(Yes I am a year late here, but I heard this song today for the first time in a while and it really hit me sideways.)
Lorde's seminal classic Melodrama details the collapse of one's first major relationship and all the youthful malaise that comes with it. The album's penultimate track, "Supercut," is one of its most optimistic, as Lorde imagines a highlight reel of the best moments from the relationship gone by. At the same time, she recognizes that this is an idealized, illusory memory.
"David," the climactic final track of last year's Virgin, is that song's unofficial sequel. In it, we see the supercut unravel, the reel spliced as represented by the song's now-famous choppy, oscillating instrumental. The music dances from one ear to the other and grows more distorted as Lorde's positive memories of her ex love disintegrate and she remembers the painful moments in equal measure. "I made you God 'cause it was all that I knew how to do," she mourns, chastising herself. As assured as Lorde is that moving on was the right call, there's still uncertainty in her future, with the song ending on the repeated question, "Am I ever gonna love again?"
What makes "David" so spectacular is its reflection of theme; as Lorde's image of her ex falls apart, so does the song. Closing Virgin on this note is a breathtaking choice and underscores the best of Lorde's artistry.
Back in the heyday of the MP3, I used to relish every time I found a free song download of merit. As a law-abiding teenager (and with a mom who worked in the music industry), LimeWire was out of the question, so I used to collect the artist-sanctioned free downloads via MTV.com, Stereogum's monthly mixes, and more to help fill up my iPod. I don't remember exactly where I found Girl In a Coma's "Smart," but I do know that it was easily one of my greatest finds.
Girl In a Coma formed in San Antonio and is made up of sisters Nina (vocals/guitar) and Phanie Diaz (drums) along with bassist Jenn Alva. "Smart," released on 2011's Exile & All The Rest, is beautifully lush and driving track that showcases the band at their jangle-pop best. 2011 was pretty much the peak of indie's reverb era, and "Smart" makes great use of the technique; the echoing production allows the song to burst wide open. There is some clear Johnny Marr worship going on with the guitars - expected given the band's name comes from a Smiths song - with interweaving riffs dancing around each other like flower petals in the breeze. The final piece of magic comes from Nina Diaz's voice; breathy and assured, she delivers each line with the delicacy of a whisper without sacrificing any of her volume or power. "Don't you ever start to wonder what it's like to be alone?" she asks in the chorus. Harmonies jump in and out to add yet another layer to an already rich track.
"Smart" is certainly a song of its time, but that does not detract from its playful brilliance. For anyone looking for an unfairly overlooked gem from when indie was at its most optimistic, this is a great landing spot. Girl In a Coma actually reunited recently, and a follow up to Exile & All The Rest is potentially on the horizon. When they tour the American South and West Coast this spring, I'm willing to bet "Smart" is on the setlist.
Follow Girl In a Coma on Instagram here and check out tour dates here.
Hilary Duff was my first favorite artist. For my 7th birthday, I received two gifts that would change my life forever: a large Sony CD player & stereo system (specifically, this one), and Hilary Duff's proper debut studio album, Metamorphosis. While I would occasionally switch over to AM radio and tune in to Radio Disney or listen to Boston's finest grumble angrily about the Red Sox, 90% of the time I had Metamorphosis locked and loaded, blasting for all of Main Street to hear. I spent hours upon hours singing along as I flipped through the lyric booklet, learning every word; I performed "So Yesterday" at my school assembly, attempting to recruit every girl in my class to join me and help alleviate my stage fright. For the first time, I had an easy go-to answer of who my favorite singer was. When I saw Hilary at my first ever concert a year later, I was forever changed. While I thought at the time I had a crush (LOL), I now with the powers of hindsight and homosexuality know I was a full-blown stan.
I specify that Hilary was my first favorite artist because, unfortunately, she has not been my only one. I equally loved her jagged 2004 self-titled record, and made the case to my mom that 2005's Most Wanted compilation was a worthwhile purchase, even though I already owned three-quarters of its track list elsewhere. But as I aged, I felt more pressure from peers to leave behind the fun, Disney-centric, and frankly "girly" sounds that Duff embodied. By the time 2007 rolled around, I skipped Dignity entirely, as I had traded in my pop diva love for another gift-driven musical obsession: the Guitar Hero III soundtrack. The gigabytes I owned on my mom's iPod Nano per our shared custody agreement were now dedicated to the likes of Weezer, Rise Against, and Red Hot Chili Peppers. Soon after, I picked up playing drums and entered the angsty hormonal throes of puberty. Rock had fully taken over.
At the same time, I was beginning to question my sexuality and who I was; in an ill-fated effort to outrun the inevitable, I distanced myself further from anything at all that I thought could mark me as gay. Not only was I not listening to Hilary Duff anymore, I was too embarrassed to admit I had ever been a fan. I thought if I just listened to more and more hard rock and leaned further into masculinity (or, rather, what a teen at an all-boys school in the early 2010s thought masculinity was supposed to be), I could shake these thoughts and feelings, and just go back to feeling... normal.
Of course, that didn't happen (thank GOD, could you imagine??), and as I came to finally accept myself I eventually opened myself back up to pop music. When I graduated high school and went to an extremely queer-friendly college starting in 2015, the floodgates opened: I embraced the likes Ariana and Beyonce, knelt at the altars of Gaga and Charli, and even ended up writing my undergraduate thesis on Carly Rae Jepsen. Still, for some reason, Hilary Duff didn't quite made it back into the fold yet other than the occasional nostalgia trip - perhaps the lingering music snob in me didn't see the value in returning to my Disney-approved roots.
