I make music and occasionally write things.
I contributed a bit about my favorite album of the year to Like What You Like’s Albums of the Year episode. Check out the listener submissions at the end for mine and the full episode for all of their great recommendations.
And don’t worry — my annual wrap-up post is still coming (probably after Christmas).
Some highlights from this year’s Riot Fest. This one felt really special. I saw a couple reunions I’ve been dreaming of (Rilo Kiley, Texas Is the Reason), screamed my voice out at my 31st Wonder Years show, and so much more. I sang “Lord, to be 33 forever” along with The Hold Steady and was so genuinely inspired and reminded that I can still make cool art as I get older. I got to see Harrison Gordon — kids who used to open for my bands — up on the main stage shouting out “fucking Normal, Illinois” and felt so proud of the lineage of DIY in my hometown. Even though the crowd and schedule delays messed up some plans (I will catch Weird Al next time, I swear), it was an experience I won’t forget. Shout out to the friends who hung out with me all weekend and the ones I didn’t run into. I’m already looking forward to next year.
“They gave me a stage and a microphone. They put it on Amazon Prime. So before we get out of here I gotta say three things: I gotta say protect trans youth. I gotta say fuck ICE. And with my whole fucking chest, I gotta say free Palestine!”
I nearly teared up watching this. It was Father’s Day, and I was holding Lily. To see my favorite band on the biggest stage in the scene, shouting out their kids and then shouting loud about the most important issues of the day, it meant something. It meant there are other people out there who want to make a better world for ourselves and for our neighbors and for the next generation. Sometimes I need that reminder.
“I’m gonna go, start to dig, plant a seed, keep the birds away. I’m gonna grow you a place safer than this.”
A few days ago, Liesi and I took Elliot to the park by our house to enjoy the year’s last offering of nice weather. 50 degrees at the golden hour in final throes of December — maybe it’s climate change, or just Illinois being Illinois, but you have to take advantage of those days when you get them. It felt like a lot of days this past fall, the best October weather we’ve had in years. Elliot was laughing like a madman while I rolled a soccer ball down a slide at him, and the year kind of snapped into place.
It was a full year, to say the least. Elliot is 18 months old now, and getting out of the newborn/infant stage and into full-on toddler mode has made parenting genuinely fun for me. Exhausting at times, sure, but seeing his personality grow and develop fills me with joy every day. We’re expecting our second in February, so the back half of the year has been a whirlwind of nerves and excitement and preparation to be a family of four.
This year also marked a decade of being what I’d call a real adult. 2014 was the year I released my first album, started dating Liesi, graduated college, went on my first tour, moved to Chicago, started my career, saw Jimmy Eat World play “23” on my 23rd birthday. I ticked off all of those “ten years ago” milestones with mixed feelings. Fondness for that year and all the growth it started, of course, but tinged with the regret that I didn’t take every chance or go through every door that was open to me then. I worry that I haven’t done enough, that, despite all the good in my life, I haven’t accomplished everything my 23-year old self had hoped I would. (Unsurprisingly, my favorite album of the year has something to say about that, but more on that below).
I think that’s a normal feeling at this age, especially for parents. There’s a sense of so many doors closing as you rearrange your life and priorities around your new tiny human. There’s less time for all the things I’d like to make and see and do, the things that, a decade ago, formed the basis of who I am and how I see myself. I feel more acutely than ever that I’m rebuilding and reshaping myself every day. I struggle with the balance sometimes, but I know what I want: I want to be the best father and husband and friend that I can be, and I want to stay curious and hungry and creative. I hope that I can.
And on to the lists. I always rank these (except for the one year when I didn’t), but everything on here comes highly recommended by me. Watch something, read something, listen to something.
My Year On Last.fm
Though it’s not the case every year, this list mostly lines up with my most played albums of the year. That’s probably how it should be. These were the albums I came back to over and over again, not what I heard once or twice and felt like “should” be on a top ten list. When I read back through my past lists, the “I guess this should be here” picks always stand out as some kind of posturing to be “cool” or “right” when I am rarely either.
If you know me at all, my top two albums probably aren’t a surprise. In Lieu of Flowers is the third album Wonder Years frontman Dan Campbell has made under the Aaron West moniker, and it’s easily the best. I’m not sure there’s a more cathartic moment to be found on this list than the bridge of “Monongahela Park.” I hope it’s not the last we hear from Aaron, but if it is, In Lieu of Flowers leaves the character in a satisfying place.
Maxwell Stern has become one of my favorite songwriters over the past five years, both as a solo artist and in Signals Midwest. His second solo album, In the Good Light, is a lush, engrossing collection of songs about falling in love and making peace with your past. There’s a thread of community and connection that runs through it, and every line about a friend or a loved one conjures up the face of someone in my own life that I should definitely call up and check in on. I could make a case for a few different best tracks, but “You Deserve a Great Love” is particularly noteworthy. It’s a resonant rocker with a bridge that recalls Elvis Costello, and I played it constantly in the second half of the year as a mantra, a hug, a reminder not to be so hard on myself.
