My 100 favorite songs from 100 different artists, ranked

It finally set in that I’m not going back to college in the fall when I arrived in my bare new apartment, looked around and became overwhelmed in a sea of unfamiliarity. I was excited for what was ahead of me — a new job, a new city, a chance to see what all the hype surrounding adulthood was truly about — but I also knew my hatred for change outweighed that. So, I began to clutch onto the one consistency in my life: the songs that made me.

I consider it a privilege to be able to take a trip down memory with the music that helped me sort through my emotions and persevere. It’s been a lonely first month — though I love the people with whom I work, and I’ve found a wonderful partner, Erica — but reminiscing on what got me this far has brought me so much joy. I hope you can get something out of it, too.

Let me know if we have any similar picks, or if my list is just pathetic, or anything in between.

(P.S.: you’re going to see a lot of recent music. Contrary to popular opinion, I think music, at least some genres, is headed in a great direction. Stop reading now if that makes you nauseated).

100. “Lose My Mind (feat. Mr Gabriel)” by Jai Wolf

My good friend, Mallory, sent me this song my freshman year of college (we always send music we think the other would like, something that fortunately hasn’t faded with time and distance). I just remember closing my eyes and letting the airy chorus — packed together with subtle synths and gently reverbed vocals — flood my brain with an inexplicable calm from the first listen. I’ve heard this song 1,000 times by now, but its ability to help me remember to breathe has never faltered.

99. “Nothing At All” by Day Wave

Day Wave’s “Drag” was part of a Spotify playlist I randomly stumbled upon, and I was instantly hooked. It was with “Nothing At All,” though, that I fully realized how good he made misery sound. He literally says: “What am I good for? / Nothing at all,” but the zipping guitars and zig-zagging synths make my head nod like I’m listening to surf rock at the peak of summer. It’s easy to lose yourself in the stylings of Day Wave, and that’s something I’m always longing for when I need a pick-me-up.

98. “Leave Me Alone” by NF

This pick is either going to completely turn you off or captivate you. Like most of us, NF first came to me when “Let You Down” became inescapable. I liked his style: raw, real and unapologetically himself, so I kept tabs on him. The Search was my 2019 album of the year, and I find something new to love with the second track upon each listen. His absurd flow speaks for itself, and it can serve both as a perfect workout song and the song to hold onto when life becomes too much to handle. It’s better to just listen than to let any further subpar description of mine decide for you.

97. “Black Dog” by Arlo Parks

My old roommate started rambling one day about this new artist she discovered named Arlo Parks, so I decided to give her a whirl. It’s one of the best recommendations I’ve ever received. I became entranced by so many facets of “Black Dog”: Parks’ honeyed vocals, the streaking synths, the gentle plucks of the guitar that feel like a brain massage, how free it made me feel. I still find solace within it a year and a half later.

96. “Amsterdam” by Gregory Alan Isakov

That same roommate sent me this song with the message: “This is v soothing” (One thing to know about me is I like any music that makes my mind turn off, so this is a way to grab my attention). Isakov’s voice impeccably meshes together with the endlessly running guitar, and the entire track feels like floating on a cloud, away from any possibility of harm. It only gets better as it moves along, and never does the solace stop.

95. “Graffiti” by CHVRCHES

I found this from YouTuber ARTV (the same guy who roasted my ranking of The 1975 songs), and that’s all I want to say about that. Lauren Mayberry sits on a tone I will never be able to nail in my lifetime, but that doesn’t mean I don’t try to as I scream the lyrics out my window every time I’m lucky enough to have “Graffiti” come on while I’m in the car. There’s a lot going on within the busy concoction of synths, but it’s done so well that all I ever do while listening to it is hope I had set it to repeat.

94. “ADHD” by KID BRUNSWICK

I love this story. I interviewed KID BRUNSWICK in 2020 not knowing much about him until I conducted some preliminary research to get ready, and he said he now hates this song, that it’s “cringey.” So, I listened to see if I agreed — and I totally didn’t. Two months later, this was the No. 2 song on my Spotify Wrapped. Are the lyrics stunning? Not by any means. But he sounds so damn good for no reason, and the prolonged “Maybe I just don’t feel the same” at the end of the chorus literally makes me feel like I’m levitating. I’m sure he doesn’t remember that interview, but I’m so glad I talked to him and found this utterly indescribable song.

93. “Combat” by Hazel English

This song is about as close to astral projection as I’ve ever been. I started listening to Hazel English after seeing her collaborate with Day Wave and that he produces a lot of her music, and there’s something so mystical about her airy voice. I just want to engulf myself in it and the way “Combat” makes me feel forever.

92. “Salvation” by The Strumbellas

Similar to Day Wave, this track is incredibly candid about the trials and tribulations of life, but it’s so sonically cheery that the lyrics are easy to miss. Mallory also sent me this oxymoronically groovy, upbeat track about self-doubt and fear of failure, and let me tell you: I’ve never felt more optimistic shouting anything like “I like to sleep all day ‘cause this life is easier in dreams” than when this song meets my ears.

91. “Better With You” by This Wild Life

This Wild Life came to my attention at the emergence of my emo phase, around my freshman year of high school. While its acoustic stylings aren’t necessarily “emo,” the band was at Warped Tour, and that drew me in. I remember listening to “Better With You” every night while I showered, screaming into my soap bar about a broken love I’d never experienced and letting the strings whisk me away. This is one of the first songs I remember truly loving, and it’s a big reason I realized just how powerful music can be.

90. “Only Friend” by Wallows

Embarrassing, but I wanted to see if Dylan Minnette was a better musician than actor (sorry, Clay Jensen lovers). It took me about 30 seconds into the opener of Wallows’ debut album to get my answer — a resounding yes. I can vividly remember walking across campus and bobbing my head to this track. It was March, but it felt like the beginning of summer, thanks to that hypnotizingly warm guitar riff.

89. “Georgia” by Vance Joy

You guessed it: my introduction to Vance Joy was “Riptide” and all of the quirky Tumblr tweens trying to impress everyone by playing it on their ukuleles in the mid-2010s. Though that song became old quickly, I still liked his vibe and shuffled through the rest of his discography. You might be able to tell by now that this era of mine was defined by acoustic love songs — in my personal attempt to romanticize every facet of my life — and the oh-so-sweet “Georgia” is the epitome of that.

88. “In Bloom” by Neck Deep

A grossly obsessed Neck Deep fan already, I was itching for this album by the time it arrived at the smack beginning of my senior year of high school. “In Bloom” is the quintessential summer song, bursting with shimmering guitars and gobs of optimistic lyrics about leaving the past where it belongs and focusing on right now. It helped me forget for a while how vastly my life was about to change and, instead, soak up the moment I was currently in.

87. “KYRH” by Hayley Williams

Sometimes, filler tracks are the hidden gems of albums. I impatiently awaited Hayley Williams’ second solo album so I could review it, and I couldn’t stop listening to “KYRH.” It’s literally two carbon copy verses that barely eclipse two-and-a-half minutes, but the instrumental is so dreamy that I still get goosebumps 2,000 listens later. Williams’ pacifying vocals are just the cherry on top of an already exquisite dish.

