Playlist #25: Everything in circles

Or, how to talk about how I put these playlists together to cover up what has genuinely been a crappy month.

Surprisingly, I haven’t thought of listening to all of my playlists back to back. In this case, it was the last twelve playlists, a sort of year-in-review for yours truly.

Halfway through, I realized that my playlists are pretty predictable.

But then, I am being harsh on myself. Of course they would be predictable to me. I put them all together. If making playlists is tantamount to putting a little bit of you out there, then playing them all back to back is like staring at yourself in the mirror, and complaining that your nose is big, when it has always been big. (Although in my case, it hasn’t. I’ve been wearing glasses since second grade, though, so that definitely played a role.)

Even if I didn’t do the whole “these playlists reflect what I feel” thing, I’d still be quite familiar with how I curate things. I don’t like playlists that only have one vibe. I’m a believer in light and shade, although I don’t believe in jarring segues. I’m actually a little fussier than this, but then, these are just hour-long playlists and not radio shows, so I’ll spare you.

What I am a little annoyed at is how my playlists almost always ends on a soft note. I wish it was because I wanted gentler endings after a long ride through my psyche in song, but often it’s really because, by the end of every month, I feel quite down and I want something that can function as a restorative. So, yeah, again, sorry not sorry for having sad playlists. See, I did it again for this one! You can even cleanly define the point when it becomes a little more melancholic: right after the theme music to the live-action remake of Oshi No Ko, by Japanese jazz band Fox Capture Plan.

I mean, if you listen to the whole hour, you’d notice that it makes a perfect transition from one half to the other. I was a bit enamored by the jittery piano giving way to a wall of sound as the end credits rolled.

Anyway, the first half is mostly indie pop that I stumbled upon—the algorithms did extra work on this one—with the exception of the two Korean songs on top: I rediscovered J Rabbit’s “Happy Things” for some reason, while I already raved about Kim Pureum a year ago or so and was on the lookout for her new album. But is this really the happy half? Maybe, although there is none of the really obviously happy stuff. (I temper things that way.) And even then, there’s a tinge of sadness that only I can get with otherwise cheerful stuff like Lipstick Palms’ “Big Blue House”.

The Aussies, again. They call themselves an “emotive lo-fi pop duo”, based in Western Australia but with one member (is it Tom or Peppa?) coming from Sydney. I only really heard this one song on the radio, but it comes around quite often to the point that it sat in my head before I could let it sit, and, yes, I am going to quote the chorus and leave you to figure out what’s so sad about this.

This is so contagious
I’ve been radiant for your love
So sick of waiting tables, but I will wait here for your love
Doo doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo
We’ve been taking ages so I can be the one that you trust

Now that I think about it, this all does remind me of Filipino sibling duo Outerhope and “Sky High Blue”, which was also played a lot on the still-missed NU 107. A slice of my college memories that should’ve been on this playlist. It isn’t on the streaming services, but you can download it on Bandcamp.

The second half is the… okay, again, I should be nice to myself. It’s not the “sad stuff”. It’s the downtempo stuff. This all came together just as I finished listening to Wallice’s The Jester (see my last playlist for more on that) and particularly, the surprisingly jazzy “Flash in the Pan”, a tonal shift from the rest of the album that really hits the spot for me. Then I thought I’d like to put a D’Sound classic on there, and then I thought I’d like to put Air’s “Ce matin-là” in there—very much a “good morning, sun is up” track, very much a restorative.

What tied that half for me is another K-pop song, from one of those idols who found their big hopes dashed. I didn’t know GWSN had broken up—and under pretty murky circumstances, too. (Something about a lawsuit?) To be fair, while I knew of the group I didn’t really keep track of what they do—the pains of being that guy who listens to everyone rather than just their favorites. So I didn’t know that Lena, with the breathy voice and the almost trippy arrangement to her second single, “Bed”, came from that group, and already had that reputation as one of their songwriters.

And man, this song hits.

온통 너로 가득 찰 때면
When I’m filled with you
난 더 외로워 괴로워 안아줘 세게
I feel lonelier and more miserable

This song is actually a few months old. I actually first heard a “snowing” remix of the track, the sort of thing labels release in time for the holidays. Then I wondered if I would’ve properly discovered her, as opposed to knowing about one thing and not taking the time to dig deeper, if GWSN became one of those rookie groups that see astronomical success. Like, you know, GFriend. Sorry. I did say I’m writing about them next week, right?

Wait, sorry, are you even interested in the process? I wrote just last week about wanting to be “useful” and here I am, talking about the process of putting these things together instead of being a proper curator. Well, it was interesting to me, but is it interesting to you?

All right, I’ll give it up. December hasn’t been good. Maybe it’s because of how gloomy the weather has been—we don’t really get rainy Christmases this often—or maybe it’s because I’ve just had this raincloud for so long, I don’t notice it as something different, something off. When everything gets darker, it gets darker. I feel like Kana on Oshi No Ko, someone who’s really good at what she does but feels really insecure because she’s been cast aside so many times, all she wants is to be acknowledged and loved. It sounds pathetic coming from me, but there you go.

Side note: the actress playing her in the live action series, Nanoka Hara, really manages to convey both the god complex and the pathos that fight within her, with one stare. Or several. Maybe it’s why I feel so much more affected by this version than by the animated series. Or maybe it’s because I already knew the plot by the time it premiered.

Anyway, to my dismay, and despite my doctor’s orders, I gained weight in the past couple of months, and my blood sugar is higher than usual. I had a check-up yesterday (relative to when I wrote this, which is… the day before this is published) and I simply told my doctor, “it’s all the sugary drinks. I’ve been quite sad this past month.”

So, yes, yet another sad playlist.

No need to tease, since I pretty much gave it away earlier: I’ve got a Hyperfocus essay this time next week, and my first Plaka Note of the year the week after that. My next playlist drops on 14 February… ah, crap. Get my head out of that gutter, please? I’m usually fine, but loneliness and feeling socially isolated does a number on you. Email me at nicksyoncemonthly@gmail.com for song recommendations, or follow me on the socials, where I usually elaborate on the song choices, and then some. Anyone?

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On this playlist

• J Rabbit—“Happy Things”
  Looking Around (2012)

• Kim Pureum—“Romeo & Juliet”
  ’Bluish’ Unplugged (2024)

• Hann—“We Were Seventeen”
  Forever in a Glance (2024)

• Mara Woods—“Like You”
  single release (2024)

• Salarymen—“I Forget About Time”
  Day by Day (2024)

• Lipstick Palms—“Big Blue House”
  single release (2024)

• Men I Trust—“Husk”
  single release (2024)

• Fox Capture Plan—「推しの子 Main Theme」 (Oshi No Ko Main Theme)
  Oshi No Ko Drama Original Soundtrack (2024)

• First Aid Kit—“Emmylou”
  The Lion’s Roar (2012)

• Alela Diane—“Paloma”
  Looking Glass (2022)

• Gabrielle Aplin—“Go Be Free”
  single release (2024)

• Wafia—“Sad Shit”
  Promised Land (2025)

• Lena—“침대 (Bed)”
  single release (2024)

• Charlotte Day Wilson—“I Don’t Love You”
  Cyan Blue (2024)

• Wallice—“Flash in the Pan”
  The Jester (2024)

• D’Sound—“People Are People”
  Doublehearted (2003)

• Air—“Ce matin-là”
  Moon Safari (1998)