Cool Things To Listen To
This month, I’ve become a walker. Walking is something I’m doing more of ever since I badly sprained my ankle and can no longer run. I prefer to walk around 4:00 p.m. — a frustrating hour when I feel lethargic and restless at the same time. My dog and I set off on our typical route, about 2 miles, through nearby neighborhoods and along our quaint downtown strip. The sun sits low behind the trees, and the sky is a pungent blue. The air feels quiet and crisp: cold in the shade, warm in the sun. There aren’t many people out. The ambitious walkers were here at sunrise, and the hustle of the lunchtime crowds have come and gone. I walk with the stragglers, people with the privilege to take a walk in the late afternoon. We walk with trepidation, unsure if we really want to be doing it in the first place.
As someone who usually has little spare time, walking feels indulgent. I’m used to frantically performing a circuit workout in a depressingly small crevice of my garage or sprinting out the door for a quick jog. I thought walks were something bored unathletic people did. I’ve since discovered that a walk is good no matter your motivations or physical abilities. Even with my newfound appreciation, I struggle with high expectations. Should I be walking faster? A “real” walker would walk farther. I should listen to my thoughts instead of drowning them out in music. I don’t have time for this! But I know none of it matters. A walk is a walk: short, long, loud, quiet, in company, or alone — a walk doesn’t judge.
Still, I can’t help but think that the true walkers are the ones I see from afar, comfortable and confident in their stride. These walkers don’t rely on technology’s distractions. They’re open. They’ve given themselves up freely to their walks, whereas I’m closed-off. I listen to music loudly on my headphones and clutch my phone tightly in my hand. If I walked with no distractions, would I be more creative? More fulfilled? It’s possible. But I’m new at this. Maybe with more miles under my feet, I’ll become a walker whose vulnerability leads the way.
If, like me, you need the comfort of sound while walking (or doing anything), here are some recommendations:
Music
MOONDOG
Louis Thomas Hardin (aka Moondog) was an eccentric blind and homeless musician whose incredible talent led him to become a well-respected composer, poet, and philosopher. Also known as “The Viking of 6th Ave,” Moondog’s street poetry and otherworldly music attracted the attention of Janis Joplin, David Bowie, Allen Ginsberg, Elvis Costello, and Phillip Glass.
There’s something mysterious and magical about his music. Partly it’s his story, but mostly it’s his avant-garde experiments with classical, jazz, and folk sounds. His music defies classification — which is what I find so appealing. The more I listen, the more enamored I become. I can’t wait to see the documentary!
Here are a few favorites:
Nala Sinephro | Space 1.8
Nala Sinephro’s album “Space 1.8” is brilliant. Her soft, ambient jazz is hypnotic, absorbing — a juxtaposition of sounds from the harp, saxophone, percussions, and synthesizer that swirl together in a tapestry of cosmic delight.
This is an expansive, groundbreaking debut from a talented young woman.
Michelle Zauner:
I recently finished the heartbreaking and beautiful memoir by the musical artist behind Japanese Breakfast, Michelle Zauner. It was so engrossing I had to download the audiobook so I could listen when I didn’t have the time to sit and read. Her story of growing up as Korean American, of losing her mother, and becoming an artist was both inspiring and relatable.
Japanese Breakfast
While listening to Crying in H Mart, immerse yourself in Michelle’s dreamy indie pop albums. Start with Psychopomp “Everyone Wants to Love You,” then move on to Soft Sounds from Another Planet, “Till Death,” and finish with Jubilee, “Tactics,” and “Be Sweet.”
Past Listen Lists:
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