Playlist #20: Music for an over-familiar void

It's time to once again ask that old, boring question: does anyone care? Don't worry—this month's playlist isn't that melancholic.

I couldn’t believe it. I have done twenty playlists on the Once Monthly.

And then I remembered that, no, I have actually done twenty-two playlists. This may officially be number 20, but I also did an introductory playlist from before I officially launched this project—which means you probably didn’t come across it—and then there’s the first of the annual Heavy Rotation playlists.

Still, that’s more or less 22 hours of music, all of which I enjoyed putting together every month. I’m sure I talked about my ambition two decades ago of working on radio, specifically the realization that I’m probably more inclined towards a behind-the-scene role than an on-air one, if only because I have a lisp and my voice sounds horrible. Fast forward to now: between the radio industry still figuring out its relevance in this “digital world”, and me being on the wrong side of 30, and this is the closest I’ll get to realizing that dream. Me, making Spotify playlists that no one is probably listening to, while also aiding the enemy, arguably.

Still, it’s fun. For one, I honestly thought it would be hard. What if I end up just putting the songs I liked to begin with? Sooner or later I’ll run out of songs. And again, I’m on the wrong side of 30. Supposedly people stop seeking out new music at around 35. Me, I ask, what is new music? I heard the Superimposers for the first time a few weeks back. “Sometimes” is a song from 2010, but it’s new to me in a medical laboratory waiting room in 2024. You know how those waits are. Mundane, but also dreadful—perfect conditions for me to get turned on to a song.

So I decide to put it in this playlist, and then resist the urge to put a song that I do like, that I have always liked. Rufus Wainwright succeeded. Sorry, the Avalanches, you’ll have to wait. While I resist shedding a tear just remembering the music video to “Since I Left You”, I end up putting another song that breaks down my defenses. This one’s newer, much newer.

I, also, haven’t come across Baby Rose before. My musical blind spots come into play again. The American neo-soul singer has released two albums and a handful of EPs, the latest of which is a collaboration with BADBADNOTGOOD. Slow Burn does feel like what the title suggests, and its highlight, “One Last Dance”, just had to play while I was driving home from a meeting.

I have been feeling extra vulnerable the last few weeks. You know, those feelings that you’ve always been alone and that nobody cared for you all this time? That, once again, found its way into the songs I chose. I would say it feels just as French as the last playlist I did—and indeed, it triggered me listening again to FIP and Radio Nova and even the online stream from Les Inrockuptibles, a magazine I could only wish to read because, well, I don’t read French.

Sure, this hour is mostly, probably, lugubrious, but you can tell I attempted not to. You know, toxic positivity, those voices telling you, in the same breath, that you should be true to yourself but also keep your inconvenient feelings hidden. So there’s some upbeat stuff in here, too.

I am still listening to Belgian radio, so there’s still inevitably a steady stream of alternative music from that country in my playlists. This time I was enamored by the Haunted Youth, primarily the project of Joachim Liebens. “Into You” is the newest release, and there really is something about synth-driven dream pop that kind of toes that line between what is and what could have been—and makes you straddle that line, for one. Or maybe it’s because I know music like this evokes the 1980s, which is all hazy to me because I wasn’t born yet, while also sounding very much from my present.

And then I think of putting another song I have always loved. Radiohead succeeded, but not after I pinch myself. If this whole project is fantasy fulfillment, then you shouldn’t be so self-indulgent. Put something in there that the people who are along for the ride might like.

Incidentally, I got news about a new album from likewise2000, also known as Clarence Garcia, formerly the guitarist of Filipino post-rock band tide/edit. Flashbacks to my old music blog when I was more able to attempt to make sense of what’s coming out of my country’s—my city’s?—indie scene. I was reading through the press release and honestly feared that Memory Card, with its references to “the PlayStation generation” and the optimism of the turn of the millennium, would be lost in me. I mean, sure, I was 11 at the time, and I remember how momentous it all felt. (I also keep on watching clips of Peter Jennings doing that 24-hour marathon coverage of global New Year’s celebrations.) But it’s been 24 years since, and… can you imagine harking back to that optimism now, now that democracy is a fantasy and war is inevitable and you’re wrong if your opinions don’t exactly align with theirs?

Music does bring you back, doesn’t it? Memory Card is a surprisingly accessible record, one that obviously started with snippets (as Clarence himself put it) and ended up being a reminder of what was, and what can be. (I also thought it would be a glitchy record, but no, it’s actually warm and welcoming.) I ended up putting the final song on the record, “Tree”, which he described as akin to final boss battle sequence… only I actually imagine it to be the music that plays once you actually defeat the big boss, finish the game, and watch the credits roll.

But, in this playlist, the final song ends up being that Radiohead song. “Planet Telex” is another favorite. I know, I leaned on a lot of my favorites for this hour. A reminder, maybe, of what was, and what could be. But, as I hit publish, I wonder: is anyone actually going to listen to this playlist? Do I have to do more to become an interesting character worthy of having the songs I like at the moment be listened to? Or am I just curating it for this over-familiar void?

As if that stopped me. The next few weeks will be busy, but I intend to continue publishing as normal, somewhat. There will be a Plaka Note on 23 August, and then there will be a new playlist on 13 September—incidentally the second busiest day of my year, the sort that requires hype music for me to get through. Wish me luck, either through the socials, or through nicksyoncemonthly@gmail.com, will you? But I’m not forcing you.

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On this playlist

• The Superimposers—“Sometimes”
  Sunshine Pops! (2010)

• Rufus Wainwright—“Grey Gardens”
  Poses (2001)

• Mac DeMarco—“Young Coconut”
  Some Other Ones (2015)

• Benee—“Find an Island”
  Stella & Steve (2019)

• Clairo—“Add Up My Love”
  Charm (2024)

• Metronomy and Pan Amsterdam—“Nice Town”
  Posse EP Volume 2 (2024)

• Editors—“An End Has A Start”
  An End Has A Start (2007)

• Maxïmo Park—“The End Can Be As Good As The Start”
  Stream of Life (2024)

• likewise2000—“Tree”
  Memory Card (2024)

• Anjulie—“Chai and Sunshine” (featuring Yanchan Produced)
  single release (2024)

• Laura Marling—“Patterns”
  Patterns in Repeat (2024)

• Baby Rose and BADBADNOTGOOD—“One Last Dance”
  Slow Burn (2024)

• Matt Maltese—“The Earth Is A Very Small Dot”
  single release (2023)

• Alice Phoebe Lou—“The World Above”
  single release (2024)

• L’Impératrice—“Pulsar”
  Pulsar (2024)

• The Haunted Youth—“Into You”
  single release (2024)

• Radiohead—“Planet Telex”
  The Bends (1995)