Well, thankfully, I eventually beat the crap out of that lingering snob and kicked him to the curb, realizing how stupid it is to shy away from any music that brings you joy. A few years ago I finally dove back into Hilary's music, revisiting the classics and discovering gems for the first time on Dignity and 2015's Breathe In. Breathe Out. Still, by then Hilary had mostly moved away from music, instead spending her time acting in main television roles on Younger and How I Met Your Father, while also raising four children.
So late last year when Hilary announced a forthcoming album, lead single "Mature," and her first batch of live shows since 2008, I was all-in. What I was surprised to find out, however, was how many others were also all in. I hadn't realized that after all this time, Hilary Duff had maintained a strong cult following, mostly made up of queer men around my age. The "gay icon" status can be a bit elusive - go ask Bebe Rexha or Rita Ora how it's working out for them - but Hilary Duff has certainly attained that status.
Of course, it makes a lot of sense when you think about it. Most obviously, her legendary 2008 PSA for the Think Before You Speak campaign had her take a stand against homophobia (and, maybe more importantly, against girls wearing a skirt as a top). This was a bold statement for anyone to make in that era, given the overwhelmingly common use of "gay" as a synonym for "bad" in American culture at the time, but particularly for someone who came from the Disney pipeline. It's an enduring part of Duff's legacy and a signature moment of the era's fight for LGBTQ+ rights, and the queer community has always appreciated it. We love her to this day because she was there for us in the beginning.
That said, I think Hilary's specific appeal to gay men goes well beyond the PSA. Musically and personality-wise, Duff has always had a warmth and softness to her, mixed with a dash of spunk and sass. A lot of her songs could be interpreted through a queer subtextual lens: "Metamorphosis" about the process of changing and realizing something about yourself; "Why Not" about taking a risk such as coming out of the closet; "Come Clean" about... well, you can fill in the blanks there. "Fly" even literally has the lyric, "open up the part of you that wants to hide away," which I wouldn't even call subtextual. Moreover, us gays LOVE a bit of camp, and the fact that Hilary isn't the world's most naturally gifted vocalist plays into that perfectly.
I think there's also a larger cultural/contextual reason why Hilary is so important to so many queer men - particularly those who grew up in religious households. In the early 2000s, especially in the aftermath of 9/11 and the moral panics that swept across America in its wake, there was a lot of pushback to any pop culture artifacts that were deemed too sexy and/or not patriotic enough. You may have known kids growing up who weren't allowed to watch SpongeBob; in that same vein, many households banned a wide range of the day's pop stars. For kids in households that weren't allowed access to Britney or Xtina or Avril, there weren't a ton of options. But the clean-cut, Disney-approved, Texas-raised Hilary Duff was usually an exception, a safe option for parents who wouldn't have to worry about her repeating the Janet Jackson Super Bowl Halftime Show disaster. (I should note here that while my parents were by no means keeping secular music out of the household, my church certainly was certainly encouraging it, and that sense of guilt imprinted on me and steered me away from many of that era's biggest names.) For little millennial gay boys like myself who were desperate for an outlet for their still-developing inner diva, Hilary was a godsend.
I've learned that I'm not the only one whose first favorite artist was Ms. Duff - in fact, judging by the outlandish ticket queues for her first run of four shows, it seems practically every gay guy aged 28-35 feels the same way as I do. While I did not manage to get tickets to any of those concerts (check out my friend Blake's vlog of her London show, and throw him a follow while you're at it), luck... or something quickly became my most-anticipated album release of 2026. With the album now finally out, and my over-the-top preamble finished at long last, I'm excited to say that luck... or something has met and even exceeded my hopes for what a new Hilary Duff album would sound like.
Things got off to a promising start with lead single "Mature," an appropriately-titled comeback song that sits comfortably within Hilary's wheelhouse while still showing this is a new evolution. It's a cheeky, biting track targeted at an ex (likely either Joel Madden or Jason Walsh) who she witnesses using the same manipulation tactics on his new "younger" and "blonder" love interest that he used on Hilary. While the narrative is aimed at Hilary's ex, "Mature" actually feels like Duff's desperate attempt to warn this new girl to not fall into the same trap. Reverberant drums and a perky bass line combine for a playful energy that helps keep the song light without evacuating its emotional impact.
While "Mature" was impressive, second single "Roommates" is where it became clear that luck... or something would be a contender for Hilary's best album yet. Propelled by a muffled drum beat, Duff dives right in, mourning the loss of intimacy in her relationship. "Physical affection goes a long way with me / I don't wanna quietly resent you / I just want the easy fix," she sings in the first verse. The vocals are delivered fast - dare I say bordering on rapping - and have a bitter aftertaste; Hilary knows she isn't the issue here. The chorus amps things up to another level - I'm pretty sure everyone else gasped with glee when I did when they first heard the lines "Back of the dive bar / Giving you head" and "I'm touching myself looking at porn." We've never seen Hilary this sex-forward, and it was a clear indicator that this was indeed a new Hilary.
This newer adult lens is baked into the entirety of luck... or something. At the surface level, a number of songs explicitly mention sex, with it being the central topic of "Holiday Party" and of course "Roommates." Hilary says "fuck" and "shit" a bunch, and she references various liquors by name. Digging deeper emotionally, we have songs like "Weather for Tennis" that details conflict resolution and trying to be the bigger person, while Duff exposes her anxieties for the world ahead in both "Future Tripping" and "Tell Me That Won't Happen." There's also, of course, the very literal "Growing Up."
