Winter's Best, 2023

This past winter was marked by transit droughts, slipping and sliding, and putting successively more tape around the headband of my Sony WH-1000XM3 headphones that I've had since senior year of high school. Sonically, I spent a large part of the winter developing a collaborative playlist with my dear friend Annette, dubbed earth & moles; this promoted a rare shift from album-based listening to playlist-based listening. All said, here are the selections that most defined my December, January, Feburary, and March.

Bjork & Mark Bell, Alarm Call - Potage Du Jour (1998)

I've a fascination with the things I can barely remember. The things your mom and dad loved when you were an early child; some you distantly remember, and some that give you a jolt upon a chance rediscovery. This means I am extremely fond of the 1996 film, Twister, the Namco Museum Playstation game, and Little House on the Prairie. Indescribely (meaning, I honestly cannot verbalize why, I tried!), this song evokes those feelings for me. And, well, I do enjoy a soup of the day.

Kelela & collaborators, RAVE:N, The Remixes (2024)

I read a comment about Kelela a few days ago: to remix your own songs is high-class musicianship.

Bjork, Sod Off (1997)

Did Bjork write this for that reporter in Thailand? I appreciate the dramatic three-chord strings of this piece, and I admire the frankness with which Bjork describes setting boundaries; it seems like a headstrong and youthful expression of the same sentiments expressed in Stonemilker, a song on an album she recorded almost 20 years later.

Shygirl & collaborators, Club Shy (2024)

Sometime right after the rollout of this Extended Play (EP)'s second single, f@k€, I read a bit from an interview where Shygirl said this EP was meant to sonically convey a shift from the blue hues of her debut album, Nymph to warmer, red tones. This was super interesting to me as someone who often associates different types of genres, keys, and instruments with different colors and temperatures. I feel like Shygirl generally achieves this through incorporating instantly-recognizable club beats (which I associate with a hot, sweaty club) and more major-dominated keys, especially in thicc, the lead single. (Also, look at the cover). No skips on this Extended Play, in my humble opinion.

Kali Uchis, Red Moon in Venus (2023)

This album rarely misses; particularly, Moral Consciousness is my favorite song of all I encountered during the winter period, although I derived extra satisfaction via overlaying the perspective of a spurned lover. Turns out, Uchis wrote the song about family drama (via Spotify's "Storyline" feature). Continuing a large theme of this article, apparently, most of the songs are in quite 'warm' keys like A flat minor, G flat minor, and B flat major (an addendum: I'm not sure if most think of these keys as 'warm'; just my personal opinion).

Eartheater, Trinity (2019)

In case you couldn't tell, I quite love warm-sounding synths, and this album is full of them. Preservation, in particular, is a sweltering, delirious fever.

Dua Lipa & Danny L Harle, Houdini - Slowride Mix (2024)

Similar to Eartheater's Preservation, this Danny L. Harle remix of Dua Lipa's lead single of Eternal Optimism features some amazingly warm synths. It also has appeal for me by taking the punch of the original version of "Houdini" and slowing it down to a more sultry pace.

Aphex Twin, Selected Ambient Works 85-92 (1992)

Only in the past year have I really been able to pick up instrumental tracks. This started with 90s house variants from 808 State, Chicane, and Opus III, and then moved into more ambient & experimental offerings from Aphex Twin. Xtal is one of the warmest songs I've ever heard.

Maurice Ravel, Gaspard de la nuit, I. Ondine (1908)

The whole Gaspard de la nuit suite is one of my favorites ever, and I had the chance to see Behzod Abduraimov play it live at Carnegie Hall in January. It feels entirely introspective, and yet also sonically reminiscient of an explorative epic like Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.

Wham!, Last Christmas, (1984)

How is it possible that the synthesizers in this Christmas holiday song emit such warmth and loss at the same time? For me, this song is always a large stimulus behind end-of-year introspection; but, I'm not really listening to the words.

In parting, I can only say that warm synths counteract the freeze.