I mentioned in a previous post how much I despise picking a favorite of anything.

But this WeblogPoMo journey is forcing me to actually reflect on what it is I enjoy about music.

An interesting consequence is that once I am able to articulate what I like about music, I feel more comfortable in expressing my musical tastes.

So in the spirit of personal growth: I’m gonna go ahead and say that CHVRCHES is my overall favorite band of the past decade.

I own each of their four albums on vinyl, which is noteworthy considering my picky rules when it comes to vinyls.¹

Here’s what I love about each album:

The Bones Of What You Believe

The Bones Of What You Believe brings me right back to 2014, which was an exceptionally remarkable year for me.

I got married that year. Seems remarkable in and of itself that I was able to find someone to love me enough to wanna spend their life with me. It doubly rules that I love her right back.

I stood up in four other weddings that year. The summer was the last one where I saw my high school and college best friends with any sort of regularity.

I went full time with the company I started that year. We signed our first six figure deal and moved into an office. I couldn’t believe we were able to do that, and I can’t believe how proud I was of us for accomplishing that.

I suffered my first anxiety attack that year. My heart hurt so bad, I swore I was having a heart attack. Turned out it was only my fight or flight response kicking in.

I ran a marathon with my fiancée that year. I can’t believe I talked her into doing it. I did believe she could do it, though. She’s tough.

Throughout all of that, I can remember Bones blaring in the background.²

The single song that best represents CHVRCHES to me is the opening song on this album, “The Mother We Share.” I will likely never tire of this song, and someday, I will perform this song on an acoustic guitar at an open mic somewhere.

Every Open Eye

When Every Open Eye came out, I didn't like it as much as Bones. It sounds similar to Bones, but it does depart in a few ways which were hard to accept at first.

Over time, I've come to love many of the songs on the album, and "Clearest Blue" is untouchable when you hear it live.

I've seen CHVRCHES play live twice, and both experiences were incredible. I’ve heard the band described as "arena synth," complete with the kind of booming bass that reverberates deep in your soul.

Hearing the chorus of "Clearest Blue" along with pulsing strobe lights is an etheral experience.

Love Is Dead

Love Is Dead is my end-to-end favorite CHVRCHES album. It kicks off with the nostalgia-inducing "Graffiti" and ends with "Wonderland", a song about someone trapped in a cycle of anxiety and can't get out. The whole album goes hard and I’m frequently gleaning new insights when I pay attention to the lyrics.

“Graffiti” is the CHVRCHES song my kids know best. My daughter and son both sing this song loudly when it comes across shuffle, and my daughter added it to her playlist (which is about the highest honor a dad could achieve).

Screen Violence

Screen Violence, much like Every Open Eye was not my favorite when it was released. I listened to it for a few days on repeat, assuming I would grow to love it.

Sure enough, when I turn to CHVRCHES these days, I find myself drawn to songs like "California", "He Said She Said," and "Asking For A Friend."

This album will forever be tied in my memory to working on the wellness app I worked on during my time at BG. That period was one of significant transition and growth for me, and this album feels like a bit of a transition for the band as well.

Again, I’m very here for it.

If Rilo Kiley was the consistent soundtrack for me from age 16 to 26, I'd say CHVRCHES is the consistent soundtrack for 26 to 36.

Funny enough, Lauren Mayberry recently started a solo career. I hope she finds as much success as Jenny Lewis found when she went solo.³

When I inherited my sister’s 1991 Pontiac 6000 LE, it came with the custom CD deck that she installed after she inherited it from our grandma.

My vanity mirror-mounted CD sleeve contained the 5 or so burned CDs that I would rotate through, as was the style at the time.

Apocalypso was one of them.

This was the record I’d throw on when I needed to wake up before a party.

This was the record I’d throw on when I was making my way back from Edina after an exhausting truck unloading at Best Buy.

This album took me all over the metro area up until the day my car died and I needed a new one.

Related: I saw the Presets open for Cut Copy my sophomore year of college. Rob and I walked in flip flops from my house in the Como neighborhood all the way to the Fine Line in the warehouse district to see them.

That’s a 3 mile trek in one direction.

The show was incredible, but I will never forget how much pain I was in on the walk home.

I’ll also never forget how hard we were laughing about it.

A heads up: this post talks about mental health and suicidal thoughts again.