One newer and less positive development in Duff's life since her last record is her strained relationship with older sister and former collaborator Haylie. In a recent interview, Hilary described not having her sister in her life anymore as "the most lonely part of [her] existence." "We Don't Talk" is a devastating confessional, perhaps the most emotionally vulnerable song in Duff's entire discography. The song laments how they "come from the same home, the same blood" and how Hilary never knows how to answer questions about Haylie because they simply aren't in contact. On the bridge, Hilary lays things even more bare: "Let's have it out / I'll hear you out / You'll hear me out on the couch / Get back to how we were as kids." Fittingly, the chorus' musical backing is heavily reminiscent of Gotye's "Somebody That I Used to Know" (though I can't find a songwriting credit as of publishing). Despite being the shortest song on the record, it may be the most resonant.
The musical inspirations for luck... or something are abundant and identifiable, but still spun to be uniquely Hilary. "The Optimist" could slide into the track list of Kacey Musgrave's Deeper Well. Carly Rae Jepsen's cutesy, finely-tuned pop sound seems to be an overarching influence, most noticeable on "Holiday Party" and "Mature." There's also an alt-rock undercurrent that pops its head out on occasion: "You, From The Honeymoon" reminds me of Japanese Breakfast's latest album, while "Weather for Tennis" and particularly "Tell Me That Won't Happen" lean on some The 1975-sounding guitar licks. Most direct is "Growing Up," which is practically a cover of Blink-182's "Dammit." There are even several name-drops that unveil a more hipster-chic perspective, from indie faves Bon Iver and The Japanese House to the legendary artist Jean-Michel Basquiat.
The songwriting across the board is excellent. The personal connection between Duff and co-writer and husband Matthew Koma is palpable; these songs are hand-crafted, personal, and not rushed. There's certainly a formula here - every track is approximately 3-4 minutes long and pretty much follows the traditional verse-chorus-bridge structure - but for a lyric-focused pop record, that's exactly what you're looking for. The production is warm and contemporary, a stable sound with only the occasional flourish, aligning with the fairly melancholic nature of the album. Frequent collaborator Kara DioGuardi's presence is missed, but given how personal the album is, it's understandable why Duff and Koma mostly kept things in-house.
The album's final shining moment comes, fittingly, on its closer, "Adult Size Medium." While most songs on luck... or something are very tight, "Adult Size Medium" is a wide-open, cinematic track that is destined to be a crowd pleaser on tour. Built around a sky-scraping riff that's a potential nod to/level-up of the one from Dignity's "Dreamer" (or, perhaps, Ellie Goulding's "Anything Could Happen"), the track swells over the horizon as Hilary takes stock of everything that's brought her to this moment. "Was any of it worth it after all?" she wonders, adding, "Is my reflection someone else's story?" It then makes the brilliant decision to close out the entire album with the title as the final lyric: "I remember it all and I remember nothing / How did we get here? / Was it luck or something?" It's contemplative and unsure, and one of the few examples in pop music of a song that focuses on the downsides of stardom and makes those feelings relatable.
luck... or something works so well as an album not only because the songs themselves are great, but because it's an album that is reflective of both its creator and audience. It's an album about looking back and looking ahead, about aging, about figuring out relationships and the future and where you fit into this crazy world. Hilary Duff isn't 15 any more, and neither are her fans. luck... or something leans into that, eschewing the temptation for pure nostalgia-bait and instead introducing us to a new stage of Duff's life and career.
More than twenty years have gone by since I got that Sony stereo system and heard Metamorphosis for the first time. Since then, I have obviously expanded my horizons into artists and genres that no seven year old will have ever heard of - hell, I literally have a blog about that! I've shunned pop music before drifting back, I've seen probably over a hundred different bands perform live, and haven't even owned a CD player in at least a decade. But to me, Hilary Duff will always be where it all really started, and will always be home. So for her to return in our big year of 2026 with such an incredibly solid comeback record, one that shows she knows exactly who her fanbase is and always has been, one that is authentically Hilary Duff - well, that's just special. And when I see her show on tour this coming August, I have a feeling I'll be forever changed once again.
Hilary Duff's long-awaited comeback album, luck... or something, comes out this Friday. It's her first since 2015 and only her second since her more active run in the 2000s. Duff is a massively important and formative artist to me and many others (more on that in my forthcoming luck... or something review), and in the lead-up to the album's release I wanted to list off my ten favorite tracks from the former Disney idol.
10. Beat of My Heart
The beat of her heart is also the beat of the song... I mean, what else do you need?? In all seriousness, "Beat of My Heart" is the rare example of a greatest hits exclusive single that actually bangs. Its found on the 2005 compilation Most Wanted, and combines the brighter textures of Metamorphosis with the more rock-heavy sound of her self-titled record - particularly on the punchy bridge. "Beat of My Heart" would fit right in alongside some of the indie-chic artists of the time like Tegan & Sara or Metric, and you can bet your ass I'm shouting along in my Sentra every time the chorus rolls back around.
9. Metamorphosis
I am a sucker for a good title track, especially when it's the title track to the first favorite album I ever had. "Metamorphosis" is a spunky, grimier take on Duff's pop-rock sound, with phenomenal percussion and a slight industrial hue. Mix in the verse's sassy acoustic guitar riff and you have a surefire smash.
8. Why Not
Speaking of metamorphosis, "Why Not" is a track that's gone through different evolutions across Duff's discography. Originally recorded and released for 2003's The Lizzie McGuire Movie, a slightly tweaked version was tacked onto the end of Metamorphosis that same year, before once again being remixed for the 2005 Most Wanted compilation. I'm partial to the version on Metamorphosis, not only for familiarity's sake but also because it's a necessary pick-up to finish off the record after the ballad "Inner Strength." Regardless, you can see why they kept bringing it back, as "Why Not" is a sunny pop-rock romp with a remarkably playful chorus. It also makes the brilliant decision to squeeze in another hook with the post-chorus, further solidifying it as one of Hilary's true classics.
