Soundtrack to Your Life Weekly Playlists
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deactivated1484545980DTessStevens
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Soundtrack to Your Life Weekly Playlists
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10 Rock Tunes That'll Make You Want To Go Out Tonight
Every week it's the same thing, we work and work and work all week and then when Friday comes we go nuts. It's a common theme in life. When you get time that is your own, you either do nothing, or do everything. These songs are for the people who want to do everything. 1. When The Sun Goes Down - Arctic Monkeys Things do change when the sun goes down. And on Friday after you've worked yet another long, tiring week sometimes you have no choice but to go out and get down. This will make you want to hit up a scuzzy dive bar and drink until sunrise. Good way to start things off. 2. Reptilia - The Strokes You might remember this song from a car commercial or Guitar Hero, but honestly, who doesn't get hyped when it comes on? This guitar line is legendary, and the chorus is enough to make even the most crotchety person get up and dance. No matter, if you're partying by yourself or with a million of your closest friends...this is a fucking banger. 3. Dirty Pretty Things - Bang Bang You're Dead I know a lot of you stateside don't know this band. That is your mistake. Correct it now and make sure that you listen closely, because your life is about to change. This is one of many Libertines off-shoots that will appear on this list. Still, this is a rad song to drink to and will make you want to beat up your worst enemy. Yeah, be careful 'bout that. 4. Makeout Party - Green Day This is a lesser known track from their 2013 release "Dos". The whole triple album is brilliant, in my opinion. And no song makes me want to go out more than this one. Grab your girlfriends, boyfriends whatever. Grab your squad and hit the bar. You will not be disappointed! This live version is rough, but it will give you the idea of the energy of the track. 5. Jumpin' Jack Flash - The Rolling Stones I'm going to throw a little old school stuff in here. My personal favorite Stones track is perfect for those moments where you're contemplating your game plan or just sitting around chilling with friends. It's a low maintenance track with a killer beat and even better lyrics. Put this on to appease your scummy hipster friends. 6. L.A. Devotee - Panic! At The Disco This is the perfect song to play while you're getting ready to go out. If you're a pre-gamer, or you take a long time to pick an outfit at least have a killer soundtrack. This is a song that was pre-released for Panic's latest album "Death Of A Bachelor". It will blow you away, even if you're not a Panic! fan. 7. Kilimanjaro - Babyshambles Chug a few beers to this tune and you will be on your way to an incredible night. The drums at the beginning, and the incredible indie vibe of this British band will make your mates turn and say, "wait, what IS that song!?" And you can smile and laugh and say, "Oh, just a recommendation from my favorite person on Vingle, Tess Stevens. It's Babyshambles and it rules." Thanks. Bye. 8. Up The Bracket - The Libertines You didn't think you could escape without a Libs track, now would you? This is one of my favs. An oldie, but a goodie. It kicks off with a scream from Pete Doherty that brings back memories of your wildest college parties. Then, you're launched into a pisser of a 2 minute and something track. Proceed with caution, because this song makes people go hard. Also, eyes off the tall bloke singing. He's mine. ;) 9. My Generation - The Who Another oldie, but goodie. This one used to really get me energized. Something about the universal fact that young people never feel like they're understood. It goes hand in hand in hand for a night of drinking or debauchery. 10. Suffragette City - David Bowie Round off your night with my favorite Bowie track, Suffragette City. Kick it live for that extra bit of oomf. Nothing compares to the Thin White Duke and his energy while playing live. I really love this performance from the '90's because it's got these fun live dancers and it's sped up a little bit too. Now go out. Get messed up. Live.
