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Taurus season is starting with a bang. My birthday is less than two weeks away, but it feels like this past week was the birthday with everything that went live. But before we get into that, the past month has been action-packed. I spoke on a social media panel with Elizabeth. That was the first time we’ve ever gotten to do something like that together. A tree fell on our fence, so that was wild. I went to Austin for a creative retreat. It’s probably my favorite thing I’ve done in a while, and I wrote more about it here. Traveled to Indy for the men’s Final Four and National Championship. All my teams lost, but at least we had fun. Then, that brings us to this past week.

I’ve heard people talk about how there’s New Year’s, and then, there’s the real new year. That’s how this past week has felt. I spent the first few months of the year chipping away at a few things. Now, I see what I was working toward. I had a lot of fun things come out this week, so I’ll drop a list below just in case you missed them:

1. For ’s Track Ten newsletter, I wrote an essay about the throughline of R&B and Black music in Justin Bieber’s career. This is my contribution to Resurrection, a collaborative collection with Eric, , and that traces moments in pop stars’ careers when they rise from the ashes. I had fun writing on Journals and how it makes SWAG possible.

Track Ten

The Question of Justin Bieber's Soul | Track Ten: Resurrection

If you’re reading Track Ten for the first time, welcome! Today’s essay by Alex Lewis is part of Resurrection, my collaborative collection which traces moments in which pop stars rise from the ashes, whether th…

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8 days ago · 18 likes · 8 comments · Eric and Alex Lewis

2. interviewed me for her newsletter’s Well Worn series. She asked me several questions about bravery that made me think deeply and gave some clarity about myself. I think you should read it, but don’t just take it from me. said:

   “Wow wow wow. I devoured this! Alex is new to me but I immediately went and subscribed. Such beautiful words about bravery, had me tearing up.”

i think it's brave:

well worn: alex lewis

This week, we are joined by Alex Lewis, a writer who has been on Substack since 2023, and whose trajectory is due to a lot of hard work, consistency and community building. I remember the first time I went back and forth with Alex on Substack, it was over Love Island. I thought to myself, who is this man, so fervently knowledgeable about this reality show!? Then …

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5 days ago · 32 likes · 9 comments

3. My dear friend Jaden Shah, one of the people who has helped shape The Album Club from the beginning, invited me to curate a playlist for his radio show, WaveSpace. That episode is out today, and I hope you love it. I’ve had the playlist on repeat in my personal life and think you’ll enjoy it, too.

Also, I interviewed Julien and Justen Turner of Dreadhead Films for my debut on the Experience Columbus blog. The Turner brothers premiered the comedy pilot for their show, FreeLance, at Sundance earlier this year. I’m thankful I got to share how Columbus has played an integral part in their story.

Alright, that’s all the plugs. I love you and hope you have a wonderful week. More goodness below.

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🎤 Dave’s Power 106 Freestyle

Hanif shared this on his Instagram Story, and man, I’m so glad I tapped in. There’s a lot of talk about entering “flow state” right now, but this is exactly that. Dave blacks tf out for damn near seven minutes. I want you to go listen for yourself, but here are a few of the lines that made me smile like Keith David:

• “If I pass down my hustle, I can leave my kids nothin’ and they still be rich”

• “I need antidepressants for the doors on my cars”

• “We do Indian when it suits her, like Kamala Harris”

• “I ain’t even bein’ sassy, but I really ate with that”

📖 The Serviceberry by Robin Wall Kimmerer

Shoutout to for putting me on to this book. It starts with one of my favorite quotes from Robin Wall Kimmerer: “All flourishing is mutual.” She goes in depth on the “gift economy,” which she views not only as an ethic of reciprocity, but as a reshaping of our entire world. A revolt against imperialist, white-supremacist capitalist patriarchy. Kimmerer asks one of the more important questions of our time: “When an economic system actively destroys what we love, isn’t it time for a different system?”