7. Stranger
"Stranger" kicks off Hilary's third album proper, Dignity, and right off the bat lets you know that this era is gonna be a little different. We've graduated from Avril Lavigne to Blackout-era Britney (which, funnily enough, Dignity actually predates by half a year), from the bedroom to the nightclub. The first of four collaborations with legendary songwriter Kara DioGuardi to appear on this list, "Stranger" boasts a sleazy electropop beat with crunchy guitars and noticeably draws from Middle Eastern music. The doubled vocals stand out and add an emotional depth. It's Duff at her most nocturnal, and also her most bitter, with the song directed at ex-boyfriend and Good Charlotte frontman Joel Madden. Brunette Hilary never sounded better.
6. Shine
"Everyone knoooows, that I'm ten feet under." "Shine" starts with Duff crooning over a loungy 70's electric piano before bursting into a soft rock jam, building tension as it goes. A male backing vocal makes you feel like Duff is a bandleader here. Where "Shine," well, shines(!), is the post-chorus introduced at the very end: Hilary pushes her voice to new limits as everything opens up. The self-titled record is more about rocking out that Metamorphosis was, and "Shine" highlights that perfectly. (In my opinion it would be a better album closer than "The Last Song," but I digress.)
5. Wake Up
Did 2005 Michael know where Hollywood & Vine was? Not really. But did that matter? No, because all I needed to know was that Hilary Duff wanted to hang out there. "Wake Up" doubles as a delectable pop song and the ideal morning alarm. Duff tours the world and creates the party wherever she goes - though the verses hint at the trappings of fame getting in her head. The Marc Webb-directed music video gives us a look into an alternate universe where Hilary was cast as the lead in Orphan Black. (Also, Hilary said that she wanted to work with Webb because she likes the bands he had directed for in the past... does this mean she was rocking out to My Chemical Romance and P.O.D.? Because God I hope so.)
4. Roommates
While "Mature" is a perfectly serviceable lead single for luck... or something, it was "Roommates" that convinced me this project would be more than just a nostalgia trip. The lyrics are strikingly adult and personal; never did I expect to hear Lizzie McGuire sing about porn or giving head at a dive bar! These lines aren't there just for shock value, either, as "Roommates" laments the evacuation of intimacy that can happen in a long-term relationship. (Duff's husband, Matthew Koma, is a co-writer, so make of that what you will.) All of this is sung over a gliding beat that might as well be plucked from the better half of Jack Antonoff's producer credits. "Roommates" is Duff's stake in the ground moment, showing she's grown up just like her audience has.
3. Fly
Hilary Duff's self-titled album marked the Michelle Branch-ification of her sound, and I mean that in the best way; indeed, "Fly" cowriter John Shanks worked with Branch. ("Everywhere" you will always be famous!) "Fly" opens the record up with one of the record's most extreme points, as a near-gothic combination of piano and processed drums suggests the likes of Evanescence, while the soaring chorus recalls the best of Goo Goo Dolls' power-pop heyday. The song carries an inspirational self-help message that worked WONDERS on me back in the second grade, and features both clever callbacks ("Let go of your yesterday") and previews for the rest of the album ("You can shine"). I remember this being my favorite part of the setlist when I saw her at the then-titled Worcester's Centrum Center in 2004. (Let's pray I get to see her again this summer!) To this day it's a special memory and my favorite rock-out moment of Hilary's career.
2. So Yesterday
Somewhere deep in the archives (AKA my parents' attic), there exists a home video of me singing this song as a first grader to my entire elementary school. (It remains my sole public vocal performance, to the mercy of everyone around me.) From a young age I knew "So Yesterday" was special; no seven year old should be riddled with anxiety, and yet this song's message of moving past and looking ahead resonated deeply. The breezy instrumental fits the theme, as does Hilary's relaxed vocal. And no matter how hard they try, I will never not love "If the light is off, then it isn't on." Sometimes, the simplest lyric can secretly hold the deepest meaning.
Honorable Mentions:
Before I reveal my #1 choice, some quick notes about the songs that agonizingly did not make the cut.
Mr. James Dean - Hilary sounds pissed here, and I love it! There's something special in those guitar tones too; there are moments here where it almost sounds like a post-hardcore song. Bonus points for the guitar solo & coda.
Sweet Sixteen - Sold me a dream as a child that I never quite let go of; now that's magic!
Sparks - The big hit of her first comeback. Catchy and introduces her more mature lyrical themes ("Skin to skin, we get it on"), but held back in retrospect by the whistle riff, one of the musical trends better left to the early 2010s.
My Kind - Another Breathe In. Breathe Out. track that sounds very of its time, but in a positive way. The bouncy tropical house beat serves Hilary's voice well, and it features maybe the album's best hook.
What Dreams are Made Of - The hardest cut of the the bunch. Iconic for all the right reasons. Only missed the top 10 because I never actually had it on CD and don't have quite the same attachment to it as I do for "Beat of My Heart."
And with that, we finish the list with...
1. Come Clean
It may be the obvious choice, but there's a reason for that! I couldn't not go with Hilary Duff's most-streamed, signature hit song that also happens to be my very favorite. Every element of this song is iconic: the meditative acoustic guitar; the near-eerie keyboards; the stuttering effects added to the vocals. The lyrics are frankly epic in scale - "Let's go back / back to the beginning / Back to when the Earth, the Sun, the stars all aligned" is quite an opening couplet. The chorus is pure bliss, the quintessential example of Duff's propensity for springing to life out of a more muted verse. Written by the same duo of DioGuardi and Shanks as "Fly," and with an accompanying video from the legendary Dave Meyers, "Come Clean" calls in the cavalry - and the result is one of the finest pop songs of a generation. Even in my angsty teenage phase, where I was doing all I could to seem straight and macho and tried to avoid pop music as best I could, "Come Clean" never left the rotation. For that, I'll always be grateful.