86. “Politics & Violence” by Dominic Fike

Time to embarrass myself: I didn’t listen to Dominic Fike before Euphoria. Of course I’d heard “3 Nights,” but I’d just not dug deeper until I looked forward to him on my TV every Sunday. When I reached “Politics & Violence,” I completely zoned out of every other part of my life. This song was all I knew. I don’t know if it was the fact that it’s two songs in one seamlessly united or his ridiculously smooth flow in the second half that first hooked me, but both still never fail to make my eyes bulge in shock.

85. “Name” by The Goo Goo Dolls

The Goo Goo Dolls’ “Iris” is one of those songs I think everyone has a soft spot for, but it’s “Name” that gets my head spinning and tears flowing. I first heard it around eighth grade, when music became the entity that got me through the day. Its monologue about this wholesome type of love makes my heart glow. I wish I could condense the blissful acoustic riff into a tangible object and keep it in my pocket, pulling it out when I need a shot of consolation coursing through my veins.

84. “4/4” by Danny and Alex

The silky smooth “4/4” was on a Daily Mix dominated by melancholic tunes, so it stood out for two reasons: one, it didn’t belong there, and two, it’s too groovy for this world. This track is literally about the love of music — and it definitely helped intensify mine.

83. “Song For Zula” by Phosphorescent

Now to our regularly scheduled programming of songs that rip our hearts out. I honestly can’t place where I first heard this — probably from the score of TV shows and movies it was in — but I do remember not being able to stop listening to it. The violins, moving like clockwork, never fail to completely transfix me as Matthew Houck sings about how love can be a killer. “Song for Zula” is a go-to when I want to stare at the ceiling and dissipate, and its accompaniment always makes those moments a little less bleak.

82. “Gasoline (feat. Taylor Swift)” by HAIM

Someone please promise me this will be played at my funeral. The Haim sisters entered my eyeline after their 2021 Grammys performance, and I rapidly became infatuated with “Gasoline,” specifically this remix with their good friend, Taylor Swift. Danielle Haim must’ve inserted unbridled serotonin into those drums — because my mood instantly soars as soon as the intro passes through my ears. I’ve also never related to a lyric more than when Swift shouts “I get sad!” Yes, I do, Taylor!

81. “The Great Escape” by Boys Like Girls

This is probably the most nostalgic this list will get. At my hometown bowling alley, there were huge screens above the lanes that played (kid-friendly) early 2000s pop-rock, and the video for “The Great Escape” always made an appearance. It got to the point where I’d wait for it to come on and scream-whisper it when my wish came true. Fifteen years later, I react the same way, squealing whenever the introductory clashing of guitars comes to life.

80. “Cactus Tree” by Joni Mitchell

Joni Mitchell was introduced to me at an unknown time in my childhood, and I fell for her soothing vocals and gritty lyricism. She faded from my purview unintentionally as I grew older, but I fell back into it, thanks to one of my college professors, Mike Sweeney, who raved about her in nearly every class. He just passed away earlier this year, and I listen to “Cactus Tree” not only to remember his legacy but to thank him for bringing something so good back to me.

79. “English Garden” by Great Grandpa

This appeared on my coveted Moody Mix (my most-played playlist, yikes). Everything about “English Garden” feels like a fever dream: the buzzing acoustic guitars, the delicate vocals, the enchanting violins all building to an ethereal chorus that can only be fully understood upon several listens. The lyrics feel like a famous poem that no one actually can comprehend, yet it still hits.

78. “Used To Be Lonely” by Whitney

This was a Spotify recommendation based on my non-stop listening to Phoebe Bridgers (you already know she’ll be mentioned later). I first heard this song at a time when all I craved was unconditional love, not really knowing what that felt like or if it was even attainable, and this made me feel like it’s all I’ve ever known. The production is subtle and emphasizes the wholesome lyrics, and it never fails to bring a smile to my face.

77. “Dreamland” by Glass Animals

That old roommate of mine struck again. I can’t think of a better way to describe this song than the title itself. It’s like slipping into a deep sleep, not being afraid of falling, spinning endlessly on top of a globe and never becoming sick or tired of the free-flowing movement or the moment, if I had to try to convey it. This song distracted me from the soon-to-ensue pandemic and the heavy days ahead, and I think it still might.

76. “She’s So Gone” by Naomi Scott

This probably warrants no explanation … but the best song from my favorite DCOM continues to rock my world a decade later. I know queen Bridgit Mendler is the frontwoman of Lemonade Mouth, but Naomi Scott left no crumbs on this pop-rock anthem about transforming into a better version of yourself after cutting ties with a toxic ex. Play this at the function, and I’ll be all you can hear for miles.

75. “Heaviside” by Citizen

This track is a surefire way for me to clear brain fog. My Citizen phase began immediately upon first listen of “The Night I Drove Alone,” of course, but this song does something to me. I can feel all agony wash away as soon as that comforting guitar wraps itself around me before swallowing me whole. It’s led me through plenty of study sessions and moments of despair, and I will never grow tired of its unwavering beauty.

74. “Slacks” by Valley

Someone — I don’t remember who, but thank you — posted Valley’s “There’s Still a Light In The House” on their Instagram Story, and my fascination with its colorful cover alone made me give it a spin. This past year, Valley was my most binged artist on my Spotify Wrapped. Most of its songs are indie pop bliss, but the more somber “Slacks” particularly captivated me because of the way it simultaneously feels isolated and homey. It expands my worldview, makes me feel like I’m in control of my own destiny. I couldn’t really tell you how or why, but I’m OK with that.

73. “Flightless Bird, American Mouth” by Iron & Wine

Most people know this song because of Twilight, but having never seen the franchise (I have now, unfortunately), I first heard this while working at an ungodly hour in my college paper’s newsroom. I was nearly brought to tears by Sam Beam’s emotion-ridden vocals, the faint joy hanging onto his production and the hums that guide the track into nothingness. This track really feels like flying — unlike the titular bird.

72. “Sweet Disposition” by The Temper Trap

I first heard “Sweet Disposition” while watching One Tree Hill when I was way too young to remember much, but this stuck with me. My love for it was renewed when I randomly found it deep in my liked music and played it in the car with my best friend, Riley, trying to remember what exactly it was. Her eyes lit up at the iconic bubbling intro, and it’s a song I constantly played afterward — because I love screaming it with her. It only tightened our already unbreakable bond, and it made that song forever a part of me.

71. “Japanese Denim” by Daniel Caesar 

I never thought a song comparing love to jeans could leave me in a daze, but that was before I knew Daniel Caesar. This song appeared on my Chill Mix, and I can still be found swooning over his molasses-like vocal runs. The bridge makes me feel like I’m drifting through space, not worried about where I’m going, just hoping the liberating feeling never comes to a close.