An Ode To Loserdom: Green Day's Dookie Turns 22
I wasn't one of those kids that grew up with punk in their veins. I discovered Green Day in 2004 when I was 11 years old. Had I known what a profound impact their music would have on me, I'd have gotten to know them a lot sooner. Dookie is a record that I discovered around the same time. Though it was nearly 10 years old when I first heard it, it always seemed fresh to me. That's how you know an album is good, it never gets old. Much like the greats before them, Green Day took punk and turned it into a national treasure for kids who were growing up and out in all the wrong directions. I remember days spent looking out my suburban windows, dreaming of something more, something real. Released on February 1st, 1994, Dookie put music and lyrics to a feeling that most of us have when we're growing up: hopelessness, apathy, loneliness, confusion. These songs take place in a headspace where the future is indefinite, life is going by too slowly and yet everyone is bitching at you to move faster. I had never known anyone else who felt this way, until I listened to Green Day. Although American Idiot set the standard for us millennials as the record that defined our generation politically and culturally, there was something indescribably perfect about Dookie, an album that nearly out aged us all. Songs like "Sassafras Roots" and "Pulling Teeth" bring up those awkward first moments of love and wasting time with someone you might not know in 10 years. "Longview" makes you remember the boredom and isolation of being a young person. "Basket Case" became the anthem for millions of kids who were cast off as undesirable, kooky or too off-kilter to function. These feelings ebb and flow, they grow and change, but underneath everything...including 22 years of shit, they're still there. Burnouts and degenerates of every generation can bond over these songs. Whether you're 13 or 35 some of those feelings still exist. I doubt that they knew this at the time, but when Billie Joe Armstrong, Tre Cool and Mike Dirnt made this record they went down in history as three punks from the Bay (my current home) who changed everything. I'm now a 23 year old working professional. I'm still a musician, and I'm definitely still a punk. I still feel left out and lonely. I still have the same irrational fire and guilt for my generation locked away in my anxiety riddled brain, and whenever I put this record on, I remember that 22 years ago three dudes from the Bay felt the exact same way. In 22 years, both Dookie an I have done a lot of growing up. As more and more kids discover the power of this album, the ones who were there at the beginning are starting families, making money and continuing the legacy of their parents...whom they either resented or just didn't understand in 1994. It's funny how life works. It's so cyclical. Now, as I look out at where I've ended up, I have to credit Green Day, and this album for some of it. The individuality I gained through this music has afforded me incredible opportunities. Green Day helped me develop my world view: embracing the chaos, letting go of the future and reveling in hopeless youth. We're still the same people, just in a different time. And life goes on, losers grow up, but the truth still remains...and its in these songs. This album is still a love letter to all the lost kids out there, and 22 years on, as more and more of us find our way, the band included, there's something really beautiful about being lost. By @TessStevens
The Best Days Of Our Lives: Why Music Lives Forever
When time passes, things change. It's inevitable. Our minds shift from teenage indolence to adult rage. We see things falling apart all around us. The cracks in infallible things start to show. The innocence we experience in our early years of life is too good to be appreciated at the time. 10 years ago, I was a 13 year old ingrate with a chip on my shoulder and a complete disregard for the people around me. I had no idea what the hell I was talking about. I had no idea who the hell I was. I think we were all like that at that age, whether we knew it or not. 10 years is a long time. Accepting that can be difficult. 2015 marks the 10 year anniversary of an album that changed my life forever: Almost Here by Chicago based band The Academy Is... Earlier this year, my very best friends from Cleveland offered me a ticket to their hometown show in Chicago, as my best friend moved there for college, and has found her home. It's a one off tour celebrating the passing of a decade, marked the end of their time as a band, and the end of our time as kids. It was sure to be an amazing time. I was so excited. Then life happened to me, plane tickets too expensive due to holiday greed. Work. Long hours and sleepless nights, the youth fleeing from my body with each step. Bones become older and creekier, the will to get up early is fading. Nothing makes sense. I couldn't go. Not enough money, not enough time. I'd never see one of my favorite bands of all time play live, ever again. That sort of finality punches you in the gut. When bands break up, it doesn't seem like a big deal to the outside world. Yeah, okay, a few musicians decided to call it quits, but to the fan who eat, sleep and breathe music, who hang on every lyric as if it were their own, it's earth shattering. The concept of never hearing those songs live again? It's something akin to mortality. I was sitting alone in my new bedroom in Northern California. My life shaping up to be a filing cabinet for all the hopes and dreams