It was a good year for music. Here is a list of my favorite Indie/Alternative Rock songs that were released in 2017:
50. The Man - The Killers
49. Up All Night - Beck
48. For Sondra (It Means The World To Me) - Passion Pit
47. Ti Amo - Phoenix
46. One More Love Song - Mac DeMarco
45. When You Die - MGMT
44. Name For You - The Shins
43. Inner Dialogue - Passion Pit
42. Role Model - Phoenix
41. Lotus Eater - Foster the People
40. Fantasy Island - The Shins
39. For the First Time - Mac DeMarco
38. I Love My Friends - Foster the People
37. Somewhere Up There - Passion Pit
36. So Now What - The Shins
35. Sweep Me Off My Feet- Pond
34. Tremendous Sea of Love - Passion Pit
33. Sit Next To Me - Foster the People
32. On the Level - Mac DeMarco
31. Powerlines - Tame Impala
30. Undertow - Passion Pit
29. The Fear - The Shins
28. Loyal Like Sid & Nancy - Foster the People
27. Little Dark Age - MGMT
26. Fior Di Latte - Phoenix
25. III - Foster the People
24. 30000 Megatons - Pond
23. List of People (To Try And Forget About) - Tame Impala
22. Tuttifrutti - Phoenix
21. Edge of the World Part 2 - Pond
20. Everytime - Boy Pablo
19. All I Can Think About Is You - Coldplay
18. Hey K - Passion Pit
17. All I Want for Xmas (Is a Tascam 388) - Pond
16. Paint Me Silver - Pond
15. Everything Now - Arcade Fire
14. Half a Million - The Shins
13. The Weather - Pond
12. I'm Perfect - Passion Pit
11. Taxi's Here - Tame Impala
10. Colder Than Ice - Pond
9. Moonlight On the River - Mac DeMarco
8. Static Space Lover - Foster the People
7. Edge of the World Part 1 - Pond
T-5. Telefono - Phoenix
T-5. J-Boy - Phoenix
4. Harden the Paint - Foster the People
3. Goodbye Soleil - Phoenix
2. Doing it For the Money - Foster the People
1. Pay the Man - Foster the People
Sunday, December 17, 2017
Thursday, May 18, 2017
We Can Go Anywhere, Arnie. We Can Go Anywhere.
At first glance, graduating from University seems not any different than the previous 17 or so summer vacations I've lived through. Maybe because it's summertime in St. Paul, or maybe it's the immediacy of it all. Either way, there is a major difference that sometimes is difficult to comprehend. Whether I believe it or not, I don't have to go back to school in the fall. I don't ever have to go back.
But if I wanted to, I could.
If I wanted to go back to my alma matter in August to pursue a master's degree, I could. If I wanted to move to Cincinnati, I could. Now more than ever, life is filled with boundless opportunities. And that's what separates this summer from any other summer: the rediscovery of freedom. I was always free, what with free will and everything; I could have dropped out of school and disappeared at a moment's notice. In my case, however, that would not have felt like the right thing to do. Of course freedom includes the ability to choose whatever one wants, but it also implies that the chooser will choose what at the time feels like the right decision. And in my current position, I've never had so much opportunity for potentially right decisions.
This realization struck on May 14th while I was driving on I-29 between Grand Forks and Fargo. For the first half hour, I had only two things on my mind: Mac DeMarco (Ya, I got a CD player) and getting to St. Paul as efficiently as possible. Then suddenly, for the first time out of all the times I've ever driven that route, I asked myself why.
I glanced at my gas tank. Over 3/4 tank. I glanced at the passenger seat. A small box, with over $1000 inside. Cash. In the rearview mirror I noticed a portion of my possessions, knowing that most of the rest was in the trunk. The road signs said 45 miles to Fargo, but I knew better than that. In 6.5 hours, I'm in Omaha. Without even making a single turn. Another 3 hours and I'm in Kansas City. Wouldn't it be lovely to explore Kansas City? I've always wanted to visit Kansas City. And even then, if I kept going, if for some reason KC had nothing for me, I'm already halfway to the Gulf of Mexico. By the same time the next day, May 15th, I'm on the beach. Looking out at the ocean and beyond...
We all know that I did none of those things. In Fargo, I took the eastbound I-94 exit to Minneapolis. Just like all the other times. But the question is, why didn't I keep going? What stopped me?
