A summer solstice playlist
In case you need a palette cleanser from the AI angst
There’s a beach by my mom’s house in Maine that we walk along every evening in the summertime. The shore is northeast facing with a crescent-shaped peninsula caging in the Atlantic, so the water is only swimmable for about two weeks at the end of July. We usually arrive just before sunset, as locals start setting up their twilight bonfires, and the sun takes its time to dip behind the tree-line, filtering through stratus clouds you can nearly touch. Sometimes we catch the moon popping up over the horizon. The sand feels like gray velvet under your feet. The beach is on a land trust so there are no commercial buildings and barely any houses, not a clam shack or even an outhouse for miles.
Anyway, here are a few things I’ve been enjoying listening to.
The newest season of Constellation Prize came out last month. Bianca Giaever brings us on etherial journeys as she explores existential questions about art, God and the human experience. Lush and feeling and dreamy — this podcast is so good. The latest is a four part series called Nightwalking in which Giaever corresponds with the naturalist and poet Terry Tempest Williams. Williams’ description of a blooming datura (in the third episode) is truly ecstatic. This show is a gem.
I learned recently about several studies that found that listening to birdsongs reduces stress, anxiety, paranoia and depression. This makes intuitive sense to me: their chirps and trills are totally liberated, bursting forth from their tiny chests into the wide world. When I go for walks with the dog and the baby I usually have one earbud in so I can listen to my environment, which in our neighborhood includes morning doves, parrots and crows, and also so I can respond to whatever urgent thing the kid has to tell me about any construction vehicles or gardeners we might pass. To The Best of Our Knowledge is one of my favorite podcasts to listen to on these ritual sojourns. No matter the subject, Anne Strainchamps and her team approach their interviews with wonder and depth. This episode called Avian Obsessions gives fascinating histories of owls, ravens and hummingbirds, and may immerse you in a bit of nature wherever you are.
A Hummingbird by Emily Dickenson A route of evanescence With a revolving wheel; A resonance of emerald, A rush of cochineal; And every blossom on the bush Adjusts its tumbled head,— The mail from Tunis, probably, An easy morning's ride.
If you aren’t already listening to Rumble Strip — what’s stopping you?? The show focuses on life in Vermont, and the host, Erica Heilman, extracts moments of incredible insight and transcendence in her conversations with deer hunters, dairy farmers, sheep slaughterers, bear lovers, truck drivers and her friend Susan, a private eye. Rumble Strip won a Peabody for its episode Finn and the Bell, and you should listen to it immediately. The audioscape of trees rustling and diners bustling and engines revving will make you feel like you’re right there in the Kingdom. I have a soft spot for the episodes about Town Meeting, the day every spring when citizens from towns around Vermont gather to discuss local problems; they’re a poignant demonstration of democracy, and brilliant character studies. And of course the police log recitations are works of art. If I can’t persuade you, maybe this New Yorker profile can.
I don’t listen to a ton of contemporary music. I do try, but so much sounds thin and repetitive to me (an indication that my taste is unassailable? Or that I have been on this planet well over three decades…). I did get into ROSALíA a year ago, which gave me an unreasonable amount of pride. But for the most part I’m pretty routine in my music listening habits. I enjoy ambient tunes while we’re having breakfast and working on puzzles (lately Eno, Mary Lattimore, The Milk Carton Kids and anything with Erlend Øye). I play a lot of bossa nova and jazz around dinnertime; I think it’s safe to say that little would make my partner more grateful than if I never played Milt Jackson again (I just love the vibes baby!). When it comes to “current” music (I’m talking the last decade) I’m a sucker for a touch of nostalgia, so when I stumbled upon Thee Sacred Souls a few months ago I put them into heavy rotation. I’m just glad to know that there are still singers out there with voices like cinnamon and honey, who haven’t been autotuned into oblivion.
And speaking of voices (and nostalgia)… Colter Wall. Like Butch Cassidy ran sandpaper over Johnny Cash’s vocal cords. Listening to Wall makes me yearn for a life on the plains, herding cattle and drinking black coffee out of tin cups. Wall’s music is one of the few things my toddler will tolerate in the car, so that’s a plus. He has a new album coming out this year, and the first two singles have me ready to settle in by a campfire for a night under the stars. Here’s an oldie.
I plan on spending a lot of time winding along coastal roads this summer, so if you have any listening recommendations I’d love to hear them.