Bags·Clairo
Three years on and the bridge still gets me every time. Bedroom-pop that earns its restraint.
The home of all my music thoughts & reccomendations.
Not much happened, which is exactly the kind of week these songs are built for. Headphones on, dishes done slowly, the good kind of nothing.
Three years on and the bridge still gets me every time. Bedroom-pop that earns its restraint.
Those staccato keys are pure muscle memory at this point. A perfect song, and I won't be taking questions.
Smooth as ever and that bass still talks — but I put it on once this week and didn't reach for it again.
Anger and tenderness in the same breath. I keep finding new lines to underline.
First properly warm week of the year, so the playlist tilted toward the slow and the smoky. Honest takes below — not everything made the cut.
Summer in a bottle. I save it for the first warm evening of the year and let it wreck me a little.
The bassline could still pay rent, but I think I've finally worn this one all the way out. Fine, not essential.
Rainy-window music for a warm night. Smoky, slow, and impossibly cool.
No songs this week — just a feeling I'm still carrying around. I caught a band I'd half-forgotten in a room that held maybe two hundred people, and for ninety minutes nobody once reached for their phone. You forget that's even possible.
There's a version of a song you love that only exists in a small room, slightly too loud, with strangers singing the part you usually keep to yourself. I don't have a link for that. You just have to go. Back to the rotation next week.