Honorable Mention/The Only EP I Really Loved This Year: Anika Pyle – Four Corners
My comprehensive spreadsheet of every show I’ve been to.
I played or attended 30 shows this year. When venues opened up again after the Covid shutdowns, I made an effort to focus on seeing bands I hadn’t seen before or might never get a chance to see again. This year I swung back in the opposite direction, and all of my favorite shows were artists I’ve seen many times before. It’s just more fun to scream songs you love than fill out a checklist.
My year on Letterboxd
As with every year, caveat that I haven’t seen a bunch of big November and December releases yet. I’ll probably update this closer to the Oscars when I’ve hopefully seen all of the major contenders, but this is the list for now. Overall, I think this was a really good movie year, and Dune: Part 2 on opening day with the Hans Zimmer score literally shaking my seat was a top tier moviegoing experience.
My year on Trakt
I went into this year with the plan of not starting new TV shows. As the streaming model has pushed so much TV into longer episodes and shorter seasons, I think a lot of the magic of TV has faded. Focusing on the shows I’m already excited about seemed like a better use of TV time than adding a whole bunch of new shows just to keep up. Of course, I made a couple exceptions. I did watch the long awaited (though ultimately middling) Netflix adaptation of The Three-Body Problem, the consensus critical favorite Shōgun, and obviously the Star Wars shows. In lieu of keeping up with new TV, I watched all of Twin Peaks — a beautiful and at times frustrating journey — and went way back to the beginning of The Twilight Zone, which continues to surprise and delight as I meander through the classic seasons.
My year on Goodreads
I read 35 books this year (including a handful of short stories/novellas that I logged individually). That’s a bit higher than my number on Goodreads, which is missing a few things I counted, like Dan Campbell’s new poetry chapbook and the extensive hardbound liner notes to Adjy’s The Idyll Opus (I-VI).
No list of 2024 releases, as usual — it would only have two books on it — but these were my favorite reads of the year.
Finally, my favorite lyric of the year, from “In the Good Light” by Maxwell Stern.
God damn, don’t let me do that dance of
“I wonder what I could have been?”
Like I’ll never hit the halcyon heights of joy that I knew back then
A heart filled up with motion, baby
I am leaning in to a brilliant beacon in the distance
Praying: “If there’s a moment, don’t you miss it. Amen.”
After doing a few guest spots on friends’ podcasts (and listening to untold hours of podcasts over the past decade), I decided to start my own.
It’s called Noise Floor. It’s a music podcast, where Matt Kistler and I talk music through the lens of our favorite artists’ discographies.
I often joke that the best podcasts are the ones that the hosts have been doing off-mic for years. That’s absolutely what this is — basically a continuation of the conversations Matt and I have all the time. We’ve been having a ton of fun with it so far, and you can hear the first episode today. New episodes weekly, so subscribe here.
If you’re an avid reader of the credits section on Bandcamp (or this blog), you probably know that I have produced and mixed almost everything Pelafina has ever released (with the exception of Familiar Places — all credit goes to Nick Stetina for that one). In a way, our discography is a living diary of me learning how to do this stuff. I’m also an inveterate tinkerer who isn’t ever really happy with anything I make. Nothing is ever done, only released, and occasionally something we released nags at me enough to take another shot at it. A couple months ago, I did a new mix of “Milestone,” our single from last year. We quietly snuck it out there this week (replacing the old one, George Lucas-style), so check it out to hear what we think is a much better version of this song.
Trying something new. Drums by Matt Kistler. Everything else by me.
This Page Intentionally Left Blank. Rebuilding Year.
Stream/download/tapes on Bandcamp.
This EP is mostly about things that happened a decade ago, and I felt a decade younger making it. We DIY’d everything: Recording it in my basement, dubbing tapes on my old tape deck, printing and cutting and numbering the J-cards ourselves. I tried to do something without expectations, without listening to nagging voice in my head telling me that I shouldn’t or couldn’t make something that was just for me. Thanks to Matt for helping me realize it, and thank you for listening.
Pelafina has another new song out today. “Twist the Knife” has been a long time in the making — we might even have started working on it pre-pandemic. I think the time paid off though, especially in the mix, which is probably my favorite yet.
Ten years ago this weekend, Modus Aurora released The Ghosts Inside of Us, our only full-length album and, in a way, my college thesis.
My high school band didn’t survive the senior summer and my high school relationship didn’t last much longer, so I was a little directionless when John and I started trading song ideas in the lounge at Munsell Hall. He was into U2 and played like The Edge, and I envisioned a soaring indie rock band with shimmering guitars and huge choruses, something bigger than any band I had played in before. We were fast friends and good collaborators, and when it felt like it was working, we recruited Katie and Cale to fill out the lineup. Through 2011 and 2012, we released a self-titled EP and a couple demos.