70. “Roam” by The Story So Far

The Story So Far was my introduction to pop-punk, finding the band after this girl in ninth grade literally told me my music taste was “girly.” OK? It made me really mad for some reason, so I started trying to expand my palate and found The Story So Far in a list of bands to know. “Roam” has the same energy I did when that girl disrespected my taste. It’s brimming with anger, its roaring guitars dominating the soundscape while Parker Cannon rages about the emotional push and pull of which he can’t snap out. My top genres now are indie folk, pop-punk and post-hardcore, so I guess I have that girl to thank for calling me out.

69. “Tangerine” by Blu DeTiger

Blu DeTiger began taking over my TikTok with her bass videos, and I’m not complaining at all about that. When I first heard “Tangerine,” I audibly gasped. The intro is so funky and chaotic that it sounds like someone is attempting to squish my brain, but it surprisingly feels good. She’s also so incredibly cocky in her lyrics that it’s enticing? All I know is this track needs to be archived and placed in a museum for safekeeping. 

68. “I Spend Too Much Time in My Room” by The Band CAMINO

After The Band CAMINO earned a feature on All Time Low’s 2020 album and a coworker of mine had only good things to say about the group, I took a deep dive into its work — and my god. As a title alone, “I Spend Too Much Time in My Room” is already too on the nose, but lyrics like “I know I said I liked being alone / But I care too much about what they think / So I spend too much time on my phone” just sting. It ascends into this mind-boggling guitar solo that eventually dies out, but what won’t die out is your desire to keep the song playing forever.

67. “The Story” by Conan Gray

I’ll always remember Kid Krow as my first quarantine album, so the memorabilia factor is already there. I knew Conan Gray’s name but nothing about his music, so I reviewed this album and found my new obsession. The album closer is sonically simple, guided mostly by a zippy acoustic guitar, but the lyrics “Oh, I’m afraid that’s just the way the world works / But I think that it could work for you and me” bring me to tears every time. I always feel a little more hopeful about myself and the world when listening to this song, and that’s something I can’t quite explain.

66. “Au Revoir” by OneRepublic

I learned of OneRepublic as most others did: via the megahit “Apologize.” In middle school, my taste could be defined by soft pop bands: the likes of OneRepublic, Coldplay, The Script, The Fray and so on. “Au Revoir” struck me not because its lyrics are exceptional (they’re not) but because it’s so beautifully constructed. Those faint strings turn my mind off and make me want to go outside. The instrumental bridge, as ethereal as it can get, has lifted me out of a funk more times than I can count. Man-made creations can be worthwhile sometimes.

65. “The Spins” by Mac Miller

You may not believe this, but I first heard of Mac Miller when he was on an episode of Ridiculousness (my favorite show until I reached a breaking point with Chanel West Coast’s laugh). I now fully comprehend his raw talent and legacy. Though “The Spins” is nowhere near his best song, it’s definitely the one that affects me the most. It makes me nostalgic for the wild teenage years I didn’t have. It makes me feel unrestrained from the shackles of life for three minutes. Any time I hear it, I smile but always fight to hold back tears.

64. “No One’s Gonna Love You (Stockholm Version)” by Band of Horses

I was first transfixed by Band of Horses’ “The Funeral” thanks again to One Tree Hill, but this track, this live version in particular, makes me feel absolutely nothing. That’s sometimes a feeling I crave — to just be away from it all for a moment. It’s when my best writing surfaces. It hits me with a wave of calm every time, and it’s always there for me when I need room to breathe.

63. “Simple Love” by Lindsey Lomis

If there’s ever been a song that didn’t blow up as hard as it should’ve, it’s this one. I really can’t pinpoint where I first heard this — probably a random Spotify playlist  — but I remember having to play it at least once a day my sophomore year of college, like my body depended on it to function. I felt all too well the lyrics of wanting to initiate something with a crush that never explicitly materialized, just envisioning the best case scenario in your head. It’s also just incredibly well produced, with those glimmering synths inevitably echoing in your mind for days on end.

62. “Sex, Drugs, Etc.” by Beach Weather

I’m happy to say I found this before it blew it up on TikTok. It appeared on one of the few happy Spotify mixes I listen to, and I literally felt I had entered a zero-gravity zone. This is a song I always offer when someone asks for recommendations because it has everything: inexplicable catchiness, a melody that could move mountains and golden vibes. It’s one of those tracks to play when the world feels listless; all you have to do is press play and watch all that misery perish.

61. “Nothing” by The Script

I loved The Script just as much as anyone else (probably more) in the early 2010s, and the Science & Faith album will forever be one of my favorites. “Nothing,” in particular, used to literally make me fall to my knees. As soon as I’d hear the whirring of the guitars, I’d gasp and prepare for the emotional journey ahead. I’d never felt heartbreak nor drank when I first heard this at 11 years old, but I’d almost rip my lungs out every time I’d sing “I know that I’m drunk / But I’ll say the words.” I go even harder now, half my life later.

60. “never been in love” by Gatlin

I’ve never wanted success for someone as much as Gatlin (just listen to her entire 2020 EP Sugarcoated, and you’ll see). “Talking to Myself,” in an appearance on one of my Daily Mixes, made my ears perk up. I explored the rest of the EP, and her vocals on “never been in love” just ensnared me. They’re like butter melting on a pancake, and the glistening soundscape just complements her sweet touch almost too well. It’s a song that can always brighten my day, no matter what mood is holding me captive at the time.

59. “My Wish” by Rascal Flatts

Every time my mom and I would go on any trip, we always blasted Rascal Flatts’ Greatest Hits Volume 1, and I know its discography up and down at this point. On our last trip together before I graduated college, my mom sang “My Wish” (well, more like cried it) because she said it’s everything she hopes I remember as I begin the rest of my life. This band has always been a big part of our relationship, and I’ll never not get teary-eyed listening to this song.

58. “Where I Belong” by Switchfoot

This one’s humiliating. Josh Dun from twenty one pilots had lyrics from this song in his bio, so I had to investigate. Growing up in a Christian household, I was familiar with Switchfoot but had never given it the time of day. This song, though — holy cow. It’s all about trying to make the best of the world we have while we’re still in it in hopes we can leave it better than we found it, and that’s great and all, but the crux lies in this lyric: “I’m not sentimental / This skin and bones is a rental.” That will forever make me shake. That alone makes me spiral (in the best way).

57. “EVERYTHING” by The Black Skirts

Some people have “Something” by The Beatles; I have this. Someone on my TikTok FYP suggested this (my algorithm knows me so well), and I could literally feel myself melt as the sleek guitars began to manifest themselves. Brian Cho’s toned-down vocals, too, help to create this dreamlike world, and the unparalleled lyrics about finding the person who makes you feel every emotion in the book just solidify its spot as one of the most romantic (and well executed) songs ever.

