you or whatever you think will make them happy. Then, sometimes, you break. This manifests in a number of ways: breaking down alone in your room, snapping at the other person and blowing up the relationship you’ve tried to keep alive, choosing to disappear for a bit while you try to get back the time you’ve lost to them. But no matter what, it always sounds and feels like the musical outburst in the middle of “THE GREATEST”.

One of the superpowers of great songwriters is the ability to hold a mirror to their audiences and put their innermost thoughts and feelings into beats, melodies and words for them. Billie and Finneas do this so incredibly well, and I think their vast legion of fans looking for a way to understand their heartbreak, sadness, and anger would agree.

“Only the Strong Survive”, Elvis Presley

This is the first of two songs on the list that fall into a difficult-to-describe gray area. They are not tied to a specific memory nor a certain persisting emotion that properly summarizes my 2024. They are positive, uplifting songs about moving on that fly directly in the face of a year defined by how much of a hard time I had moving on. They came to me at a couple of my weaker mental moments, brought some temporary relief and became proverbial North Stars at which I could aim in my pursuit of a freer existence. I guess I’d call them “painkiller” songs. Whenever I’m feeling anything from a little bit blue to complete and total dread, I turn to these songs to remind me that life’s ups and downs don’t define you, it’s how you respond to them.

There are three versions of “Only the Strong Survive” that I love: the original by Jerry Butler (released in February of 1969) and covers by Elvis Presley (June 1969) and, the man who helped me discover it of course, Bruce Springsteen (2022). I’m partial to the Elvis version for a few reasons: its rich, clear, vintage 60s sound, Elvis’ use of his voice to play the role a down-on-his-luck young man trying to pick himself up off the ground with charm and passion, and the energy and pluckiness in the arrangement that matches how the song’s lyrics should make you feel. Elvis sells everything so well. Not only did he not write the words he’s singsing with such power, he’s at one of his several peaks in 1969, so it’s pretty hard to imagine him as heartbroken and in need of a pep talk from his mom to pull him out of a slump.

Speaking of the narrator’s mother, that’s another reason the song carries so much weight for me. I grew up in a 2-person household, just my mom and me. We’ve leaned on each other more times than we can count to get through all of the challenges life has thrown at us. And I know that if she saw me sitting out there all alone, crying my eyes out because the woman that I love is gone after my first love affair where the whole darn thing went wrong, she’d recite these lyrics verbatim; it’s her kind of tough love that always put a spring back in my step. There’s not much in this world that’s more healing than music, but words of encouragement from a parent or loved one might just top it. So when those two forces combine, it might just work wonders.

“Fat Bottomed Girls”, Queen

This song is here because it plays a major role in what I can say was unequivocally the single best day of my 2024. Did I travel the country with a rock band and have women of all shapes and sizes throwing themselves at me the whole tour? Did I strike up a relationship with my voluptuous former babysitter? Did I buy a motorcycle? No, none of that is even close. But the beautiful thing about songs is that they can just be songs, and you can love them with your whole heart without being able to relate a single lyric. Therefore, I won’t dive as deeply into the song itself here as I do for others on the list; all you need to know is it’s a fun, raunchy, straightforward jam that’s easily up there with Queen’s greatest songs. So what happened that took this banger from just any old great classic rock song to something tied to memories I’ll take with me for the rest of my life? Let me tell you about my Friday, July 19th, 2024.

For those that don’t know, I’ve been an unofficial intern/assistant at Twin Cities sports talk radio station KFAN for a little over two years now. I go in three days a week during the Power Trip Morning Show to load audio like press conference sound bites into the station’s system to be used on air, run errands and generally be of help any way I can. My job may be small, but I take great pride in it and will be forever grateful to Chris Hawkey, who was the one to first invite me to visit the station and has been a great mentor since, and everyone else on the show and in the building that has been welcoming and allowed me to stick around. My normal work week is Tuesday through Thursday, but Friday, July 19th was a special that there was no way I was going to miss. Minnesota Vikings Head Coach Kevin O’Connell was doing a small circuit of the major morning radio shows in the building that day, ending with a visit to KFAN for an interview and to play the show’s wildly popular Initials Game (which you can play at home with a set from initialsgame.com, glad that came up organically). There was no way I was passing up the chance to meet him so I happily came in the extra day. As you can imagine, he didn’t have much time to stick around and chat with everyone off the air, but I did get to shake his hand and I have a group picture that will stand as one of my favorites ever. It goes without saying that this is not the part of the day that involves “Fat Bottomed Girls”.