We also played a lot, mostly with bands that sounded nothing like us. Basement shows with punk bands, coffee shops with hardcore bands, school events with cover bands. We got to open for some of our heroes (Spitalfield, The Forecast, State Lines, The Front Bottoms, Real Friends) and made lifelong friends in that mismatched local scene.
There wasn’t really a specific starting point for The Ghosts Inside of Us. Some of the songs had been kicking around for a while, and some were written late in the process. I think we recorded it from late 2012 through mid-2013, but I don’t know for sure. I strangely have very few specific memories of making the album. Since the “studio” was just my parents’ house, where we hung out and practiced and did laundry most weekends anyway, it all kind of blends together.
When it came time for mixing and mastering, we reached out to Matt Kennedy. He had played guitar in The Graduate, the greatest band to ever come out of central Illinois and probably the only band that the four us universally agreed on.
We celebrated the album release with a huge free show at Firehouse with all of our friends. I played three sets in a row (the first Troyathalon?). It wasn’t exactly a triumph — John’s amp blew a fuse and we played pretty badly. My most vivid memory of the night is waving to Liesi from the stage. We didn’t know each other well yet, but I was so excited she was there. Ten years later, that certainly worked out.
The writing was probably on the wall for the band at that point. When we finally released The Ghosts Inside of Us, John and I were in our last semester of college. Katie was already living in Chicago, and I was making plans to move there. John was headed to Florida. Cale had two more years of school left. We only played one more show and recorded two more songs, which were probably our best work. Seems like it always happens that way — not with a bang but with a whimper.
So much of my time in college is wrapped up in this band and this album. The friends I still see and the ones I haven’t talked to since graduation. The songs written in dorm rooms on yard sale guitars that wouldn’t stay in tune. The shows, whether in basements or on big stages. The time spent trying to get people to listen and to care as much as I did about the music. I don’t regret a second of it.
If you were there, thank you for being a part of it all. If you want to listen, all of our music is up on Bandcamp and the various streaming services. I’m sure I still have a box of the CDs somewhere.
“Who am I without the lie of who I want to be?”
“Some days there’s just so much to marvel at, and some days you’re at the bottom of a pit.”
This was a year that fit that Spanish Love Songs lyric a little too well, a year where I felt the highs and the lows more acutely than ever. There were the panic attacks and the days I felt like I couldn’t get out of bed, the satisfaction of finally releasing a new album and the thrill of playing it live to a packed Gman Tavern, the whirlwind of Elliot’s birth and figuring out the basics of being a parent, the utter exhaustion of those first few months, and the unquantifiable joy of his first smiles.
It’s been a lot, but I am so lucky and I don’t want to lose sight of that.
My year on Last.fm. It’s been really cool to follow Spanish Love Songs over the past six years as they’ve shed the trappings of pop punk a little bit more on each album. This is the third time they’ve topped my year end list, and I think No Joy is their best work yet.
As usual, the ranking of the rest of the list is just what I’m feeling today. I recommend all of these, from the relative newcomers (Awakebutstillinbed, OrigamI Angel) to reunited old favorites. For a long time, I didn’t think we’d ever get new music from The Gaslight Anthem, Fall Out Boy, or Yellowcard, three bands that fundamentally shaped my tastes as a teenager. All three are back, seemingly more excited than ever.
On the EP side, John K. Samson released new music under name Vivat Virtute, so no one else really had a chance at my number one spot there. Even if there’s never a Weakerthans reunion, I hope he continues making these perfect little snapshots of local politics and cats forever.
I also made a Spotify playlist with my favorite songs from each of these releases, plus a handful of other singles.
I played or attended 26 shows this year. My days of getting to 80 or more are probably behind me, but I can live with that if the shows I do see are as special as these. Liesi and I saw The Wonder Years together in March and got to hear most of our favorite songs from The Hum Goes On Forever, a record largely about becoming a parent that has, unsurprisingly, meant a lot to us this year. Then I saw them again in October playing all of The Greatest Generation. I lost my voice screaming along to “I Just Want To Sell Out My Funeral” with old friends and new.
My year on Letterboxd. I’ve seen 42 movies from this year. I didn’t get to the theater much, especially after Elliot was born, so I missed out on the full Barbenheimer experience. There’s a lot I still want to see, but I think this was a really solid year for movies.
My year on Trakt. This was feeling like a bit of a slow TV year until November, when there was a deluge of new shows and new seasons. Some of these are still ongoing as of this writing, but I’ve seen enough to feel like I can rank them, and certainly enough to recommend them. Same caveat as with movies: There’s a bunch of stuff I haven’t seen yet (namely the Doctor Who specials) that could easily make this list if I re-do it in a few months.
My year on Goodreads. I read 27 books this year (only one actually released in 2023), and these were my favorites. Pale Fire was a recommendation from a friend, and aside from being a masterwork of language, it was neat to read as an influence on House of Leaves (and to find all the lyrics The Menzingers have lifted from it).
Troy Sennett 