56. “Constance” by Spiritbox

Spiritbox fans might find this disrespectful since it’s the one song without any screaming, but the sheer beauty of this track can’t be ignored. My newfound love for metal began about two years ago, and Spiritbox caught my eye quickly — because I was so happy to see a woman-led band in the genre. Eternal Blue is one of the most complete, gorgeous albums I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing, and “Constance” hasn’t left my On Repeat since its release. As soon as Mike Stringer’s guitar starts darting around the room like an up-and-coming track star, I feel safe. Courtney LaPlante’s honey-soaked vocals, too, feel like home in this giant sea of warmth.

55. “Kenny” by Still Woozy

Still Woozy was introduced to me by someone I briefly talked to, and his songs are definitely the most I got out of that time period. I loved “Kenny” from the first few seconds, breathing a sigh of relief as the synths dot the soundscape, and I depended on it when I later went through a breakup. I remember lying in my bed for hours at a time and only feeling any tinge of hope when he’d say “I’ll try to be someone who could hold up, hold up on their own.” I eventually did because of that.

54. “The Ghost of You” by My Chemical Romance

Even if you didn’t have an emo phase, you had to have a My Chemical Romance phase or, if you’re like me, it was never temporary — only the beginning of a lifelong love. I knew “The Ghost of You” was always going to be my favorite MCR song from the first listen. Every one of its songs has an irreproachable passion, but this one sparks fires inside me. It invigorates me to the point that I want to key cars, punch walls, publicly fight the system. I feel like I morph into a different person for those three minutes, someone of whom I’d be proud.

53. “Finish Line” by Delaney Bailey

The first time I heard Delaney Bailey’s “Loving & Losing” on TikTok, I knew I was witnessing the birth of indie folk royalty. After my first listen of her 2021 EP, This Is About You, I couldn’t move from my bed for hours. I don’t know what’s more special: her heavenly vocals, her simple yet mesmerizing soundscapes or the way her storytelling never ceases to grip me. I can’t remember the last day I didn’t listen to this song and sink into its soft-to-the-touch splendor — not that I would ever want to live another day without it. 

52. “Tiny Glowing Screens, Pt. 2” by Watsky

I don’t know why or how this was a YouTube recommendation, but it was. I can vividly picture my reaction after the first two lines: I raised an eyebrow, paused the song, searched the lyrics to make sure I heard it right and then let my jaw drop as far as it could go. How dare Watsky start a song with “There’s 7 billion, 46 million people on the planet / And most of us have the audacity to think we matter.” That’ll forever kill me. This track falls under three minutes but is jam-packed with evocative images and a flow that still baffles me eight years later, and it’s one that kickstarted my admiration for rap.

51. “Simple & Sweet” by Jon Bellion

Jon Bellion began consuming my every thought after he opened for twenty one pilots in 2017, and I couldn’t think straight for days unless I had “Simple & Sweet” filling my ears. The looping intro is literally sanative, and the echoes bouncing off the end of every other line in the verses is almost too pleasing to bear. I’ve watched the video on how he made this song and the way he couldn’t stop playing the intro over and over a million times because that’s literally me. If I had constructed a gold mine like that, I’d be that amazed with myself, too.

50. “Cough Syrup” by Young the Giant

Young the Giant was my introduction to indie rock as I was starting high school and my music taste was becoming substantial. The band’s entire self-titled album holds a special place in my heart, but “Cough Syrup” is the most well-known song for a reason: it’s timeless. Nearly a decade later, Riley and I continue to be moved by it like it’s the first time. We’ll scream the lyrics and annoy our neighbors, but we don’t care. It’s so easy to fall into the ecstasy-filled moment it offers, and we always do. 

49. “Alewife” by Clairo 

“Alewife,” another recommendation from my old roommate, gave me a gut punch at the beginning of the pandemic, and I haven’t been the same since. Despite all the pandemonium unfolding in front of me, I was at an OK spot, but this song pulled me into reality. I don’t consider that bad, either. I reached a point a few months into the pandemic where I needed to hear Clairo singing “I lay in my room wondering why I’ve got this life” just to remember I was somehow living, too. I love so much about this song — how it unexpectedly ends with a joke after discussing depression — but I’ll never admire anything more than the fact that she kicked her debut album off with some of the saddest content that’s ever graced this earth. That’s ballsy.

48. “Navy Blue” by MUNA

I became acquainted with MUNA after I heard it was the opener for Harry Styles in 2017, but it transformed into a massive piece of my personality after collaborating and touring with Phoebe Bridgers. The subtle swagger of “Navy Blue,” despite its pensive nature, stuck with me for hours after hearing it live. I unintentionally forgot about it for a while until the after effects of my not-too-long-after breakup began ravaging my entire life, and I began to cling to it like a magnet to a fridge. It ushered me out of one of the roughest patches of my life, and I’m not sure where I’d be without it.

47. “Twenty Something” by Nightly

Nightly entered my radar after he collaborated with my sad indie queen Charli Adams, and his voice piqued my interest, so I began sifting through his work. “Twenty Something” entered my life when I needed it most. While I was transitioning into my senior year of college, I was inundated with questions of what I was doing, where I was going and if I’m even a little ready. Nightly’s calm demeanor as he sings “Don’t freak out / We’re only twenty something” gave me that deep breath I needed to remember I have my entire life in front of me, and everything was moving at a just-fine pace.

46. “Gates of Ivory” by Dayseeker

When my favorite band, Holding Absence, finally announced it was embarking on an American tour, I shrieked and looked up the other bands it was accompanying, one of which was Dayseeker. Sleeptalk completely took over my life. Nearly all of it was on my On Repeat, and I especially couldn’t stop listening to “Gates of Ivory” for a host of reasons: the pulsating guitars that make my blood rush, Rory Rodriguez’s seamless transition between gorgeous cleans and bone-rattling uncleans and chilling lyrics about religion I wish I didn’t resonate with. Can I hit even half the notes in this song? No, but that doesn’t mean I won’t destroy my lungs trying.

45. “We Don’t Need Our Heads” by A Great Big Pile of Leaves 

Midwest emo put me in a chokehold during my sophomore year of college (and has kept me there), and I happened upon this band while deluging myself with American Football — the band, not the sport. Shockingly, I fell under the spell of the bouncy guitar riff (it’s probably easy to figure out by now that kooky, ethereal guitar lines make me fly). I also just love how if you close your eyes, Pete Weiland sounds like Hozier out of his comfort zone. This track, despite just finding it a handful of years ago, reminds me of racing around the park near my childhood home, feeling young and forever impenetrable, soaking it all in.

44. “10th Avenue” by Charli Adams

The first time I heard “10th Avenue,” I literally thought I was dying. It was a Spotify recommendation, and the long stretches of that sickeningly sweet reverbed guitar made me feel as if I was fading from earth. To this day, every time it comes on, I have to go back and play the intro at least a few times over before I’m completely satisfied and I can move on. It’s a feeling that both calms me and makes me feel as if someone is holding my head underwater, and I love it. Oh, yeah, and Charli Adams has one of the most underrated voices in the game. I beg you to see it for yourself.

