I don’t typically think of myself as an impulsive person, but sometimes I get an idea and have to execute it immediately, as if the thought is something animating me from within, controlling my brain and body. So it was with Record Store, this newsletter I started on a whim during the deep pandemic.
I was upfront with readers about my lack of direction and clarity when I started writing. I just felt like I had something that I needed to get out, a muscle that needed to be stretched. I almost fell into the format the newsletter takes now; it just felt right. When I published my first issue, I was working full time in education and had dropped out of college. I wasn’t sure what the future held, for myself or the rest of the world. The pandemic was bearing down again, blocking out the sun with its enormity. I planned on going back to school in the fall, but that was months away and the world was so volatile, I was afraid to count on it. I needed something that was real right now, something I could create myself.
I’ve been making playlists in this format—rigid, chronological, almost photographic in specificity—since I was fifteen. It is the personality trait that has been the most consistent throughout my life, a fulcrum around which the rest of me has shifted. Music was and is the most important thing to me, without a doubt. I feel so grateful to my past self for having the foresight to know I would want to remember everything in this way, the emotional contours more legible than the minutia. I am so well encapsulated by these little mixtapes, so easily reduced to ten component pieces at any given moment.
I’m fascinated by the emotional dimensionality of music, its evocative and associative properties which allow it to be transposed onto different memories and situations. More than any other art form, it leaves room for personal interpretation and meaning. I’ve made it my life’s work to hear and attach to myself as many songs as possible, like many bionic appendages which make me me.
I am so indebted to the music that has shaped me. Sometimes I worry that I’m quite small inside the thick casing of records and artists and shows that I’ve collected, but I believe in the transformative power of art, believe that the beautiful things I pick up and carry become ingrained in me, internalized. My writing this year has allowed me to excavate these layers and learn more about the songs that I love along the way.
It’s delightful to me that so many of you have elected to be along for the ride, to accompany me down the rabbit holes of subjects like genre-building, the female gaze, and the formation of taste. I’ve made myself an expert on horribly specific topics; I’ve read hundreds of interviews, profiles, Instagram captions, Wikipedia Personal Life sections. I appreciate every thoughtful comment, every text from a friend asking for more detail or context—my writing is so personal to me that realizing someone sees me or feels seen through it is a powerful experience every single time.
In the coming year, I hope to grow my readership, start writing profiles of my favorite artists, and expand to a paid tier of bonus content. You can help—please forward relevant issues to your friends, exes, professors, neighbors, arch nemeses, siblings if you think that they’d appreciate a tidbit about their favorite song. It goes a long way, and my mom can only tell me my newsletter is great so many times.
There’s no playlist this week; instead, I’d love it if you would comment a song, album, or artist you want to see appear in an upcoming issue of Record Store. Back to the regular format next weekend. Thanks for being here.
I'd love to hear your thoughts on Spoon's latest record. I'm late to the party but finally picked it up.
For artists, maybe one of your favorite local singers/bands? Someone that might be new to the rest of us?
Icarus by the Staves! Crushes me a little every time