Sparklehorse's "Cow" is a shining moment on 1995's classic Vivadixiesubmarinetransmissionplot. The album was recorded with the band Cracker, who at the time were bearing the torch of what southern rock sounded like in the post-Nevermind era. "Cow" is the moment where David Lowery's involvement fully crystallizes. Languid in pace, the song lays with its arms outstretched in a grassy field; guitars crackle in the sun as an accordion wheezes on. (Frankly it might be a harmonica, I can't find confirmation one way or the other.)
Linkous' whispered delivery makes oddities sound somehow mundane - sparkling drumsets, lighting cigars on electric chairs, snakes eating their own tails. The specific absurd absurdities are selected for their percussive and rhythmic natures rather than any individual meaning; however, by combining altogether, Linkous renders this strange world as maybe not so strange.
The world must have seemed strange to Linkous; life had put him through the gauntlet. "Cow" underlines this, but offers a glimmer of hope: once Linkous reaches the refrain, his voice opens up for the first time. It comes with the most ordinary lyric in the song: "pretty girl, milking a cow." The guitars explode into life, taking over the second half of the song. Still, given Linkous' fate, "Cow" spins an ultimately tragic tale - one that doesn't necessarily rip open any wounds, but it might slowly undo the stitches.
RIP Mark Linkous. I hope you have found whatever you couldn't find here.
Deerhunter's Halcyon Digest is one of the most celebrated indie records of the early 2010s, and often considered the creative peak of the band. If you have only a cursory knowledge of the album, you most likely would be familiar with one of its more popular tracks - perhaps the short-and-strummy "Revival," the psychedelic swirl of "Desire Lines," or the tributary closer "He Would Have Laughed." However, when Deerhunter performed on Late Show with David Letterman in February of 2011, none of these songs were featured. Instead, the band opted to perform their upcoming single, "Memory Boy," which was set for a Record Store Day release that coming April and would be the second off of Halcyon Digest. The end result was glorious.
The first thing you'll notice is that this is a very old YouTube upload - in fact, it was uploaded on February 24th of 2011, just two days after the band's performance. The video and audio are both compressed, and the clip doesn't come close to filling the screen properly. (There's a re-upload of higher quality, but this is the "classic" version that most are familiar with; plus, there's a certain charm that comes with experiencing the video as it was uploaded within its era.) After a brief intro from Paul Shaffer's house band and Letterman, the band launches straight in.
Boosted by friends from the Atlanta scene - Cole Alexander of the Black Lips on guitar and Adam Bruneau of The Back Pockets on keys and xylophone - its quickly clear that this version of "Memory Boy" is a beefed-up edition. The studio version of "Memory Boy" is a fuzzed-out, power-pop ditty clocking in at just over two minutes: two verses, two choruses, a bridge, and then a quick outro before making way for "Desire Lines." Here, Bruneau - donning dark sunglasses and a vampiric cape - has snatched the main guitar riff for his keyboard. In doing so, he transforms it from plucky to anthemic, somehow sounding like both a carnival ride and a church organ. Frontperson Bradford Cox croons through the song as usual, with both the demeanor and fashion sense of an eccentric poetry professor from the 1970s.
Then, two minutes in, at just the point where the studio version exits with the looping final riff, "Memory Boy" takes off. Swathed in alternating blue and yellow floodlights, the band adds an entirely new coda that nearly doubles the song's runtime. Lead by the ever-steady hand of drummer Moses Archuleta, every instrument locks into a groove that builds in intensity for the next minute. Lockett Pundt introduces a brand new guitar riff. Cox produces a tambourine seemingly out of nowhere.
Suddenly, everybody drops out. Cox tosses the tambourine aside, the lights steady. Bassist Joshua Fauver (R.I.P.) spins around from his typical back-of-stage position and faces the audience. The camera locks in on Bruneau as he returns to solo with the main riff, kicking off the celebratory new ending. Cox picks the mic back up as the rest of the band explodes back into life. (To this day I can't quite make out what he's singing - perhaps "take home" or "day gone" - but lyrics aren't typically the focus of Deerhunter's music anyway). Once they're done, Paul Shaffer chimes in that he "had an acid flashback."
Fifteen years on, "Memory Boy" is still somewhat of a footnote in Deerhunter's history. Not that either of these are the end-all-be-all of measuring a song's impact, but it has about a tenth the amount of streams as the album's hits do, and it's in the lower half on the album by track rating on Rate Your Music. But thanks to this Letterman performance, and the evolution the song took in a live setting, it remains one of my absolute favorites.
This weekend, I made my first return to Brown University's campus since graduating for my five-year reunion. Reunions are funny in that they are in a way a reversal of college itself: college is all about looking ahead and building a path to the future you see for yourself, but reunions are for catching up on where adulthood has taken everybody and reminiscing on years gone by. While revisiting old haunts like the Blue Room and Thayer Street and, of course, WBRU, I was flooded with memories not only of friends, but of the music that accompanied my final years in academia. This, combined with the reminder (and shame) provided by my visit that I haven't written in quite a while, has spurred me to whip up a list of the ten albums that most prominently defined my college experience. These aren't necessarily the ten albums I enjoyed most during my time at Brown - though they're all fantastic in my book - but rather the ones that I most associate with that time, ones that connect deeply with where I was at those points in my life. I would also love to see your own lists, so please feel free to share which albums tell your college stories too.
10. Girlpool - Powerplant (2017)
Girlpool were an underrated indie rock mainstay throughout my college years. Their breakout debut record, Before the World Was Big, came out in June 2015, just a few months before I arrived in Providence for first-year orientation. Their third record, the denser What Chaos Is Imaginary, similarly dropped just months before my May 2019 graduation. However, it's actually their second record, 2017's Powerplant, that I've chosen here. A fitting midpoint, Powerplant features the DIY aesthetic and charming harmonies of Girlpool's first record while hinting at the darker, shoegaze-tinged sounds that would become prominent later in their career. The somber, muted "It Gets More Blue" is contrasted by the youthful opener "123" and the punchy, XO-era Elliott Smith-flavored title track. Powerplant simply feels like college record, raw and free and wondering where in the world it'll end up.
Girlpool released one final record, 2022's largely overlooked and somewhat underwhelming Forgiveness, before breaking up that same year. Girlpool's heyday almost perfectly aligns with when I was at Brown, and that helps make them one of the quintessential bands of that time in my life.
9. Jamie xx - In Colour (2015)
It seems every college campus has a few universal party anthems that pop up no matter the host or occasion. For me, the first that comes to mind outside of the extremely obvious - talking about you, "Mr. Brightside" - is "I Know There's Gonna Be (Good Times)," from Young Thug, Popcaan, and indie-popper-turned-rave-leader Jamie xx. The fourth single from xx's debut solo album In Colour, "Good Times" is a brightly-lit club romp, combining bouncing percussion and a Persuasions-sampling chorus with Young Thug's remarkably explicit and infinitely addictive verses. It's jubilant atmosphere, along with its reputation as a critic-approved banger, made it a popular choice in crowded dorm rooms across College Hill.
In Colour's impact on my college years isn't limited to its most explosive track, either. If "Good Times" was the middle of the dance-floor, the Romy-assisted "Loud Places" was the quiet corner of the room that let me know it was OK to not feel at home at every party. "Gosh" is a slow-building epic that kicks off the whole record, while "Sleep Sound" and "SeeSaw" are its jittery neighbors; all three were cornerstones of my study playlists. Plus, as someone who mainly listened to capital-R Rock music in high school, In Colour was the first electronic record I truly loved, and opened the door to many other artists I discovered in its wake.
8. Jay Som - Everybody Works (2017)
"Try to make ends meet / Penny pinch til I'm dying / Everybody works." So reads the chorus to the title track of Jay Som's sophomore studio album. Released when she was 23 years old, it makes sense that Jay Som's lyrics on Everybody Works would reflect the concerns of young adults stepping out into the world at that time. Even at a prestigious university like Brown, which (for better or worse) draws added attention when mentioned on a resume or job application, students are anxious about finding a career that can support them financially without completely draining their passions and happiness. Coming from a middle-class family and having a skillset - writing - that didn't provide a clear path to lucrative employment, these worries certainly applied to me, which I think is why Everybody Works resonates still to this day.
Also, much like Powerplant, Everybody Works is filled with the type of music that just hits best when you're in college. It's full-on coffeeshop-core, with perky indie rock gems like "Baybee" and 'The Bus Song," along with more introspective numbers like the drawn-out closer "For Light." It sounds like leather-bound notebooks and meal credits and university-branded sweatshirts. I played this one pretty much nonstop during my late sophomore and early junior years, and putting it on now brings me right back to those days.
7. Grimes - Art Angels (2015)
Before diving completely off the deep end into her correlating obsessions with AI and Elon Musk, Grimes put out Art Angels, her innovative magnum opus that seemed to foretell a future of weirdo art-pop crossing into the mainstream. It's an electric and eccentric record, marked by highlights covering ground all the way from a friendship falling apart ("Flesh Without Blood") to deforestation ("Butterfly") to Al Pacino as a genderfluid time-traveling vampire ("Kill V. Maim"), drawing from elements of pop-punk, hyperpop, and heavy metal.
Released just two months into my college experience, Art Angels was a staple well beyond my freshman year. It also resulted in what was probably my favorite review I ever wrote for our on-campus music magazine, BSIDE. It's also easy to forget that at the time, Grimes seemed to be perhaps the most exciting and creative force in music, so hearing this record felt like seeing the start of a major shift in the pop culture landscape. While Grimes has undeniably fallen away from that reputation over the past decade, Art Angels remains unassailable.
6. Kendrick Lamar - DAMN. (2017)
According to my Last.fm statistics, this is my most-played album of all time, and by a wide margin. Over half of those plays came in its initial release year, 2017, which tracks well with my memories of spinning it daily throughout the final few weeks of my sophomore year. DAMN. was perhaps my most highly-anticipated record, coming off the back of 2015's masterpiece To Pimp a Butterfly and 2016's compelling Untitled Unmastered. TPAB was the last "big" album of my high school days, and remains my all-time favorite record. Untitled Unmastered and some of Kendrick's other 2016 appearances - particularly his spot on Danny Brown's "Really Doe," Travis Scott's "Goosebumps," and Beyoncé's "Freedom," along with another I'll mention further down this list - only served to whet my appetite for a proper follow-up to TPAB.
DAMN. did not disappoint - leaner and more commercial than TPAB, but still chock full of incredible moments from somebody who was clearly positioning himself as the greatest rapper alive. The beat switch in "DNA." is still probably the best I've ever heard. "YAH." and "PRIDE." stumble along with an effortless charisma, while "FEAR." rides a beat from living legend and personal favorite producer The Alchemist for nearly eight fantastic minutes. Meanwhile, tracks like "ELEMENT." and especially "HUMBLE." made their way into party playlists across campus.
DAMN. doesn't have a particularly emotional or specific connection to my time at Brown, other than being a really excellent album that I listened to more than anything else in my four years there. Sometimes, that's all you need.
5. DIIV - Is the Is Are (2016)
Another one of my all-timers, DIIV's 2016 record Is the Is Are caught me completely off guard. I had liked a few of DIIV's early songs, but had been a much bigger fan of singer Zachary Cole Smith's then-girlfriend, alt-pop starlet Sky Ferreira. This album came out under a haze of rumors about Smith's drug addiction and trips to rehab, along with rumors that the band was on the verge of breaking up. That haze carried over into Is the Is Are's songs, beachy indie rock jams awash in feedback and reverb. From the first listen, this record grabbed me and wouldn't let go. Upbeat earworms like "Out of Mind" and "Loose Ends" were counterbalanced by harrowing dirges like "Mire (Grant's Song)" and closing track "Waste of Breath." Songs like "Dopamine" featured elements of both, combining sunny layers of chiming guitar riffs with bleak lyrics tackling Smith's addiction head-on; "Got so high I finally felt like myself" and "Would you give your 34th year / for a glimpse of heaven now and here" punched you right in the gut.
Upon repeat listens, the cyclical nature of Is the Is Are revealed itself, and in doing so helped me better understand my own struggles with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, which I had been formally diagnosed with shortly before finishing high school. While I couldn't relate to the specific experiences Smith was writing about, the themes of being trapped in your own head and trying mightily to resist intrusive thoughts certainly landed. Being in an academic environment where the topic mental health is at the forefront, I was able to better recognize and adjust to my own negative patterns, much like Smith was attempting to do with Is the Is Are.
Today, DIIV are still together and have released two more excellent albums. Smith by all accounts has remained sober for several years, and I am better equipped than ever to handle my OCD. I'd like to think Is the Is Are played a big role in both of our happy endings.
4. CHVRCHES - Every Open Eye (2015)
So far on this list, I've tried to explain how these albums might have characteristics that appeal to college students at-large, justifying their inclusion. With Every Open Eye, however, it's a more explicitly personal connection. Two weeks after its September 2015 release, I was gifted this album on vinyl for my 19th birthday by new friends I had just met upon starting school. It was a special moment for me, one that let me know that these new friendships were the real deal, and would last beyond our four years on campus together.
On top of that deeper meaning, Every Open Eye is one of the finest synthpop records this side of 2000. The entire album twinkles around Lauren Mayberry's sugar vocals. "Clearest Blue" is the best recreation of a Depeche Mode smash hit since, well, Depeche Mode, while the choruses to songs like "Empty Threat" and "Bury It" will run through your brain for days. Though many prefer this Scottish trio's debut record Bones of What You Believe, Every Open Eye has an intensity and focus that results in, to me, a more streamlined and consistent listen. It's a deeply sentimental album personally, but a fun and energizing collection of music globally.
3. Kanye West - The Life of Pablo (2016)
Kanye West is obviously an extremely controversial figure who has said and done many horrible things. In fact, I personally have not listened to this Kanye record or any other one in several years - the stink of his rampant misogyny, anti-semitism, and Trumpism lingers too heavily to not be a distraction.
That being said, I can't accurately reflect on the music that defined my college years without mentioning West's 2016 album The Life of Pablo. Its semi-surprise, Tidal-exclusive release on Valentine's Day came right in the middle of my freshman year, and was by my estimate the ultimate peak of the internet-hype album drop craziness at that point. (Lemonade would quickly claim that title two months later.) I so distinctly remember sitting in my freshman dorm room and watching West's performance on Saturday Night Live, only for him to cry out at the end of "Ultralight Beam" something about "KanyeWest.com" and "album streaming right now." Surrounded by my four white cinderblock walls, I, like many others, scrambled to figure out what the hell was going on and how to sign up for a free Tidal subscription before their whole website crashed.
Once we got our hands on The Life of Pablo, the excitement only grew. A surprise feature from the reclusive pre-Blonde Frank Ocean ("Frank's Track")and starring cameos from ascendant stars like Kendrick Lamar ("No More Parties in L.A.") and Chance the Rapper ("Ultralight Beam") meant the high highs outweighed the lower lows ("Lowlights," "Freestyle 4"). Then, things got murkier. West constantly tinkered with and updated the streaming release of The Life of Pablo, adding and removing elements on what felt like a daily basis. Some songs were decidedly improved, while other changes felt more pointless.
All of this, however, makes The Life Of Pablo a quintessential album of its time, and of my time in college. The surprise release, the internet discourse around it, its role in the history of Tidal and streaming platforms, the post-release adjustments - all of it was so remarkably 2016. In a year that would end in one of the most shocking elections in American history, The Life of Pablo barely registers a blip on the radar when looking back. But for those first few months, Kanye West was all anybody could talk about.
2. Japanese Breakfast - Psychopomp (2016)
Content warning for discussion of grief and death.
Michelle Zauner may be an indie headliner with a successful memoir and corresponding film on the way nowadays, but that wasn't always the case. Before having her full-fledged breakout via her 2020 album Jubilee and 2021 book Crying in H Mart, Zauner had already put out several records under the Japanese Breakfast moniker, one of which was 2016's Psychopomp. I discovered this album one afternoon in one of Brown's various libraries, camped out in a nook procrastinating on an essay that needed to get done. Centered around the passing of her mother two years prior, Psychopomp explores a wide range of emotions through 25 minutes of indie-pop perfection. The mournful lyrics of "In Heaven" are smothered in blissful synthesizers; "Heft" mentions "spending nights by hospital beds" over a cheerily-strummed guitar riff. The album also looks at relationships, with "Everybody Wants to Love You" and "Jane Cum" each use wildly contrasting instrumental moods to pair with lyrics examining sexuality.
When I first heard Psychopomp, the elements of grieving landed with me only in an abstract, outside-looking-in kind of way. I had been very fortunate in that, at that point in my life, I had not had to confront death very often. I had lost a few family members, including my grandmother, but all had lived long, fulfilling, happy lives, so their losses felt like sad but expected goodbyes - I had closure and was able to process everything as it was happening.
Then, over the summer between my sophomore and junior years, a good friend of mine from Brown passed away. I found out through a campus-wide email from a college dean and was devastated, as were many of my friends. As I worked my way through a new kind of grieving process, one where I was isolated from my college community (as we hadn't yet returned for the fall semester) and had more questions than answers, Psychopomp was a sympathetic comfort listen. It's full emotional impact suddenly came into focus, and I felt understood by its multifaceted take on tragedy. When the loss of a loved one is steeped in confusion, it's natural to seek out something that can make sense of it all - for me, that was Psychopomp.
Of course, even seven years later, Psychopomp still reminds me of the sadness of my friend's passing. However, it also reminds me of my happy memories of them - of why I cared so deeply in the first place. Grief is preambled by love, and that's the statement Psychopomp is making, and for a very specific and impactful moment in my life, it was the message I needed to hear.
1. Carly Rae Jepsen - Emotion (2015)
I mean, are you really surprised? It was my damn thesis.
Anyone who knew me in college probably knows how much I care about Carly Rae Jepsen's internet-breaking, enigmatically underrated 2015 record Emotion. I, like so many other others who write about music, have plenty to say about this album - so much so, in fact, that I made it the subject of my senior thesis and thus the longest and most labor-intensive writing project I've ever done. I wrote about its release strategy, its collection of high-quality 80's-influenced pop bops, its status as a cult classic amongst people who would hardly call themselves fans of the genre. I could go on and on (and did) about the majesty of "Run Away From Me," the playfulness of "Boy Problems," and the sultry smoothness of "All That," but I've been there, done that. If you're really interested in going down that route, you can check out a copy of my thesis from the Brown University Library System, where it lives alongside all other English undergraduate theses - provided you have a university login that grants you access, which I ironically do not. (Or, you could just email me, and I'd be happy to send you a link to Google Drive.)
Instead, I want to focus this post on Emotion's personal impact on my college days and the overall trajectory of my life. (Dramatic, I know, but bear with me here.)
Like I said earlier, in high school I was pretty much a rock-only listener. I was also deeply closeted. Those two facts might seem separate - and at the time I thought they were - but looking back I can now see that my penchant for heavier music and avoidance of anything pop was tied to a fear of being perceived as feminine in any way. I couldn't possibly risk tipping off the other students in my close-knit, all-boys school that I was all that different than everybody else, let alone the (presumably) only gay person in the entire class. So I buried myself. I squashed any personality trait, consciously and subconsciously, that I thought would be perceived as gay. I devoted myself to Foo Fighters and Rise Against and Red Hot Chili Peppers - all bands I still enjoy, it should be said - and guilted myself out of listening to the likes of Lady Gaga, reacting with immediate revulsion to pop sensibilities. If you need proof, look at this very blog's Album of the Year 2013 posts, where the closest I get to full-on poptimistic are the blog-approved HAIM and Lorde albums sitting at #11 and #12 respectively.
College was supposed to be different - and in the end, it was, though it took longer to get there than I realized. I went into Brown planning on being "out" from day one. But, as any number of queer people can attest to, there are stages to coming out. For me, having people know I was gay was the first step, but allowing myself to be gay - in other words, to express myself how I wanted and not how I felt I needed to in order to create a specific external image - was much harder. I even joked to people that I was "the straightest gay guy you'll ever meet." While at Brown I didn't feel the need to instinctively pull away from "gay" music, I also wasn't actively seeking it out; I had been so deep in the closet that I didn't even realize I had shut out an entire world of music, and that door hadn't magically opened the day I stepped onto campus and opened the closet up.
Even when Emotion was getting tons of blog buzz in 2015, I hardly paid it any mind; I listened to a few tracks to see what was causing all the hubbub, but nothing resonated. Then, as I spent more time in Brown's queer-friendly social environment and slowly came more and more out of my shell, Emotion started to click. The wondrous pop melodies and effervescent instrumentals that now rattle around my brain constantly finally stood out. Throughout my sophomore year, I listened again and again, each time feeling more and more in touch with who I was inside and how I no longer had to be afraid of music that was associated with gay culture.
My ever-growing love for Emotion kicked off an avalanche of unabashed pop consumption, a wave of music in my Spotify playlists from new era gay icons like Charli XCX and SOPHIE, or even LGBTQ-flavored indie acts like Perfume Genius or (pre-scandal) PWR BTTM. It changed my taste in music forever, but even more than that, it correlated with finally letting go of who I thought I needed to be and instead embracing who I actually am.
All of this of course culminated in Emotion being the focus of my senior thesis. If you had told me as a precocious first year in September 2015 that I would be advocating for pop music from the "Call Me Maybe" lady to be taken seriously in the academic sphere, I would not have believed you. But if a thesis is supposed to be the exclamation point at the end of your undergraduate experience, the summarization of everything you've learned both in and out of the classroom, then Emotion was the obvious choice.
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Check out a playlist below of all of the albums from this top ten, along with some honorable mentions that almost made the cut.
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