43. “Worth It” by Haley Heynderickx

Haley Heynderickx performed at Ohio University as part of its 2021 Music Industry Summit, and I found her unfeigned lyrics and personality so refreshing. While exploring I Need to Start a Garden, the intricacies of that buttery guitar on “Worth It” beguiled me like no other. This nearly eight-minute showpiece just adds punch after punch with each passing minute and reaches the pinnacle of all feeling with the outro — 45 seconds of spacey guitar licks, sizzling cymbals and palpable euphoria. I’m a different person than I was before those seven minutes and 53 seconds.

42. “Inspire the Liars” by Dance Gavin Dance

One of the first things (of an infinite number) that I admired about Riley is how topsy-turvy her music taste is. She goes from the Dear Evan Hansen soundtrack to Dance Gavin Dance blowing out her speakers without hesitation, and I love that. I began my spiral into this band after she told me she passed out at one of their concerts, and this song shattered my bones. It has another weakness of mine — smushing together two songs into one — and Tilian Pearson’s oohs that reach higher than Everest always make me feel lightheaded. This song hasn’t left my On Repeat in over a year — and probably never will.

41. “Candlepower” by Chris Zabriskie

This ambient track played in the background of a video I watched at a journalism workshop, and I spent days trying to find it again (which is really hard when you don’t remember anything about the video besides the song in it that diverted your attention). Eventually, I did, and it became my most played song of all time back when I used to buy all of my music on iTunes. It was on when I studied, when I needed to think, when I needed to clear my thoughts, when I needed basically anything. It’s just a constant buzzing and swelling of synths, but it makes me feel so alive.

40. “Sea, Swallow Me” by Cocteau Twins, Harold Budd

I can’t name another song that left me in shambles despite being basically gibberish. I was late to the Cocteau Twins train, not giving them much attention until late into my college years even though all I ever received was glowing reviews, and I still hate myself for it. The opening twirls of the ivories tickle my brain enough, but the kick-in of the lulling guitars lifts the hairs from my arms faster than I can count to one. I can’t understand a single thing Elizabeth Fraser is saying, either, yet it continues to open my eyes to the good (and how little of it there is) in the world.

39. “I Used To Hate My Body But Now I Just Hate You” by Fenne Lily

I read an interview Lucy Dacus and Fenne Lily did with each other, and I figured if Dacus likes her, then she’ll probably take over my life. She did. Fenne Lily has been my most recent hyperfixation, and this song basically left me devoid of all feeling. Her voice is wispy, not entirely confident but more than enough to make me feel like I’ve been staked. There are super specific moments — “I crush a paper bag to the receiver” — that just leave me livid because I wish I’d written them. I span the entire spectrum of emotion with this song, but I always leave it feeling one thing in particular: reawakened.

38. “1961” by The Fray

I know “How to Save a Life” is one of the best songs ever made, but good lord, “1961” deserves a Peace Prize. I actually don’t think I can delineate how this song makes me feel: unadulterated joy, maybe? When I’d travel for tennis in high school, I just remember staring out the window like the main character with this song tearing my headphones apart and feeling utterly at peace. Isaac Slade’s falsetto has too long gone unrecognized, and the harmonies never fail to make me swoon. If I could bottle up the way this song makes me feel and save it for a rainy day, I think I’d be more stable overall.

37. “Bupropion” by Aftertheparty

I became friends with this guy, Brian, my freshman year of college over our shared love of Jon Bellion and Logic. He sent this Aftertheparty track one day when I was having an incessant fit of anxiety, and I felt every inch of trepidation drain from my body as it played. He’s singing about feeling like he’s forever waning from his own life, not remembering what contentment feels like, yet the track is as soothing as the sound of ocean waves melting in the morning. Brian and I don’t talk anymore, but I’m forever indebted to him for showing me this track.

36. “Intrapersonal” by Turnover

My cousin, Camden, kept posting about Turnover a few years ago, and I trust their taste probably more than anyone else. Peripheral Vision was the swift breeze of wind after my long drought of not finding any music that wholly engrossed me. On the surface, it’s a feel-good indie and dream pop album. When inquiring a little harder, it’s a smack to the face about depression and how it can upend not only your life but that of everyone around you. The closer gets me every time due to how it feels like I’m reading my own diary, how I’m so aware of my sadness that I feel like it’s not affecting anyone I love when it’s the exact opposite, yet the song still feels so good, like I’m revitalized over again every time.

35. “Myth” by Beach House 

I hate that I have to mention 13 Reasons Why again, but it’s where I was first introduced to the dreamy concoctions of Beach House. Dream pop is one of my weaknesses (if you couldn’t tell), so I quickly dived into what the duo had to offer and couldn’t stop listening to “Myth” for days. That intro makes me feel like I’m relentlessly chasing after something — like a cat going after a laser pointer — that holds healing properties. That treasure lies within Victoria Legrand’s otherworldly vocals, and with the help of Alex Scally’s atmospheric guitar tone, the world feels perfectly still for a few minutes.

34. “Souvenir” by boygenius

I found Phoebe Bridgers first from Spotify, then Julien Baker and Lucy Dacus, respectively. When I discovered all three of these queens who changed my life so fast actually had a project together, I couldn’t contain myself. This EP — and especially this Baker-driven track — overtook my life. I’d have to pepper it into every conversation just so I was sure people were aware such a divine collection of music exists. “Souvenir” feels like a lover softly running their nails down your back when nothing feels alright, and you begin to have feeling again. The blows come when Dacus painfully sings “When you cut a hole into my skull / Do you hate what you see like I do?” before it all rises into a hodgepodge of goosebump-inducing oohs, and it’s easy to feel as if your feet are no longer touching the ground.

33. “warm glow” by Hippo Campus

Hippo Campus didn’t form until I was 13, but I feel like I’ve known these boys all my life. A friend in high school, Joanie, mentioned the song “baseball” to me in passing, so I decided to listen to that and the rest of the EP. I didn’t give “warm glow” my full attention the first time, so when I came back to it several days later, I remember thinking, “How did I miss this?” That guitar line loops around your mind like a globe, and it always reminds me of driving through the outskirts of my hometown, close to people I don’t talk to anymore, thinking I’d reached the height of exuberance. I know that’s not true anymore, but still, when Jake Luppen repeats “Peace sign, getting by / People, we’ll be alright” over and over again, I fully believe him.

32. “Submerge” by Movements

Movements means so much to me, yet I can’t remember my origin story with it for the life of me. Feel Something pushed me through senior year of high school, and I just remember craving the crinkly texture of the intro of “Submerge,” how that feeling of falling in your dreams and waking up in a sweat becomes a palpable reality. The track is well-named, too — because it simulates dipping your head underwater in the bath and being held under. Every time I hear Pat Miranda scream “Drowning in the dark” as the song dies out, I feel like I lose a part of myself, and I’m absolutely fine with that.

