Hi, everyone! If you’re reading this on the day it’s published, today is my 32nd birthday! There’s so much power and vulnerability in being known by people who love you, and there’s even more in letting strangers see some of the same. We all have so many stories to tell, and for my birthday this year I want to tell you all some of mine through songs that shaped me. It’s not going to flow, it will be just about as jarring sometimes as life can be, but that’s a little bit of the point. I hope you enjoy the ride.

“Yellow Submarine” recalls childhood laughter, soap box derby cars (whose creation was aided by mad scientist friends in labs so aerodynamics didn’t matter), and constant music. My family has always shared it. My dad had a 300 disc changer and good speakers hardwired into the family room so it could be enjoyed by everyone. His CDs were carefully placed and logged and I definitely ruined that more times than I can count. My early childhood was light and peaceful— this song is that childhood and I’m so glad to have it, perfect always.

I will forever be grateful to my dad for his insistence on nurturing my affinity for music. He bought a piano the moment I showed interest, and while part of that was because he wanted to bring it back into his own life more readily, the timing was for me. I took piano lessons for years, but what I remember most was my dad remastering a classic, “Moonlight Sonata”, and later composing his own pieces on that piano late into the night. I learned he originally went to school for music then switched to business per his parents’ insistence. All of this occurred when he was well into his 40s, teaching me that it’s never too late to rediscover a lost passion. 

One more Beatles song before I leave them well enough alone. “The End” is a simple song, just one real line of lyrics that’s a shot to the heart. “And in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make” is absolutely why I am the way I am with my friends and loved ones. This song was my childhood reminder to put good into the world and you’re more likely to get good out too. I think I took it to heart.

“American Idiot” was an album I learned about in the summer of ‘05, within a month or so of my dad passing. Once I got through the initial sadness I was left with rage. This whole album knew rage and sadness in spades. While there’s more obvious choices for songs about loss for this playlist, for that reason I’m going with the first one I remember hearing, the title track. This album was my gateway, it was the beginning of my healing.

Attention, attention, may I tell you a story of learning about The Academy Is…? In my middle school best friend’s bedroom, she and our other friends were working their way through albums by artists on the 2006 Warped Tour lineup. I had read the list and was so new in the scene that I had no intention of going. Then this song started. “Attention” caught my attention instantly, and within a minute and a half or so I said aloud “fuck, now I want to go to Warped Tour”. It was made perfectly for my ears and the rest of the album that followed didn’t buck that trend. Warped Tour ‘06 ended up being my first concert and with their extra 10 minutes in Chicago (well, Tinley Park), The Academy Is… played my song.

Among all of the pain of loss and new schools and general middle school shit that felt too much, there was being a teenager in Bush era politics realizing they’re queer. There was this girl— red dyed hair, athletic, a musician, and one of my best friends. Her favorite band was Paramore and I’ll be damned if “Brighter” didn’t become about her. Now, as the aforementioned heart on my sleeve kid, I told her. She was cool about it from the word go. She was straight (the story of most of our first queer crushes), but never once weird about it. She let me down easy and continued to be one of my best friends.

We’re going with something a little unexpected for the My Chemical Romance song here, too. “Summertime” is a song that will always remind me of the first person that made me think I knew what love was. It was a mark of when I finally started to feel…okay again. After years of darkness finally there was hope and joy again. Yes, it ended in teenage heartbreak, but being open to true joy again was a dream. The heartbreak was temporary. The joy has held on, sustaining, since. I always had a soft spot for Danger Days as an album. I saw MCR healing and felt healing in myself.

This is how we find ourselves taking a hard turn into the land of Starkid (if you know you know). “Super Friends” is silly with heart. It’s the levity I needed. I was so inspired by a group of friends leaning into their weird art together and longed to find the same. My turn to Starkid also marks my brief departure from the scene. I needed to hyperfixate elsewhere for a while. I needed to take some time away from songs that made me stew in the hard feelings. So Starkid it was. Mostly this break allowed me to explore the parts of myself I kept cutting off for fear of not being “scene” enough, whatever that meant to my 18 year old self.

Which brings us to the One Direction era. I had refused to listen to them for years because they were just a boy band. “Midnight Memories” changed me so much that it became my tumblr url. This new love also officially marks when I stopped caring so much about what other people thought of me. Some people would have considered falling in love with One Direction at 20 years old regression, to me it was pure growth. It was allowing myself to be the pop girlie I always was but wouldn’t allow myself to be. They reminded me to be free. 

So now we’ll close out with a bit more of that freedom, “What A Time To Be Alive”. While I went back to the scene in so many ways when Fall Out Boy returned, I was a much more complicated person after my own hiatus. We should all hope to be as we age, with life experience and perspective and an understanding of nuance. Sometimes you have to take a bit of a break to grow in a different way than before. We’re everything we’ve ever been all at once. We’re all the misery, the rage, the joy, the hope, the hopelessness. We’re so utterly human, complicated and simple, the same and entirely unique. I’m glad I can livestream the apocalypse with you all knowing me a little better. Thanks for listening.