That evening also happened to be the night of KFAN Rube Party (rubes being the name affectionately given to the station’s listeners). At a brewery in Blaine, the biggest congregation of the year of listeners and on-air personalities was about to take place. There would be plenty of drinks, plenty of food, a stage where each of the four weekday shows would get their time in the spotlight for a segment specific to them, and a concert from The Chris Hawkey Band to cap it all off. If you know me even a little bit then you know that I am intensely introverted, but for the station and people that are currently my main source of purpose in this world, I was never going to miss it. Little did I know that the next several hours would hold some of the most fun I’ve ever had. I could write pages upon pages recounting every detail, but in the interest of keeping each segment of this article at least somewhat even in length, but what’s most important is that the moment I was welcomed to the other side of the yellow tape to hang with my radio friends and acquaintances as more than just a listener was very fulfilling moment. The entire evening was a good time, but the party didn’t truly begin until Hawk and his band hit the stage. Though he’s a great songwriter, Hawk chose to mostly forgo his originals and play to the riled up crowd, slamming through rocker after rocker. Throughout the set he invited various other hosts and personalities on stage to join in on stone cold classics, from “All the Small Things” and “The Middle” to “Home Sweet Home” and “Highway to Hell”. As I stood in the wings watching, laughing and drinking cheap whiskey, I couldn’t believe I was really there.

Finally, we reached the last song of the night: that familiar stomping drumbeat, that groove-rich guitar, the soaring harmony. And, in a surprising twist, Hawk invited all of the KFAN-affiliated persons that remained, including little old me, on stage to have their moment with “Fat Bottomed Girls”. Even if it was just a couple hundred people, I haven’t stood in front of a crowd that large since my high school graduation, and haven’t performed in front of one since I was a kid in an elementary school play. But I had no fear; not just because of the whiskey, but because I was up there with my people that I considered in the moment to be my brothers and sisters, grateful to play even a small part in making all of these people happy on a daily basis and soaking in pure, unbridled happiness. I don’t know where my career in radio will take me, if I even have one, but that will always be a highlight of it. And to Chris, Maxx, Cory, Paul, Zach, Brett, Haley, Carly, Mark, Ben, Marney, Parker and everyone else who is a part of this great radio station, I’m never going to be able to say thank you enough. You’ve given someone who’s always struggled to fit in, to feel a sense of self-worth, to believe he has potential, something to believe in. Your kindness will never be forgotten.

“Burn, Burn, Burn”, Zach Bryan

It’s a common, shared experience to grow out of things that you loved as a kid. And not just physically like your clothing or your twin size bed, just leaving the things you loved in the past as your personality, interests and surroundings change. It’s common to grow out of what you think you want to do for a career, like me wanting to be a veterinarian; when I realized math and science weren’t my strong subjects and that I hated seeing animals sad or in pain, I needed to pivot. I grew out of how I spent my time and money, trading my feverish desire for LEGO and Pokémon cards for video games and vinyl records. And when I was a kid, I loved country music. I don’t know exactly why, my mom is a classic rock diehard who barely listened to country outside of a select few artists, so I don’t think it was entirely handed down to me. When I got a drum set and kid’s electric guitar for Christmas the first thing I wanted to do was start a country band with the neighbor kids. We played a lot of Kenny Chesney songs, and we were terrible at all of them. Chesney was also my first concert, and mainly due to the giant crowd, loud noises and new environment, I hated it. Somewhere along the line though, I grew out of loving country music, and grew into hating it for a long time. I listened to top 40 radio, started coming around on my mom’s hair metal, and built my own collection of favorites in a range of genres that absolutely DID NOT include country. And that’s how I operated as a music listener until as recently as the very end of 2023. Why? Because of a girl, of course. And because this girl showed me Zach Bryan.

