When I made this playlist, I actually thought it would be the last one. I had intended the project to have a clear end, to cap it at 100 unique songs. I put a lot of time and energy into making each one—tracks, ordering, title, cover image—and I didn’t think I could keep it up forever.
So I started with a song that had lyrics of finality, Phantogram’s “You Don’t Get Me High Anymore.” I had first heard it on an episode of Song Exploder, and loved how everything dropped out in the spooky, ethereal pre-chorus, and came back in full force for the chorus:
Nothing is fun
Not like before
You don't get me high anymore
Used to take one
Now it takes four
You don't get me high anymore
The duo said they wanted the song to be “scary, desperate.” There’s a vocoder on the chorus, which creates layered minor harmonies. The synths, modeled after a gritty bass, have a lot of weight to them. This rock element is paired with a sampled funk drum beat; the repurposing of this bouncy, beachy sound for such an angry song is a testament to the power of sampling, how versatile the outcomes can be.
“Felt” by Garbage has a similar heaviness to it. After the electric guitar intro, everything comes in feeling washed out; Shirley Manson’s low, lilting voice is drowned in reverb, the drums sound like they’re being played in the next room, the bass plays every eighth note like a metronome. Shirley sings:
They’re only feelings, baby
They're only feelings
Garbage formed in 1993 in Wisconsin. By that time, Butch Vig had produced Nirvana’s Nevermind (1991), Smashing Pumpkin’s Siamese Dream (1993), and Sonic Youth’s Dirty (1992). He, Duke Erikson, and Steve Marker knew each other from their previous musical efforts. They were looking for a singer that emulated "Debbie Harry, Patti Smith, Chrissie Hynde and Siouxsie Sioux." They found Shirley Manson.
Shirley is from Edinburgh, where she performed with some mildly popular acts before auditioning for Garbage. When she came to the States to meet the band, she had already developed a formidable stage presence as the front-woman of her own group, Angelfish. Garbage’s hit “Stupid Girl” skyrocketed her into fame, peaking at No. 4 on the UK Singles charts. She was a grunge icon in the 90s; girls everywhere dyed their hair red to match hers and imitated her intense, no-nonsense persona. But the band’s success came with vitriolic press criticism, about the music but more about Manson—her style, her sex appeal, her physique. The media were horrendous to her, picking apart her appearance at every opportunity, but she said she was too busy to notice.
“Felt” is from their sixth studio record, Strange Little Birds (2016), their second new album released after a long hiatus. Manson often addresses the critiques she receives for being too old to be in a grunge band, telling young female musicians, in her iconic Scottish accent, “You can still have an amazing career. You can still have amazing sex. You can still have amazing adventures. You can still do crazy shit.”
I think Shirley Manson would be proud of Michelle Branch. After releasing two pop albums to critical acclaim when she was a teenager—The Spirit Room (2001) and Hotel Paper (2003)—Michelle Branch put out a rock-leaning record more than a decade later. Hits like “Everywhere” and “Breathe” embodied a sound that became synonymous with her name, but weren’t what she wanted to write. In those lost years, her label refused to drop her, but also wouldn’t release her music. When she finally escaped her contract, she had lost a lot of momentum.
“Best You Ever” never resolves into the final word of the phrase, leaving the listener hanging on her coy vocal. Though she was freshly divorced, she said the song is more directed at the music industry, her controlling first contract, and everyone who tried to force her to be something she’s not. After she lost her status as teenage pop darling, Branch might have become just another vestige of the brutal early aughts music scene, which chewed up and spit out countless young women (what is Vanessa Carlton doing now? Anna Nalick? Priscilla Ahn?). She persevered through her label purgatory to create something she cared about, even after she was told to give up.
For a playlist whose first impression is one of conclusion, it features a lot of music for tenacity, for getting up and trying again. I’m grateful that after listening to this mix for a few days, I decided to keep going. It’s good to be here.