songs that feel like home, like leaving, like playlists can be sanctuaries
sometimes one song won't do, sometimes you need a whole army of songs that feel like a perfect soundtrack.
It started with Drops of Jupiter when I was younger—it was a song that sounded like sinking into yourself, like comfort. And then it was Cool by Gwen Stefani. In high school, This Too Shall Pass by OK Go and Where Does the Good Go by Tegan and Sara. Songs that made me feel like they were part of a bigger story, like they helped me tell my own. Or make sense of my own. Songs that felt like they were plucked from my ribs and made into something that made everything I was feeling more than something I had to carry, but something that could wash over me and absolve me.
Have you ever had a song like that?
I’d always made mix tapes, and then mix CDs for people. It was my favorite thing to do in high school. Now, Spotify playlists. The joys of evolving technology.
I can’t put my finger on it but there’s something about curating a good playlist for any mood that feels like you’ve built a cozy bed out of music—out of the songs that know you most, that you could hollow out, put your own words in and sing them back to yourself. I’m always surprised when I find out that someone I’m talking to doesn’t make a playlist for every mood or specific feeling they’ve ever felt. Have you ever made a really good list of songs that flow together so well that while you’re playing it, it almost feels like for a second this is your movie soundtrack? This is your scene, the one where the really good thing happens and everything works out. Or the one where you keep not telling your best friend you have a crush on her and you’re sooooooo angry with yourself.
I remember spending late nights putting together songs that felt right together, that felt like they flowed. I made mix CDs for friends asking their friends Since high school, I’ve made playlists for everything. Scrolling back through them, I see one of the first ones I ever made is called “For Leaving and Being Left.” Ouch. It was my last year of high school and I was going through a bad breakup. I think I must have listened to Closing Time by Semisonic on repeat a million times. But one song wasn’t enough. I needed an army of songs to help me get through it. So I started making playlists. Because music, like poetry or writing, was the only vessel large enough to stuff myself into and rest a while, and still have room to breathe.
Long before Spotify released its curated playlists feature, I was making playlists perfect for studying, for the transition from winter to spring, more breakup playlists, and songs for days when shit was hitting the fan and I needed a chorus or a hook or a melody to make me feel like I could handle myself. Songs that, when matched together, were exactly the right soundtrack needed for the exact situation I found myself in. Because sometimes you need someone to tell you that things will be okay or that you can do this but even if you asked someone to say those things to you, it wouldn’t feel right. Music can say those things to you, however, and you won’t worry it’s lying to you or just trying to make you feel better. The music is already there, waiting for you, not judging you for whatever you need from it, a reprieve.
One of my favorites was Tender Tunes for Trying Times (I’m a sucker for alliteration, have you been able to tell?) and the whole playlist is just gentle songs that make me feel like like it’s okay to be tender, to be striving, to be in the mix of things with time yet to get it right.
There’s Sad Gay Poetry Writing for, well what else but when I’m sitting down to write some sad gay poetry. It’s mostly Lucy Dacus. No surprises there.
There’s my My Hopes Are So High that Your Kiss Might Kill Me playlist, aptly named after the Dashboard Confessional lyrics that murder my soul in ten different ways every time I sing along to them. This one is for having a crush, for first dates, for when you like someone but you can’t tell them because it’s not the time or place. Those songs for wandering around thinking about that person when you should probably be doing something else.
But perhaps my favorite playlists I’ve made recently are those for incredibly specific feelings that, when you hear a song that speaks that into existence when you didn’t know words for it were possible, makes you feel like the universe sees you, and maybe you’re not alone. That’s what music is good for.
The first, Where Everybody Knows Your Name, is full of songs that have felt like home throughout the years of my life. No matter what I’ve been going through at any given moment in time—houselessness, joblessness, fights with friends or loved ones—times when I really didn’t feel like I had one safe physical place where I could relax and find comfort, these are songs that have acted as a sanctuary, music enveloping me in the feeling that home exists, even if it isn’t a place to sit, even if it’s only in the palm of your hand.
Lastly, my Tomorrow is a New Day playlist is full of songs that remind me that nothing lasts forever, that there’s comfort at the end of a new day and always a chance to try again. I think this is one of the first playlists where most of the songs I put on it were sourced from asking people on Twitter what they listen to when they need that comfort, so it feels even more special to know that I’m listening to songs that mean something to someone else and have gotten other people through hard times. It feels like connection.
If you’ve never tried making a playlist for a specific situation or mood, or if you haven’t tried in a while, make some space for yourself to create one. Think of songs or bands that make you feel connected to that feeling, that help it wash through you, that make you feel less alone in it. Sometimes we need things that feel familiar but we don’t have a person. Just a bunch of songs that found their way together to sing whatever you need to hear.
And if you need inspiration for making your own, each playlist photo is linked. Happy playlist curating!
Sincerely,
Elly