31. “When” by Dodie

I never really cared for Dodie. I was aware of her growing up, and she gave me quirky girl Tumblr vibes, which wasn’t my thing. But when I won tickets to see Lizzy McAlpine open for her, I had to go, and I’ve never felt so fragile. She began playing “When,” and she was killing me left and right. Lyrics like “Sure, I’ll live in the moment / But I’m never happy here” and “Am I the only one wishing life away?” completely changed my brain chemistry. I went home that night and listened to “When” over and over until I was finally struck with sleep, then repeated for about a week. I’ve done some of my best writing under the accompaniment of that song, and I now shut down Dodie slander everywhere I go.

30. “All I Wanted” by Paramore

We all had a Paramore phase around middle school — at least I’d hope so. It was formative to my teenage years and a savior in my darkest moments, and I know the same goes for a lot of people. “All I Wanted” is nowhere near Paramore’s best, but it’s the one that gets me the most riled up. I remember being newly 14, never having been in a meaningful relationship, and falling to the floor over how devastated this song made me — how this breakup tore Hayley Williams to bits. I’d scream “All I wanted was you” from my bedroom over and over, thinking maybe I could channel that kind of raw emotion and make it my own, hoping I could feel that well someday. All I can say now is don’t play this song when I’m around unless you’re dying for me to burst your eardrums.

29. “Cool Blue” by The Japanese House

The Japanese House grabbed my attention after rumors surfaced that it could be Matty Healy’s side project. But, no, those androgynous vocals belong to the brilliant mind of Amber Bain, whose lustrous synth-pop stylings are comparable, in my mind, to the magic of seeing your first snowfall. “Cool Blue” lights me up, kindly grabs my palms and guides me into a world far better than the one to which I’ve grown accustomed. Trust me: I’d leave this song playing forever if I could.

28. “Sparks” by Coldplay

Coldplay was my favorite band growing up and still the best live performance I’ve ever witnessed. The thought-provoking, assuaging acoustics of Parachutes defined my life until I decided to expand my music horizons a little more, and “Sparks” was always the song that stopped me in my tracks. The beat drop and dripping bass always turn a switch off in my brain, and Chris Martin’s absolutely desolate “Did I drive you away?” makes me want to gouge my eyes out (positive). For some reason, I associated this song with autumn, too — because it just fits with a feeling of renewal.

27. “Soren” by Beabadoobee

It was Beabadoobee’s “Disappear” that reeled me in, but it was “Soren” that split me in two. I distinctly remember sitting in a McDonald’s drive-thru and just bursting into tears over what it must be like to love someone this much or to be Bea’s (now ex) boyfriend and have such pure poetry written about you. She’ll continue to get me with the lyric “If there was a place that I could call home before I die / You ought to know it’d be in your arms tonight.” I’ve always loved Bea’s syrupy pipes, how they mimic the feeling of grazing your hand over a blanket fresh out of the dryer, and they reach utopian levels here. 

26. “Slow Burn” by Kacey Musgraves

I watched Kacey Musgraves win Album of The Year at the 2019 Grammys, and I was like, “Who in the world?” I understood about a minute into the opening track of Golden Hour. I think it’s safe to say “Slow Burn” is the best country song in decades, not just because Musgraves’ voice could calm a nation but because it’s so easy to get wrapped up in every little facet of it: the tender string-plucking, the subtle shakers at the end, the literal blissful slow burn of the song that culminates with the atmospheric instrumental that feels like spinning joyously on a carousel. I’d lay my life down if that’s what it took to keep this song in the forefront of people’s minds forever.

25. “Honey” by Ill Spector

I returned from a long night at my college paper at 2 in the morning still having work to do, so I set up shop in my dorm’s lobby, not wanting to wake up my roommate. My frequently aforementioned roommate sent me this song and didn’t know the monster I’d become after it. My 2020 Spotify Wrapped said I first heard it Jan. 15 and had listened to it for the 100th time by Jan. 16, if that tells you anything. Lyrics like “And that is my brain / Finding out the only thing I want to feel is pain” feel like effervescence next to that otherworldly guitar line. It became the song of my life, my overarching personality trait, the air keeping my lungs running. I’d do anything to hear it again for the first time.

24. “Queen songs / human.” by Judah & the Lion

Judah & the Lion was the other opener alongside Jon Bellion for that stint of twenty one pilots’ 2017 tour, so I naturally had to dive in. I chugged through this album and can remember how utterly distraught I was at this eight-minute masterpiece, how I couldn’t fathom that it wasn’t fiction because it was so perfect. Again, it’s two songs in one, and while the first one sets your tear ducts into overdrive, the second one — a spiritual journey of sorts through the human condition — leaves you thoroughly helpless. This is undoubtedly how music is supposed to make people feel, and I will always point to it when people ask me about a life-altering moment I’ve had.

23. “Buried Alive” by Logic

Logic entered my life late in high school, and he carried me. I used to eat, sleep, breathe, live this song, in which Logic channels a hold-nothing-back therapy session. I’d put my headphones in and blare it during class when I wasn’t supposed to; I’d sit in my worn brown recliner at home and leave it on a never-ending loop, and my mom wouldn’t know she’d been talking to nothing for an hour; I’d only pause it to scratch my ear or hop in the shower. I’d anxiously wait until it reaches the “Let it breathe” line like my life depended on it. The most impressive thing about it all might be that I dedicated almost a year of my life to a song Logic wrote on a whim early one morning.

22. “The Background” by Third Eye Blind

I ignored Third Eye Blind’s iconic “Semi-Charmed Life” the first time I heard it on the radio because it did nothing for me at the time. When I, several months later, gave the band’s self-titled album a spin because the cover intrigued me, I first gave that fiery megahit the respect it deserved and then soon felt my walls caving in, thanks to “The Background.” I had a visceral reaction to it: the draining of all life and color from my face, a struggle to breathe, shudders that would come and go. I felt as if this song had given me an exorcism, purging the bad without me having to do much besides withstand lyrics like “The plans I make still have you in them” and “I felt you long after we were through,” and I barely could.   

21. “Wait” by M83

I made friends with this girl, Abigail, while we were both in a volunteer group at my hometown library. We started sharing music, and she sent me “Wait,” telling me she feels the earth move when the drums kick in during the concluding instrumental. If that isn’t the most eloquent way to describe this song, I don’t know what is. I imagine this is what plays when we reach the end of our lives, and it encircles our thoughts as we remember the precious moments before it all turns black. I can’t think of a more potent way to say goodbye.

20. “Yes I’m Changing” by Tame Impala

I’ve had my fair share of experiences with people who asked if I like Tame Impala to be meme-y, but frontman Kevin Parker is one hell of a talent who deserves more than to have the intro of “The Less I Know The Better” accompany your punchlines (even though I typically laugh at stupid videos like that). The summer before I started college, I felt the planets shift the first time I heard the aura-cleanser “Yes I’m Changing.” It came into my life exactly when I needed it. While this track is about healing and moving on following a breakup, I took it as forgetting all the wretched things that had dominated my life up to that point (high school and the inevitable chaos that comes with it) and starting anew. And I really did because of it.