The answer is simple, and it has to do with love and magnets. Specifically, the magnetism of love. As a fourth generation resident of St. Paul, most of my friends and nearly all of my family live right in the city. It's where I grew up, and along with Minneapolis, is home to many, many places, some as tiny as a room, some as vast as a river, that I've grown to love. It's not easy being alone in this world. But when I'm in St. Paul, as blasé as it sometimes gets, loneliness may as well be a theoretical experience. In St. Paul, often I feel as if there's no where else I'd rather be.
And so, just like a magnet, we're drawn to the people and places we love. Without love's magnetism, it's hard to imagine the existence of cities at all. Without love's magnetism, humans are castaways amid oceans of land, drifting between settings and existences the way fish drift the sea.
In another reality, I never took that turn in Fargo. I kept going. I landed at the Gulf of Mexico, and who knows? Maybe I did find something greater there. Maybe my treasure is waiting for me at the Louisiana coast. Maybe a love more profound than any Minnesota product is right there, sitting next to the crashing waves of the sea.
But that's neither here nor there. Even if I jumped back in my car to find out, the magnets always find a way to pull me back.
But if I wanted to, I could.
If I wanted to go back to my alma matter in August to pursue a master's degree, I could. If I wanted to move to Cincinnati, I could. Now more than ever, life is filled with boundless opportunities. And that's what separates this summer from any other summer: the rediscovery of freedom. I was always free, what with free will and everything; I could have dropped out of school and disappeared at a moment's notice. In my case, however, that would not have felt like the right thing to do. Of course freedom includes the ability to choose whatever one wants, but it also implies that the chooser will choose what at the time feels like the right decision. And in my current position, I've never had so much opportunity for potentially right decisions.
This realization struck on May 14th while I was driving on I-29 between Grand Forks and Fargo. For the first half hour, I had only two things on my mind: Mac DeMarco (Ya, I got a CD player) and getting to St. Paul as efficiently as possible. Then suddenly, for the first time out of all the times I've ever driven that route, I asked myself why.
I glanced at my gas tank. Over 3/4 tank. I glanced at the passenger seat. A small box, with over $1000 inside. Cash. In the rearview mirror I noticed a portion of my possessions, knowing that most of the rest was in the trunk. The road signs said 45 miles to Fargo, but I knew better than that. In 6.5 hours, I'm in Omaha. Without even making a single turn. Another 3 hours and I'm in Kansas City. Wouldn't it be lovely to explore Kansas City? I've always wanted to visit Kansas City. And even then, if I kept going, if for some reason KC had nothing for me, I'm already halfway to the Gulf of Mexico. By the same time the next day, May 15th, I'm on the beach. Looking out at the ocean and beyond...
We all know that I did none of those things. In Fargo, I took the eastbound I-94 exit to Minneapolis. Just like all the other times. But the question is, why didn't I keep going? What stopped me?
The answer is simple, and it has to do with love and magnets. Specifically, the magnetism of love. As a fourth generation resident of St. Paul, most of my friends and nearly all of my family live right in the city. It's where I grew up, and along with Minneapolis, is home to many, many places, some as tiny as a room, some as vast as a river, that I've grown to love. It's not easy being alone in this world. But when I'm in St. Paul, as blasé as it sometimes gets, loneliness may as well be a theoretical experience. In St. Paul, often I feel as if there's no where else I'd rather be.
And so, just like a magnet, we're drawn to the people and places we love. Without love's magnetism, it's hard to imagine the existence of cities at all. Without love's magnetism, humans are castaways amid oceans of land, drifting between settings and existences the way fish drift the sea.
In another reality, I never took that turn in Fargo. I kept going. I landed at the Gulf of Mexico, and who knows? Maybe I did find something greater there. Maybe my treasure is waiting for me at the Louisiana coast. Maybe a love more profound than any Minnesota product is right there, sitting next to the crashing waves of the sea.
But that's neither here nor there. Even if I jumped back in my car to find out, the magnets always find a way to pull me back.
Sunday, May 14, 2017
End Times
By now it is clear that Grand Forks, North Dakota truly is a simple place—the land of zero lakes, where chain stores rule all and nature is nothing more than endless plains of farmland.
For almost 4 years, somewhere within those endless plains lived a boy who for 18 of them only knew the skyscrapers of not one, but two major cities. Amidst these plains, he met some truly fantastic people whom he will never forget.
But not a day went by, not one single day during those 4 years, in which the boy went without daydreaming of the moment, a glorious moment indeed, of when he would ultimately obtain his university degree and return to St. Paul indefinitely.
The moment is now.
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