I wish I'd accomplished by this point. Pushing further and further each day, trying to become something a little more than ordinary. I was exhausted. Just ready to collapse into a deep sleep, I saw something on my computer...a tour date. A concert near me. Concerts always breathe life back into me, and for some reason, things just ended up working out. The second to last date of the "Almost Here: 10th Anneversary Tour" would fall on a Tuesday evening at The Regency Ballroom in San Francisco. A place that was exactly 35 minutes from where I was sitting. I raced out to the car to grab my wallet, punched in those little numbers that stand guard over my money and spent it. I would be there. I would go to that concert. The concert I had been waiting for 10 years to see. When The Academy Is...called it quits I was getting ready to start my life. I was 16 in the photo above. lead singer William Beckett was 25ish, bassist Adam Siska, 23? I'm not sure. We were all so young. And we look it too. You never realize how young you really look until you get older, I guess that's a good thing. College was ahead of me, my young twenties were ahead of me. I could have been anything. But as we get older, our options get more limited. We stop searching for what we want. We get tired, we take the table near the door and forget friendship. We are afraid of what we can't control. We're afraid of what we're going to lose. Money becomes a problem, we are motivated by different things. We are made up of action plans and spreadsheets, our passion leaves us. In the faint moments when we can control our doomed youth and look to the future with open eyes, we are fully actualized. I walked into the Regency and it felt like nothing had changed. The same types of people who, at 15, used to flood concert halls around noon camping all day, clamoring for a spot in the front row were wearing 40 dollar distressed T shirts from Urban Outfitters, sipping 10 dollar beers from the ballroom bar. Their faces older, their bodies more plump. You can recognize the signs of aging, an era beaten down by life, taxes, imminent doom. The early 2000's were a hopeful time for this generation. We were just entering high school. Nothing could have stopped us from becoming exactly who we wanted to be, that, and money, time, energy, talent. But we didn't know that. We were idealists. We were riding a beautiful wave of optimism, and right behind that was the music. Taking my place in the crowd made it feel like I had gone back in time. Some people, at the ripe age of 23 would have sat in the balcony, overlooking the crowd below, but I wanted to be in the thick of it. There's nothing like feeling the sweat of your brothers in arms at a concert. Bopping back and forth, the floor vibrating underneath you. It's home. The lights go down, and just with every concert, my heart starts to race. Whether I was fortunate enough to be on stage myself, or merely in the crowd, there is no feeling like it. When you find your true calling in life, it can be heartbreaking, because somewhere deep down, you knew it was never practical. But what does practicality matter anyway? Practicality is what lead singer William Beckett said before playing the last song on Almost Here: "You may never hear this song live again, but don't be sad. We'll make it memorable." Such is life, you never know if you're going to be doing something for the last time, seeing someone for the last time. You never know when your last breath will be. It might as well be with a crowd of sweaty, emotional twenty-somethings as they lay their youth to rest in the middle of San Francisco. We swayed and sang, screamed and mosh, and like yesterday hitting you in the back of the head, it was over. Usually, bands will say, "See you next fall, we'll be on tour with Fall Out Boy, or we'll be headlining..." This time, both the band and the crowd looked at each other for a long time, reverant, respectful. We thanked each other for the good times, for the past 15 years of incredible music and love, laughter and life. We turned a page together. It was heartbreaking, emotional and completely justified. Nothing indulgent, nothing undeserving. It was perfect. [Press Play before continuing] The last song played was "After The Last Midtown Show" an ode to one of The Academy Is...favorite acts breaking up. It was befitting. A slow burner that you could cry to almost instantly if you weren't paying attention, and that's exactly what I did. The music will live forever, it's eternal, but these moments aren't. It's important to celebrate. To live fully through each note, each moment. We must give ourselves these things. The lead singer, William Beckett, bounded into the crowd like it was 2005, drawing in the people who had been hanging on the sides looking and feeling too cool to get emotional. We descended, creating a big circle around each other. It felt like home. Unlike other concerts, toward the end, this one felt like a memorial. Not only for us, but for the band. We had long goodbyes, waving and smiling, laughing and some even cried, myself included. The final words of the chorus rang out and filled the giant Regency Ballroom with echos. Ghostly, like a forgotten call over a lost battlefield, "The best days of our lives." We chanted, over and over, for the last time we sang, as if to commemorate what can never be again: "The best days of our lives." ** If you'd like to hear more about The Academy Is... you can read this article: "Bargaining With Lost Youth: Remembering The Academy Is..." What bands have impacted you?