19. “Sahara” by Relient K

Switchfoot and Relient K toured together, and I didn’t have to hide listening to either since they were Christian rock. The latter, though, really stepped away from that on 2009’s Forget and Not Slow Down (at least to the point that it didn’t pervade every lyric), which quickly became one of my favorite albums ever. “Sahara” will forever and always be my favorite intro. That pair of guitars rips through my skull like an unrelenting chainsaw, and I feel invigorated to the point that I could realistically replace the Energizer bunny. Matt Thiessen is just irate in this track, and it shows through the ultra-aggressive production and piercing vocals that could chop right through slabs of metal if they wanted. This is my go-to song when I want to just set the world on fire, and I always feel like I have by the end of it. 

18. “Mythological Beauty” by Big Thief

Again, I bow down to the TikTok algorithm gods for this one. I had already liked Big Thief but hadn’t scoured its discography as much as I would’ve liked yet. The first few seconds played on that random video, though, made me race to Spotify. Every time Adrianne Lenker sings “You’re all caught up inside / But you know the way,” I feel transcendental, like I’ve become one with God, and I’m not religious. But seriously, I feel a strange magnetic pull to this song at night, almost as if I’m meant to forever be intertwined with it and its restorative powers. I’m honestly starting to believe that’s true — because I always emerge from it feeling a little better.

17. “I Just Want to Sell Out My Funeral” by The Wonder Years

The Wonder Years was on the Warped Tour lineup the year I began paying attention, and I’d heard “I Just Want to Sell Out My Funeral” was known for breaking people, so I had to see for myself. This is one of my earliest memories of being left speechless by lyrics. I didn’t know words could hurt that bad or leave a gaping hole in my chest. I began screaming “I just want to be enough for everyone” and “I just want to know that I did all I could with what I was given” down every hall in my house, to my mom’s dismay. I feel like I’ve lived an entire life every time I hear this — probably because it makes me think too hard, like pondering if I’ll sell out my own funeral someday, but my brain finds serenity in the moments it’s most stimulated.

16. “Gets Better” by Catie Turner

My friend on the college paper, Olivia, handed this recommendation to me when I was asking for sad songs. She destroyed my well-being that day, but it’s what I asked for. No one is safe with lyrics like “When they say it gets better / Damn, it’s taking forever / I know these days should be treasured / But I don’t want to remember at all.” This makes me want to drop to the ground, skinning my knees on the way down, raise my fists in anger toward the skies and let it all out, but a screaming session in the car usually does the trick as an alternative. I feel like if I were to watch my life back on a tape recorder, behind those quiet eyes showing nothing, these would be the words puncturing my brain, pleading desperately for a way out.

15. “Funeral Pyre” by Julien Baker

How do you accurately convey a Julien Baker song? I’ll never know. I guess it feels like scalping yourself as slowly as you can to absorb every ounce of pain, then it reaches the point where you become numb to it and, eventually, all of your surroundings. Baker was a Spotify recommendation based off Phoebe Bridgers, naturally, and “Funeral Pyre” left me holed up in my college dorm for a few days. I began to only feel something when the intro hit, and she lets go of all caution, and the world becomes saturated with layers of delicate oohs, and I feel OK with dying. Sometimes, I come back to this song when I’m happy, just to bring myself back to earth. It’s unhealthy, but I also live for the moments in which I feel like I’ve entered a body that’s not my own.

14. “Faux” by Ed Tullett, Novo Amor

Never will this song not speckle my arms with goosebumps. Novo Amor ravaged my life after I heard his music in Five Feet Apart, and I became grossly obsessed with his feathery voice and how it made me feel innocent, guardless, safe without even trying. I remember flying out of my desk chair the first time I heard the chorus’ falsetto and absolutely losing my mind. I’d never known something that idyllic could be in my midst or even down on earth. The rest of the song might as well be nonsense — and it basically is anyway because it’s hard to understand even with the lyrics in front of you — because why do you need anything else when Novo Amor can wash away all the pain you’ve ever felt with one note?

13. “anything” by Adrianne Lenker

As a massive Big Thief fan, I figured I should probably listen to frontwoman Adrianne Lenker’s solo material. Whenever I’m in my hometown, I like to take walks down this meandering path around my neighborhood, and I decided to play songs during my journey one day. When it reached “anything,” I forgot how to breathe. Between the winding guitar riff and the lyrics about love I could barely believe were real, I felt like Lenker broke the code to the enigma that was my emotions. I was unreachable for days that summer because of it, and I still feel bits of myself ripping from my flesh with each new listen.

12. “Daisies” by Tanner Swift

Musician and Twenty One Pilots superfan Anthony Amorim tweeted near the end of my high school days about a heart-wrenching EP from someone named Tanner Swift (not Taylor). Intrigued by the potential melancholia and the fact that it was called I’m Losing Friends, I couldn’t help myself. I can still remember lying face down into my pillow while this song took my life away. I can still feel my knees twinge at the first poke of the guitars all these years later. I feel this song in every crevice of my body. I feel the lyrics “You created a man who couldn’t want you / And you gave him my name” like I wrote them. I will never, ever loosen my grip of this song — not like I’d ever want to.

11. “ceilings” by Lizzy McAlpine

After seeing Lizzy McAlpine sound better live than in her studio versions and already thinking Give Me A Minute was one of the best albums of the decade, I waited for five seconds flat like a lonely dog at its owner’s closed bedroom door. I was already fascinated by the simplistically gorgeous acoustic intro, and by the end of the chorus’ first rendition, I felt my entire body shutting down. McAlpine’s mellifluous tone, intermingled with strings that help me remember to make sure my chest is still rising and falling and lyrics that snap my heartstrings in two, is just exquisite. I can’t accurately portray what it does to me — because I’m not even sure myself. I just know I long for it when I’m going to bed, in the morning because I want it to be the first thing I hear, in the car so I can feel like I’m moving with a purpose. This song just came out this year, but I feel like I’ve unknowingly prayed for it all my life (and, remember, I’m not religious).

10. “Bad News” by Owen

When I figured out American Football frontman Mike Kinsella had a solo project as old as me, I’m pretty sure I involuntarily squalled. I went through all nine (now 10) of his albums and, like Gregor Samsa, had my own metamorphosis. I’m not sure I knew what it was like to be sad before Owen. Lyrics like “You’re a has-been that never was or will be” permanently stunned me to the point I couldn’t feel for a while, but I still needed to hear it nonstop. I also just adore how half the song is a soft instrumental fadeout that’s reminiscent of flowers budding at the start of spring. Nothing about this song makes sense when compared side by side, but that’s what I love. It’s a mishmash of sounds that just work somehow — and that I can’t imagine living without.

9. “Sunsetz” by Cigarettes After Sex

YouTube recommended Cigarettes After Sex’s Tiny Desk performance to me, and I had never moved faster to a Spotify page than I did merely three seconds into “K.” I swiftly became attached at the hip to its self-titled album. Now, I usually get mad at artists for doing the same thing over and over, but with this band, why change when you have the formula? It’s probably why I don’t think it has a bad song. “Sunsetz” was my top song of 2021, playing it a whopping 311 times. That winding guitar loop injects me with vitality every time, and Greg Gonzalez’s saccharine voice unceasingly smothers me with solicitude. I used to think all the love I ever needed was within these three-and-a-half minutes because I’ve never been as stirred elsewhere, and I always know where to go when I need a reminder of how I’m supposed to feel.