For the uniformed, Zach Bryan is a singer-songwriter, born a military kid in Japan but raised in Tulsa, Oklahoma. He joined the Navy out of school while simultaneously building a social media following playing guitar and singing his songs. He only put out his first album, DeAnn, in 2019, but has since become one of the faces of country music, despite resisting the idea that he fits into any one genre. Zach was this girl’s favorite artist, so if I wanted to bond with her, it was in my best interest to bond with his songs, too. Thankfully that wasn’t too hard because I got hooked almost immediately. I couldn’t explain it at the time but something about his detailed, poetic songwriting put an inescapable grip on the most sensitive parts of my heart. He could describe everything from the horizon of his hometown to the beautiful flaws of the human condition with a unique level of intricacy and flavor that I couldn’t, and still can’t, get enough of. If you’re skeptical that this is a hyperbolic description, look no further than his 2022 single “Burn, Burn, Burn”; it’s his thesis statement on his personality, his dreams and how life should be lived to the fullest knowing it’ll all be over for everybody someday, all wrapped in an articulate mosaic of a poem, perfect for a campfire in the middle of nowhere.

The story of what happened with the girl can’t be told under the roof of just one song, but as for Zach, his music has become an integral part of my musical experience (I like to think I stole him from her). This spring, I finally figured out the root of what about him hooked me in so easily: you guessed it, Bruce Springsteen. How did I not see it sooner?! He’s a symbol of the troubled working man that initially connected with audiences using raw, live performance and backed that up with incredible material, who lives and dies for playing with his band and making sense of the world around him through song, just like the Boss. Springsteen joined Bryan on stage at Madison Square Garden in March, and in the summer collaborated on the song “Sandpaper” seemingly a take on the former’s 1984 hit “I’m On Fire”, for the latter’s latest album, The Great American Bar Scene. 

In June I bought tickets to see Zach Bryan live in Minneapolis just a short time later in August, hoping mainly to use them as a way to patch things up with the person I most wanted to see him with. When that failed, I wasn’t surprised but certainly not disappointed. My usually very anti-country music friend bit the bullet and joined me instead, and we had a great time as two suburban kids playing cowboys for a night. Zach and his band put on a hell of a show; he thanked the crowd after every song, changed lyrics to include “Minnesota” whenever possible and, just like his hero, performed like it was the only thing giving him life. I’m usually against taking videos at concerts; I’ll grab a minute-long snippet of some of my favorite songs just to capture the memory forever, but I feel like living in the moment is the more rewarding way to go about it. However, I felt it in my bones that I needed to get every second of “Burn, Burn, Burn”. It was a song I didn’t know existed one year prior from a musician I’ve never heard of before feeling obligated to listen to him. But to capture that song live is to capture magic being remade, as it is show after show. I think back on that night with the fondest of memories, and childhood me is very proud that I went back to my country roots. The personal baggage I have attached to listening to Zach Bryan and his songs, and who I think about when I hear them, is no longer a burden. It’s a part of life’s grand journey that makes them that much more meaningful. And if the girl from this story reads this one day, thank you for everything. Wherever life takes you, I hope you feel it all: joy, pain and sky.

“I’m Gonna Find Another You”, John Mayer

In the same vein as Elvis’ “Only the Strong Survive”, John Mayer’s “I’m Gonna Find Another You”, the closing track of his 2006 magnum opus Continuum is a painkiller of a song: a home base for me to return to when I needed to be reminded that life keeps moving and things do get better as long you keep searching for where you’re welcome, rather than resigning to the pain that others inflict on you.

There’s a meme I love that also poses as a pretty great music discussion topic, typically involving one or two pictures of someone making facial expressions of curiosity, shock and joy, with a caption that reads something like “when you realize the song you always skip is actually straight fire”, and whenever I’ve seen it for about the last six months, I’ve thought of this song. I first listened to Continuum in college a few years ago on a morning bus ride to campus and really enjoyed it. It certainly put John Mayer on the map for me and I’ve been listening to his music more and more since. However, as I normally do, I clung to my few favorite songs and added them to my playlists while mostly discarding the rest. As a result, I knew “Stop This Train”, “Gravity” and “Slow Dancing in a Burning Room” fairly well but lost track of all the rest. Then, on a quiet summer evening, I decided to revisit it and found it to be full of songs fit for the aforementioned meme. I’d forgotten Mayer’s abilities as a virtuoso guitar player, his varied use of instruments (like an impeccable horn section), and vulnerable songwriting style that I think I really needed to hear at the time as a quintessential breakup/healing album. And the song that wraps all of these qualities into one and is now my favorite John Mayer piece is “I’m Gonna Find Another You”.

Lyrically, it’s one of the greatest tell-off’s I’ve ever heard:

“You might have your reasons but you will never have my rhyme…”

“If I’m forced to find another, I hope she looks like you, yeah and she’s nicer too…”

“My pride will keep me company and you just gave yours all away…”

His willingness to be honest (if a little harsh) and the bluntness which he employs in doing so struck a chord with me as those are two things I’ve never really been able to be myself. But, I think daydreaming about telling someone how you really feel only to back down when faced with the opportunity to do so is a common human experience, and John feeds the fantasy magnificently with this song. Rediscovering it was most certainly a turning point for me in approaching recovery from heartbreak, something that the rest of the songs on the list from here will reflect.

“For Cryin’ Out Loud!”, FINNEAS

Who is the last artist you discovered and, in doing so, let them fully take over your life for a while? It’s like finding a gold mine; diving into an established body of work that you’d never heard before and feeling like there are basically no misses, and as you dig all of it connects with you in some way and each artistic decision was the right one. In my 2024, that artist was FINNEAS. I, like much of the world that is invested in pop culture, know who FINNEAS is without hearing his solo work as Finneas O’Connell; an Oscar- and GRAMMY-winning producer and songwriter best known for with work with his sister, pop megastar Billie Eilish, on all of her album and single releases. He’s also worked with artists like Selena Gomez, Camila Cabello and Lizzy McAlpine among others, as well as acting and producing the musical score for multiple movies and TV shows. So why isn’t someone with this resume a giant mainstream musician in his own right? I can’t give a good answer to that, and my now biased perspective is that I really don’t know because I think his graceful, funny and intense songwriting and masterful production are deserving of much more recognition.

I discovered FINNEAS the solo artist in the early months of 2024 when one of his songs that has broken through for a bit of mainstream success, 2018’s “Break My Heart Again” popped up on an algorithm-generated Spotify playlist. It’s a beautiful downer of a song about, shockingly, a relationship where the narrator is giving a lot more than he’s taking, leading to unhealed paranoia, confusion and misguided commitment to someone that doesn’t feel the same way. I liked the song and added it to my saddest playlists, but didn’t think much else of it. Then, when he announced his upcoming second album about six months later and released the title track, “For Cryin’ Out Loud!” as a lead single, my interest was piqued.

Remember my description of “Break My Heart Again?” Well if you replace “beautiful downer” with “upbeat pop-rock banger” and leave the rest, then you’ve got “For Cryin’ Out Loud!” Aiming right for my innermost thoughts, the song exudes confidence yet also desperation, frustration yet also forgiveness. Wanting so badly for someone to treat you right that you allow yourself to be used as a proverbial punching bag in an attempt to make it happen is a disorienting and draining experience, and FINNEAS captures it really well here. And if the lyrics aren’t what you hone in on, his arrangement is also gripping; it’s got a little bit of everything from bubbliness to melodrama, which combine to make something super easy to listen and sing-along to.

In between the release of this song and the full album in October, I binged FINNEAS’ entire solo discography: 2019’s Blood Harmony EP, his 2021 debut album Optimist and a wide array of singles, and loved pretty much all of it (“Can’t Wait to Be Dead”, “Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa”, “Lotus Eater” and “Only a Lifetime” would be at the top of my recommendation list). Also, similar to Zach Bryan, I’m going to see him live in February of 2025, only about a year after finding out this art I now can’t get enough of even existed. There’s a lesson I learned many times over in 2024 through finding new music like FINNEAS’ and will now be carrying with me into every aspect of life: never be afraid to see how far whatever makes you happy can take you.

“Hypersonic Missiles”, Sam Fender

In case you didn’t hear, the United States had a Presidential election in 2024. A lot of people might think that saying that this election cycle occurred during the most divisive time in American history since the Civil War is complete hyperbole, but I somewhat disagree. Part of me wants to believe tensions between our two major political parties won’t come to blows, and I do believe it on a federal government scale, but on the ground an throughout the world wide web, there is such disgust and contempt for the “other side” that you can’t help but feel the need to keep on your toes, especially when civilian access to military-grade weaponry is one of the central debates. To quote a line from song by a Brit named Sam Fender released in 2019, a year that feels a lifetime ago, that sums up how I feel about my place in all of this as an ordinary observer of the chaos:

“The tensions of the world are rising higher,

We’re probably due another war with all this ire,

I’m not smart enough to change a thing,

I’ve no answers, only questions, don’t you ask a thing” 

A lot of the world’s political ails have been prevalent for years, so it’s no surprise that the issues Fender namedrops in this song, such as the bombing of Gaza, ruling elite classes, overconsumption,  a general depression about the state of humanity, still hover over society today. Still, it struck me how much this song felt like it mattered and made sense in November of 2024. I don’t know the first thing about how to fix this broken planet, and neither does Fender, but we both know something needs to be done before the dam breaks. This critical assessment is just one part of the story Fender is telling, though. The other plays right to my soul through the song’s attitude, music, and the rest of the lyrics. If you listen to the song even just once or twice, you probably know where I’m going with this.

The driving beat, the complex “wall of sound” instrumentation, the anthemic tone that pouches you in the face and force feeds you an unending desire to peel out of your small town and change the world; this is without a doubt his version of Bruce Springsteen’s 1975 classic “Born to Run”. The blatant political references are an original wrinkle to give the foundation the Boss built a more focused scope, but all of the other elements are there. The narrator is keenly aware of the world crumbling around him, so he sees no choice but to grab his girl and get the hell out; it’s an exhilarating feeling that both “Born to Run” and “Hypersonic Missiles” capture so well. I’ve always been a sucker for musicians of my generation paying homage to their heroes through song, and although I don’t know for certain that Fender is a Bruce fan, I can’t help but assume so after hearing this. This song and others like it taught me that when the world around you seems headed for disaster, faith in rock and roll’s greatest poets, no matter the generation, will help you trudge forward.

“Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right”, Bob Dylan

How often does TV shows or movies influence your music tastes and listening habits? It might be a musical’s soundtrack, your favorite character’s favorite tune, or a song played at just the right moment in a scene that makes you love it so much that you need to hear it on repeat and try to recapture that emotional high. The Replacements’ “Can’t Hardly Wait” in season 2 of FX’s The Bear, Ray Charles’ version of “Winter Wonderland” in When Harry Met Sally… and Walter Murphy’s disco instrumental “A Fifth of Beethoven”, not from Saturday Night Fever, but from the majestic alley-oop sequence in Will Ferrell’s criminally-underrated 2008 comedy Semi-Pro are just a few examples from my experience.

What’s less common is when another piece of media influences what you choose to listen to when you haven’t even seen or heard said piece of media. At the time of writing this, A Complete Unknown, The James Mangold-directed Bob Dylan biopic starring Timothée Chalamet, is one week away from worldwide release, but it’s taken up a lot of space in my mind since the first teaser dropped this past July. Dylan’s songbook has been a monkey on my back since high school, when one of my friends became obsessed with him. Knowing I was one of the few that shared his interest in music before our time, he did everything he could to convince me to listen to him; but I never budged. Even as I learned that basically all of my favorite musicians, most notably Bruce Springsteen, were greatly influenced by his music and hold him in the highest possible esteem, I just never felt the urge to dive into his, to put it mildly, expansive catalog. I liked “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” and “Like A Rolling Stone”, but I just wasn’t sure he was really for me. But this upcoming film piqued my interest, despite not knowing more than a handful of Dylan’s songs, so I decided now was the time to finally educate myself. On a brisk October morning I decided to bundle up, put my headphones on, and wander my neighborhood to 1963’s The Freewhweelin’ Bob Dylan because it was made during the time period that A Complete Unknown will be set in and “Blowin’ in the Wind” is on it. I could not have picked a better way to start my journey into Dylan if I tried.

I’m not going to try to talk about Dylan’s lyrics like I’m an expert; as I write this I’ve listened to three full albums and a small group of his greatest hits. But what I will say is that I think he is the bravest songwriter I have ever heard. This doesn’t just apply to songs of political protest like “Masters of War”; his manner of writing about interpersonal relationships comes imbued with just as much courage. The courage to be vulnerable, to tell the harsh truth, to not be a perfect person, to go your own way. The epitome of this courage in my opinion, is “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right”. Accompanied in true folk singer fashion by just his guitar and harmonica, Dylan declares his independence from a partner as he leaves her in the dead of night. His tone is far from aggressive, sounding rather matter-of-fact about his decision to end things, but his words are cutting and put the blame squarely on her:

“When your rooster crows at the break of dawn,

Look out your window and I’ll be gone,

You’re the reason I’m a-traveling on,

But don’t think twice, it’s all right”

If you’ve been studying the themes of several of the songs I’ve written about here even somewhat closely, it’s probably become apparent that I’ve spent much of this year undergoing similar treatment to what Dylan describes in “Don’t Think Twice”, though my relationship was platonic rather than romantic. When you care very deeply about someone, your vision can become clouded to their transgressions until one day, if you’re lucky enough, when the bubble bursts. You realize that nothing was given and taken equally, and putting all of your heart into it only ended up costing you your soul. I don’t know what specific straw broke the proverbial camel’s back for Dylan or his narrator in this song to make him finally choose to forge a new path for himself, but if it’s anything like mine, it came with the understanding that you actually weren’t always the bad guy, just someone who wanted what he was never going to have. 

Yet parts of the lyrics seem to suggest that Dylan is still conflicted about his decision to leave this woman, like how he wishes there was something she could do to get him to stay. But knowing that that gesture will never come makes it that much easier to move on. And it’s my belief that this internal conflict is where you find the true brilliance of the song. After chewing on the words and their meanings enough times, it finally hit me that he’s saying “don’t think twice, it’s all right” to himself as much as he is to her. He made it pretty clear that even “goodbye’s too good a word” for her, so part of him doesn’t really care if she’s okay with his leaving. What he really needs as he walks out the door is to hear himself in that calm, flat, objective, truth-soaked tone, say that he’s making the right choice.

This was the first full year I’ve kept detailed track of what songs mattered most to me at any given time, and hence the first time I’ve chosen a small group of those songs to write about. I tried my best to pick one song for every month so I could analyze them like evenly-separated plot points on some very complex graph and see how it would help me reflect on my 2024. I think the most visible indicators that showcase the beginning of my year versus my end are my first and last songs in this list which, and I swear this was not done for a convenient narrative, both contain “alright/all right” in their titles. Coming into this year, I was scared and unsure of when I was going to be okay, even when I didn’t really know or understand what was hurting me. Then, as time went on, it became clear that anxiety about our changing society, the impacts of physical distance between my closest friends and me, the pent up frustration of giving and not receiving in a relationship I once treasured, and the ensuing transformation as I begin finding new paths for myself. At this moment, still reflecting as I write, I’m still not quite done thinking twice, but I think that the answer to the question “When Will I Be Alright?” is now.