018: kyle fidelity
He’s giving John Cusack and Zoe Kravitz a run for their money
Four years ago, it would take me at least two months to ever listen to an entire album by an artist I liked, never mind any artist. My approach completely changed after I met Kyle, my bestie and author of today’s guest post. Kyle has the best and most varied taste I’ve ever heard — he loves Taylor Swift as much as he does Sega Bodega as much as he does Bernadette Peters singing “No One is Alone”. It’s what makes his playlists so good — they’re unexpected and considered and altogether delightful. Knowing him, hearing music through his ears/mind, has made listening to music a much better experience for me. So we decided he’d share how he creates some of his pitch perfect playlists. He just got a leather jacket so imagine he’s really coming for Miss Kravitz’s gig.
If there is one thing Akosua Adasi likes more than putting me in my place, it is putting on a well-curated playlist that will make her feel like a young woman in Oklahoma who thinks about death as much as where she is going for a beer that tastes like piss with her future partner. Well…maybe the latter half of that thought is more about me. I’ve been pushing through HBO’s Somebody Somewhere and listening to Maren Morris’ stunning and simple new album Humble Quest a bit too much. The thing about Maren and I is that we both think we are the matriarch of 21st century country, but really our songs are probably amidst a playlist called Miscalculated Musgraves. I swear I am not comparing successful women in music, as I love both Morris and Musgraves, and they have both made it onto one of Akosua’s favourite playlists of mine — fuck me with a tractor and crucifix in Oklahoma. In fact, Maren opens up this 41 song (and growing) Spotify playlist with her magnum opus and my favourite pick-me-up, My Church.
I like to think of my playlists like they are cohesive NTS Radio mixes whilst creating them, in hopes that one day maybe I can make a coin or two by curating a dozen deep-cut tracks that your Shazam won’t recognize. I often think about what kind of mix I would make if I knew people from around the world were tuning in and not just any listener, but those listeners like RAFTM1 Blake (who will be dazzling you with another guest contribution soon) who have their thumbs and index fingers rubbing against their stubbly chins as a drill song blasts and who think about what girl on Hinge they should send the link to. In some sick way, I want my playlists to charm that man, the one in La Sportiva shoes and Carhartt pants who eats sardines from a tin and reads his friends excerpts from Knausgård’s My Struggle (book one, let’s not push this fantasy too far) while fantasizing about getting Eiffel Towered by Chris Black and Jason Stewart. I mean, I wouldn’t say no to that proposition. I think I should make a playlist entitled something like pulling ThemJeans down in the Tesla and being Done to Death. Focus, Kyle.
When all is said and done, I will never be that guy whose playlist impresses the Conde Nast writer. I will be the one curating some wholesome, tacky, basic-white-gay mixes that somehow bring the room together in pure hatred or admiration toward me.
I need to establish some basic rules I have for a successful playlist, and you better listen to them or DM me with a time and place to fight about it:
If you feel *any* sort of mixed feelings on a track and whether it’ll fit, please don’t put it in. I have so much regret weighing down on me at all hours of the day on this crooked place we call Earth because I added Bad Magic by Weyes Blood to one of my favourite playlists, roadtrip with bloody tires [Editor’s note: On the next misty, rainy morning, put this on for maximum cinema]. It’s not that I don’t love Weyes, and I truly feel for her and how much she has had to tour Titanic Rising, but I knew when I put that song on the playlist it just wouldn’t fit. Playlists must be like films, a top to bottom narrative experience, and being crunched in between Iris DeMent and Patti Smith while soaring down a highway in Nevada covered in blood and stardust just isn’t right. Weyes Blood deserves more, and so does the curation process. Like falling for the man of your dreams who has chest hair pouring out of his tank while he says the Dreyfus bill is “on him” … when you know, you know.
Seasonal playlists are necessary if you want something you will keep returning to, at least quarterly. As someone who tap dances all over the streets of nostalgia and what could have been, I love clicking on my playlist autumn in a pandemic and sobbing to Laura Marling’s Only The Strong even if I am no longer wearing a mask and dragging a granny cart in October of 2020. I can sit back and feel for that version of myself, and feel either discouraged or proud of where I am now. My favourite playlist, summer on a solitary beach, instantly takes me back to really content and favourable times, where I’m driving in Vancouver with one of my best friends and her boyfriend to Sketch for Summer by The Durutti Column. I am looking forward to listening to that playlist this summer as well, as Akosua and I attempt to dance to swelling, oceanic music at an overwhelmingly loud volume in order to wash out the ticking of the clock that reminds us of how little time we have left together before she heads off to NYC! Her farewell playlist is still under construction.
Collaboration is fun! Like that Eiffel Tower I was mentioning before, sometimes holes can only be filled with the help of others. Sourcing suggestions from friends will make a playlist extra special, since when you listen back you will feel that essence of community. When I made to love another person is to see the face of god, I asked all of my closest friends to give me their top songs to Fall in Love to, to Get Married to, and to get over a Break-Up to. I wanted to encompass an entire relationship in one long playlist, and that involved me getting into a serious relationship with many of my closest friend’s taste levels. While I want to fall in love to Invisible String by Taylor Swift, someone else wanted to fall in love to Hush Money by Blue Iverson. And hey, maybe if you have a crush on someone and ask them this question you can see what their relationship aims are ~sonically~. Please don’t ever fall for a man who says his wedding song is anything by Rod Stewart, because you’re going to end up with a wedding reception at Red Lobster and leaving with somebody else’s crabs! Amen!
I don’t know if any of these playlist rules will seem inspiring or impressive, but I do know that as long as I keep following these rules, I will continue to be in deep thought with a phone glow on my face while curating a playlist no one will ever listen to. Sometimes I begin to fear that the more playlists I make, the more they will all seem redundant and begin to lack lustre, but each one seems to stand the test of time. Well, maybe not Bubblegum house but I wanted gay music and I wanted it fast before going clubbing for the first time since the pandemic. I think I’ll delete that one [Bubblegum house has now been deleted]. I think I need to go through my playlists like I do my closet this time of year — it’s time for a spring streaming cleaning. It’s time to go make new titles for My Playlist #73, My Playlist #74, and My Playlist #75. NTS here I come….
You can follow Kyle @idyll__pansy and listen to Pansy Boys wherever you stream music!
Reader and Friend To Me. Borrowed from Rachel Tashjian.
Your newsletter always has me cackling. But this week's had me cackling AND howling! I sound like a mad hyena right now! Y'all are too funny.