When you mention suicidal thoughts to your therapist, the first thing they do is work with you to write up a plan.

The plan is a series of steps you can take when you are unable to pull yourself out of a funk.

The steps start out small and accelerate all the way up to “go to the hospital.”

My first small step was to write down movies, TV shows, or songs that make me happy.

The movies and TV shows were easy, but I struggled to think of songs that made me happy.

As I’ve written a lot about this month, most music simply distracts me or serves as a sympathetic friend. It’s not often that songs put a smile on my face.

I started a new playlist in Apple Music called Anxiety Attack Mitigation¹. Over the following few weeks, I added songs that brought a legit smile to my face when I heard them.

Here are the songs on it as of today:

Black Box - Fall into My Love (Radio Edit)

One night, my daughter was eating at the table while I was doing dishes. We were arguing about something unimportant. She was “very mad” at me.

This song comes on shuffle and I begin dancing. I can’t help it with this song, it’s too damn groovy.

I turn around and look over at my daughter. She looks up from her plate with an angry scowl. She sees what I’m doing and her jaw drops like a cartoon character. She gets this look on her face that’s equal parts amused and shocked.

She quickly realizes that she’s supposed to be mad at me, so she quickly covers her mouth and looks away.

Whenever this song comes on, even if I’m “very mad” about something, I can’t help but crack a smile.

Coolio - The Winner

I mentioned this song in my Hit ‘em High writeup, so I’ll make this quick:

This is a song that I’ve heard all my life, but never actually listened to until very recently.

Seriously, read these lyrics.

I’ll admit that I didn’t expect this sort of message from the same guy as Gangsta’s Paradise, but I’m grateful for the wisdom of Coolio.

Des'ree - You Gotta Be

102.9 Lite FM was my second favorite radio station growing up².

I’d fall asleep to that station every night.

The song I most looked forward to hearing was this one.

Even as a fourth grader, this song made me feel good about myself.

As an adult, the song serves as a manifesto for how to keep moving through life.

Sum 41 - Fat Lip

I had this song on my Cybiko.

That’s a big deal because my Cybiko had a 16 megabyte card, which could store a whopping 16 minutes of low quality MP3s.

This song reminds me of middle school. Wanting to rebel but never feeling courageous enough to do it.

I’ve been lucky enough to see them perform it live twice this year³. I used to think pop punk music wasn’t something I was allowed to have as part of my identity, but the past few months have needed a soundtrack to help me make sense of my present situation.

Now, I’m no longer ashamed to admit that I love it.

12 year old Tim would’ve loved to see Sum 41 live. 36 year old Tim is grateful to have had that realization before it was too late.

And every time I hear this song, it reminds me that I need to put on my own oxygen mask before helping others.

Rêve - Still Dancing

I already covered this one.

Hoobastank - Crawling In The Dark

I’m embarrassed to admit I listen to a lot of these songs, and this one is probably the one I’m the most embarrassed about.

Maybe I’m reaching a point in my life where I want to care less about what other people think, and this post serves as exposure therapy.

But I can’t rock out enough to this song when I feel angsty. It helps me feel less alone.

Jimmy Eat World - The Middle

This was another song that was on my Cybiko.

Every time I hear it, I try to place myself into the perspective of either the singer or the girl.

As the singer, someone pops into my head that I feel could use a pat on their back, so I shoot them a text and see how they’re hanging in there.

As the girl, I allow myself to get the pat on the back.

Bluey - I Know a Place (The Creek Song)

The best children’s television show of the past few years is unquestionably Bluey.

The soundtrack to the show is part of the reason why.

Close your eyes when listening to this song and picture the scene being described.

It’s a sure fire way to ground yourself back in reality, to give you a chance to let go of the thing that is causing you so much stress, to make space for thoughts that matter.

Em Beihold - Numb Little Bug

I went out for karaoke a month or so ago and heard someone sing this song that I’d never heard before.

The lyrics match the way I feel when I’m especially down, and listening to her helps me feel less isolated.

Modest Mouse - Float On

Like the Coolio song above, here’s a song that’s been in regular rotation for years, but I hadn’t really listened to the lyrics.

This song is a reminder that life often works out just fine in the end.

Hoku - Perfect Day

You listen to this song and try to not get a dumb grin on your face.

Curtis Mayfield - Move On Up

Yet another song I’ve enjoyed for years without considering the lyrics all that much.

The uplifting lyrics and encouragement to persevere through struggle make this song perfect for this playlist.

It also often gives me perspective for my own struggles. I know there isn’t such a thing as “the suffering Olympics,” but come on, my struggles aren’t much compared to those of an African American in the 70s.

The Linda Lindas - Talking to Myself

I’m seeing Green Day this summer, and the Linda Lindas are one of the opening sets.

Their entire Growing Up album is very good, but this song made it on this playlist because, much like the Numb Little Big song, it often feels like we’re alone when we have depressive thoughts.

I’m super lucky to have friends I can call to talk about the things I think about that I can’t help.

Some of you may even be reading this post! I can’t believe people read this stuff, but again, I’m a very lucky guy. ❤️

Many a term paper was written to Untrust Us.

Many lines of code were generated to Vanished.

Many long walks from home to class were accompanied by Magic Spells.

The first Crystal Castles album is a prime example of how I've consumed music for the majority of my life.

The indiscernible lyrics, the rhythmic blips and bloops, and the strong repetition provide a great outlet to keep my spiraling thoughts distracted long enough for me to get something else done.

I think distraction is a perfectly reasonable purpose for music to serve.

Space Jam was my favorite movie growing up.

I didn’t own it on VHS, so it was one of those movies where I would watch it whenever an opportunity presented itself.

My oldest cousin got me the Space Jam poster for my birthday one year. It was one of the best birthday presents I ever got.

I took that poster with me into every place I moved. My dad had a thing where I wasn’t allowed to use nails or push pins to hang things on the walls (“Think of the resale value!”), so pretty much everything in my room was held up by that two-sided tacky tape which, ironically, left huge grease stains on the wall.

This soundtrack was the very first CD I ever purchased¹. I didn’t even own a CD player at the time I purchased it, so I had to wait until the house was empty so I could put it into the 5 disc changer we had in the living room.

At the time, I skipped the vast majority of songs on this album. Most of the songs on this album are hip hop and R&B, both being genres that my white, suburban self had exceptionally low exposure to.

I mostly skipped around to the same songs I’d hear on Radio AAHS: Fly Like An Eagle, I Believe I Can Fly, Space Jam, and Buggin’.

Over time, I found myself gravitating toward the non-kid radio songs. The most compelling of those is Hit ‘em High (The Monstars Anthem).

Here, you’ve got five of the biggest names in hip hop collaborating on a song for the heels of the movie, and it goes hard.

To this day, this song is what I play when I’m driving my kids up to their track meets.²

(If this song isn’t your jam, might I recommend Coolio’s The Winner? I hadn’t really listened to the lyrics to this song before, but given all my mental health struggles in the past few months, I think it appeared at the perfect moment for me. The song is impressively positive and reaffirming.)

I’m working through a blog post right now that discusses the properties of the perfect karaoke song.

Man in the Mirror is my go-to choice for karaoke night. I love singing Michael Jackson, but MJ is a risky karaoke choice. I’ve tried nearly all of his songs, and most of them are extremely conditional bangers.

A song like Earth Song can bring the house down if you are able to throw your entire voice into it, but it can also fall completely flat if you don’t have a crowd that’ll interact with a ballad¹.

A song like Will You Be There suffers from a recognizibility problem. Part of a good karaoke song is getting the crowd to sing along. People might recognize a song like Will You Be There if they grew up watching Free Willy, but almost nobody knows the lyrics or melody well enough to join in.

A song like Billie Jean has the recognizability, but it contains a lot of repetition towards the end. Repetition is a surefire characteristic of a bad karaoke song. Nobody wants to hear someone sing the same thing over and over again for two straight minutes. It’s a crowd killer.

Man In The Mirror, though?

Here’s a song that starts out with a lot of classic MJ “chee hee” action, then gives you a chance to warm up with something in a good range, then continues to build with more of those MJ vocal fillers, a killer key change, and ample opportunity for crowd participation.

It took years of weekly karaoke sessions to figure out what songs fit me best. Man in the Mirror offers plenty of fun Michael Jackson vocal action, the song is catchy and instantly recognizable, it’s in a pretty high range so it takes a little skill and practice to make it sound good, and most importantly, it makes me happy every time I sing it.

Editor’s note: This post contains discussion of suicide. Take care of yourselves, y’all.

Alright, so I guess some of these WeblogPoMo posts are going to be albums instead of songs, because sometimes the collective is more meaningful than any one individual song.

That’s certainly the case for this EKKSTACY album.

I first learned of EKKSTACY from the When We Were Young festival. I didn’t catch them live because they were on at the same time as the headliners, but I did give their Misery album a couple of spins leading up to the festival.

The album came across shuffle once again shortly after getting laid off at the beginning of this year, and I haven’t been able to stop listening to it.

First of all, this style of music just sounds cool to me. The guitar and bass sound so ethereal, the vocals are haunting and brooding. There’s a simplicity to the melodies that makes it feel approachable¹.

But maybe what I love the most about this album is how striking the lyrics are.

Back in February, these lyrics from the song “Christian Death” specifically were stuck in my head for days:

I just wanna die, I just wanna kill myself
I don’t give a fuck about anyone else
I never leave my house
When I die, I hope there’s a pistol in my mouth
I just wanna die, I just wanna kill myself

This past February and March were quite difficult for me. I constantly felt the worst mental pain I’ve ever felt in my life. Not only was I dealing with burnout and stress, but I also had this asshole voice called depression in my head with me nonstop.

At first, this guy would show up and whisper stuff in my ear, much like you’d see a drug dealer sneak up to someone in a 90s anti-drug PSA.

“Hey, an easy fix to all this would be to kill yourself. I wonder what that might look like.”

Just like how I’d imagine if someone snuck up to me and offered drugs in the 90s, I replied to these thoughts with genuine bewilderment and confusion.

Why would you be offering me free drugs? Your drug dealing business would be way more profitable by selling that product to your existing customers. I also do not have an income, so what would you gain by getting me addicted?

Why would I kill myself? What benefit would that actually give me? How would that solve any problem and not create way more problems for everyone around me?

The bewildered response was how I often responded to this guy because I frankly don’t have much experience interacting with those thoughts.

My usual response to bad feelings (like guilt, embarrassment, shame) is to completely shut down. Just nope out of whatever situation I am in and sit alone doing everything I can to push the thoughts away.

But there was no nope-ing out of these thoughts. And since shutting down is not an ideal response to those other feelings, I started working on how to cope with these thoughts.

One day, I was out on a walk, and that depression guy showed up and started being a jabroni again. This time, I happened to be listening to this album and those lyrics came on.

A smile appeared on my face. I felt a true feeling of relief, and I’m not quite sure why.

In some warped way, it felt a little silly hearing someone talk about killing themselves in such a brazen way.

It felt good to know other people have spent time shacked up with this depression voice and found ways to keep them from completely taking over.

Maybe the juxtaposition of endorphins from the walk, a more neutral observation of the suicidal thoughts, and actually speaking them out loud was all it took to realize how absurd it is to take those thoughts too seriously.

I’m feeling a lot better here in May, by the way. I still find myself avoiding uncomfortable and difficult feelings because, well, they suck.

But at least I now have tools to handle them. One of them is throwing on this album, sitting with the feelings for a bit, and telling them that it’ll be okay.

And I wish I could forget
That everything will end
And everyone I love has said at least one time
That when wе die, everything will be fine

My friend Scott has a newsletter called Sweep Frequency where he shares five new songs every week.

The top section of this week’s newsletter mentioned Bullion. I had never heard of them prior to today, but they recently released one of Scott’s favorite records of the year.

I put it on in the background of my evening tonight, and it fit like a glove.

This week was a bit of a challenging week for my wife, who is in charge of running exams at her school. I’ve been trying to help out as much as I can, but tough weeks are tough no matter what.

As I was driving to pick up some celebratory Dairy Queen tonight, I was working my way through the album for the fourth time, and it struck me that I was going to need to pick a song for the challenge here soon.

My theme for this year’s WeblogPoMo was music that is meaningful to me.

I don’t need to pressure myself to pick the 30ish songs that are the most meaningful to me. That’s an unreachable bar. There are way more than 30 songs which mean something to me.

Music is one of the best tools I have to help process the world. It’s there for me for every feeling I could have. Sick. Lovestruck. Mourning. Belly laughing.

So maybe it’s okay to share some times where new music made an impression on me.

I know that this song, in particular, will bring me back to the week where my wife busted her butt at work while I held things together with the kids at home.

It was really hard to just pick one Rilo Kiley song to share in this series.

It would be hard to pinpoint even a single album to share, because all of them made a meaningful impact on me in high school and college.

One of my least favorite questions to answer is “what is your favorite [x]?”

It doesn’t even matter what X is. Color. Desert. TV show. Vacation spot.

I haven’t been able to answer this question in years because I instantly become paralyzed by the question’s parameters.

Favorite musical artist?! In what context?

My favorite artist to work out to is Eminem.

My favorite artist when working through depression is EKKSTACY.

My favorite artist when I’m hanging out with my kids is Bluey.

My favorite artist when I’m in the zone at work is Daft Punk.

But if you are asking me to have to pick a that felt the most constant in my life, part of nearly every day since high school?

For me, that’s Rilo Kiley.

More Adventurous was among the first CDs I bought online. I still have a 128kbps rip in my iTunes library. It has a little skip during A Man / Me / Then Jim which now feels weird to not hear when I listen to the album on iTunes or vinyl.

More Adventurous was the soundtrack to the road trip Rob and I took sophomore year of college to Iowa and Madison. We got lost using the iPhone 3Gs’s GPS technology, ending up in the town of University, Iowa instead of the University of Iowa. Portions of Foxes kept us laughing as we whipped the U-turn to head back in the right direction.

The Execution of All Things was a constant during my freshman year of college, a comforting soundtrack during a rather lonely and scary time in my life. The Good That Won’t Come Out puts me right back in the tattered light rail seat that carried me to my early morning lectures for a rather challenging math class. With Arms Outstretched was one of the first songs I learned on the guitar.

The self-titled EP ends with a song called Gravity, sung with a bit of a country twang. Rob and I imagined it being sung by an 1840s prospector. It would occasionally come on shuffle when we’d be carpooling back from a sales meeting in the early days.

Under the Blacklight disappointed me when it first came out. I bought it on release day after a Tuesday shift at Best Buy. I threw it on in the car and couldn’t believe how processed and over-produced it sounded. In hindsight, I rather enjoy Silver Lining, which is about the most accessible entry point I can recommend for the band.

I saw Rilo Kiley for the first time during the tour for that album. The songs from the album were way better live.

I saw Jenny Lewis again a couple months ago when she came into town. She didn’t play any Rilo Kiley songs, which feels right for her. Her solo stuff is pretty good, I really enjoy songs like She’s Not Me and Red Bull & Hennessy and Just One Of The Guys.

But I would love to hear those other songs live again someday with the whole gang.

The University of Minnesota’s Twin Cities campus is massive.

When I went there, I was told it was the third largest university in the country based off square footage.

The Minneapolis campus alone has an east bank and a west bank, connected by a bridge with a top that is for pedestrian use only.

I used to live in the Como neighborhood. It was a 30 minute walk from my house to the classes I had on the west bank. I could also take the 3, which made it more like a 5 minute bus ride.

My preferred method of transportation, which I would use up until the snow made it infeasible, was my bike.

When I moved down to campus for the first time, my dad wouldn’t let me bring my Specialized bike that he got for me in seventh grade.

Instead, he insisted on buying me a $99 Schwinn bike from Target. It weighed a ton and the brakes weren’t great, but it certainly got me from A to B.

I recently got rid of that bike, and it felt like getting rid of a car. In both cases, I usually get overcome with emotions such as grief from nostalgia, guilt from abandoning something I knew so intimately, and gratitude for being able to get so much life out of it.

One of the first times I put that bike to use was to attend a class on the west bank.

When I arrived at the beginning of the Washington Avenue Bridge, I was greeted by a spectacular view of the Minneapolis skyline.

The combination of that skyline, the breeze, and the views of the river below forced this song in my head.

I started singing it out loud, unable to place where I knew it from.

After having the same moment play out over the course of a semester, it finally dawned on me that I knew that song from hours of riding my bike in Pokémon.

Pure joy. That’s what this song reminds me of.

Even this evening, when I rode bikes with my family up to try the new ice cream shop in town, I got this song stuck in my head.

It truly is the perfect song for a bike trip.