8. “More” by Lawrence

Lawrence was the opener for Jon Bellion when I saw him the summer before sophomore year of college, and I was blown away by a host of things — but especially how its soul-pop sound made me want to dance amid a prolonged sad stretch in my life and how zesty and powerful Gracie Lawrence’s vocals are. I became an avid fan right then and there and depended on “More” to steer me through that following year. There was one day in which I had played it from the moment I woke up, but as I sat in my dorm’s study room that night and gave it my full attention, I broke down and realized I needed this song with me at all times. That February, I got “There will be more” tattooed across my arms to remember the days ahead will have both good and bad, and I need to be ready for both. I’m now much better equipped to handle that when I look down and see my reminder.

7. “The Shell” by Lucy Dacus

No words I say will ever do this song justice; it’s ineffable, beyond description. My dependency on Lucy Dacus’ music began with boygenius, and she became my favorite solo artist rather quickly. It’s hard for me to pick just one song, but I’ve never so closely identified with lyrics as I do with “The Shell”  — and you’ve seen how deeply I feel these songs. Working in a writing-driven industry (journalism major, English minor; I truly set myself up for failure) has left me burnt out more times than I’d like to admit, and Dacus knows the feeling. I still feel my shoulders fold every time I hear “You don’t have to be sad to make something worth hearing,” and I know I’ll get that embedded in my skin someday. This song is a world of its own, a safe space of sorts for jaded people like me to get free therapy, and I feel the cracked flecks of my self-esteem begin to mend with every listen.

6. “Before You Start Your Day” by Twenty One Pilots

Twenty One Pilots is the band that saved my life. I know the duo is now perceived as the cringey dudes who paint their necks and sing about demons, but it’ll forever be what opened my eyes to the idea that the ache poking at my ribs was only there to wake me up, not cast me away. Its self-titled album will always be my favorite ever, and its least-appreciated track, “Before You Start Your Day,” will always galvanize my wishy-washy mindset. I begged for a year straight to get “The clouds above will hold you” tattooed, and my mom finally gave in when I said she could write it out. Half the reason I loved those words so much had to do with thinking at the time that religion would pull me through any bout with affliction, and even though I don’t think that anymore, I don’t regret this tattoo one bit. I remember what this song did for me at my lowest point — and what it will continue to do for me any time I need a crutch.

5. “If I Believe You” by The 1975

The 1975 dominated my high school days, even though I despised the gibberish that is “Chocolate” the first time I heard it at a school dance. Its sophomore album (way too long to write out) both became my place of refuge and frequently tore me to shreds, the latter of which is most evident with “If I Believe You.” I began squaring up with religion around this period, and Matty Healy somehow distilled every single one of my thoughts, put it in a song and force-fed it to me — because it’s not like I wanted to hear it, but I certainly needed to. Nothing will ever devastate me more than the lyrics “If it was You that made my body / You probably shouldn’t have made me atheist.” I consider myself agnostic, but damn, those words make me feel like my insides are getting wrung out every time without fail. The entire song is a lyrical masterpiece, but that line alone cleared the fog on my quarter-life crisis and led me back inside.

4. “Uncomfortably Numb (feat. Hayley Williams)” by American Football

I yet again have to thank ARTV for showing me this band my sophomore year of college. I hardly listened to his descriptions, instead letting my brain run rampant with thoughts over how a band I’d never even heard in passing could pull someone like Hayley Williams. I now kick myself for that. I had a lot to learn about the Kinsellas’ history and legacy, and “Uncomfortably Numb” hauled me there faster than could probably be perceived. The coiling guitar line turns my brain into a puddle of fuzz, making me forget where I am or what I’m doing, but Mike Kinsella’s scintillating vocals always restore me. I can guarantee there will never be more of a biting ending to a song than “I’ll make new friends in the ambulance,” followed by the instrumental slowly dying out, as if it hadn’t just spit one of the most devastating lines ever conceived. It left me in a state of disrepair for days — and I’m not sure I ever fully healed from it.

3. “Untitled” by Knuckle Puck

I always have to sit down when I talk about this song. My junior year of high school came hand in hand with a swath of torment, including having my closest friend abruptly remove me from her life, and I began to feel like I’d never stop spinning out. Joanie played this song during homeroom and offered me an earbud, and I immediately dissociated. The lyrics “I’ve been much better / But at least I’m healing” became my beacon of light, and the build into the hum-driven instrumental was my safe haven. I always felt free from harm during these eight minutes, and I still do when I need it every now and then. I was finally able to look that old friend in the eye in the two classes we had together and, even better, I made a new friend, Mahala, who would cry with me to this song every dark evening. This song not only ameliorates every facet of my life, but it makes me wonder if the pain was ever there at all.

2. “Savior Complex” by Phoebe Bridgers

Anyone who knows me, even just a little, has heard me babble about Phoebe Bridgers, so I’m sorry in advance for what’s coming. I stumbled upon her as the pandemic was getting underway, right before Punisher dropped, and her song “Funeral” quickly became my companion when unexplainable sadness came to pick on me. I thought that’d always be her best. But upon Punisher, I felt the tides turn. I couldn’t grasp how the faultless could be triumphed over. “Savior Complex,” though, redefined the quintessential. I’m never alright when its opening acoustic strums become perceptible, nor will I ever be. I feel simultaneously so alive and like I should be preparing my last words when she asks me about my nightmares. The violins remind me of sun spilling in through the blinds, of everything good waiting for me outside. This song overstimulates me to the point that when it stops, I’m not sure how to act. But it’s not like that matters since I always have it playing.

1. “Celebration Song” by Holding Absence

I had to review Holding Absence’s single “In Circles” for a music writing internship, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much passion flowed from Lucas Woodland’s lips, so I made a note to listen to the album when it came out. The album starts with a minute-long intro about mental revival that seamlessly flows into “Celebration Song,” where Woodland climbs to the rooftops, stretches his chest and proclaims to everyone within a mile radius that he made it: “I’m alive.” The sheer gusto of his voice as he screams those words with all his might immobilized me for an untold amount of time. I knew from that first listen I’d get those words tattooed. Months passed by so I could make sure it’s what I really wanted — during that time, that song accompanied every walk I took down my neighborhood path, every night when I felt dejected and hopeless, every moment I needed reminded I was breathing — and I direct messaged Woodland on Instagram to ask if he’d write the words out for me, not thinking anything would come of it. He sent it to me two weeks later. When the band finally came to America this past spring, I got to meet him and show him, and he remembered how self-conscious he was about his handwriting. When he sang “Celebration Song” live, I knew I had reached the apex of my life. I remember everyone in that room disappearing except for him and me, and he sang those words right to me, as if they were meant for me all along.

Listen to all of the songs from this list here: