Top Ten Albums That Defined My College Experience

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.