I’m so grateful this book exists and appreciate how it gives an abundance of language for what it means to show up for each other and choose interdependence over individualism.

🥤 Shirley Temple prebiotic sodas

Elizabeth and I are known to sometimes forgo the fancy cocktail when we go out to dinner and order Shirley Temples instead. Yes, we’re aware of the ever-alluring Dirty Shirley. But sometimes you just want the syrupy goodness of grenadine floating around an ice-cold Sprite. One-to-two Maraschino cherries, of course. I’d go on record to say it’s maybe the drink of my lifetime. A friend that has stuck by my side since early days at the kids’ table.

What is inner child work if not co-opting my adolescence for the purposes of gut health? The new craze of Shirley Temple-flavored prebiotic sodas has descended upon our home like the plague of locusts. We taste-tested three different brands: Poppi, Bloom Pop, and the most confusing one, Stiller’s, which I guess is Ben Stiller’s soda brand? Who knew? No one needs to know because it’s bad. But I actually really like the Poppi and Bloom Pop versions.

Elizabeth’s favorite is Bloom Pop. I prefer Poppi, but the Bloom Pop is a close second. The caf at the office is stocked with Poppis, so they’re my work friends. And then we keep a case of Bloom Pops at the house, so they’re who I come home to. Both are good. Both are necessary. All of them aren’t the real thing.

🥰 Jill Scott & Tyler

When Jill Scott told Tyler, “You look like you’ve been loved,” I felt that. What a beautiful thing to see in someone and speak to them. This whole conversation is a balm. I love how they see each other throughout. I love the mutual admiration they have for one another. The smiles they bring out of each other. Jill telling Tyler that her son is dope and reminds her of him. Tyler eating that up. This is intergenerational. This is reaching backward, reaching forward, resting in the warm embrace of Black artistry.

🏜️ “We got Coachella at home”

Let’s start with a confession: I stayed up for Bieberchella two weekends in a row.

The second confession is that I’m happy I did.

And the third confession: I’m still suffering the consequences.

I don’t have too many things to say about the Justin Bieber performance that haven’t already been said (or that I haven’t already written about), but I do think it was the perfect way to honor this current stage in his career and where he came from, as well as the fans that have supported him from the start.

It was good to see Justin approach these weekends thoughtfully, especially within his preparation. Touring has been an Achilles’ heel for Justin throughout his career. I’m sure part of that had to do with the people he had around him—many of which he’s since cut ties with. But instead of pushing himself to exhaustion, Justin picked his spots. He did trial run performances on Twitch and did a small run of LA shows leading up to Coachella, and of course, there was his Grammys performance. It all paid off with the most confident version of Justin we’ve seen in a while. I’m not fully opposed to a tour if that’s what he wants to do, but I hope he took notes from Kendrick & SZA and pops up in a few major cities instead of doing a full-blown world tour. Ease in, and enjoy the moment.

My surprise for the weekend was ZULAN’s set. I had never heard of the Argentinian DJ, but I shot up as soon as I heard snippets of “4EVER” and “Gasolina.” ZULAN had a whole crew of festival attendees behind her like a Boiler Room set while she vibed out in a vintage Boca Juniors jersey. The energy was infectious, and so was ZULAN’s festival look. I ended up snagging my own CABJ kit on Depop. Only issue is they spelled “Maradona” wrong. And that’s why I still stand behind Depop being the bravest place to shop on the internet. Joke’s on me, I guess.

A few other highlights from my two-week binge of Coachella livestreams:

• Dijon and Mk.gee on Weekend 1 (and them both popping out during Bieber’s performance)

• Turnstile, plus extra points for how lit the crowd was

• GIVĒON bringing out Kehlani to sing “Folded” and looking so giddy the entire time

• Kacey Musgraves with the surprise set at Weekend 2

• Addison bringing out Olivia Rodrigo to sing “drop dead”

Sleeper pick: Teddy Swims and Joe Jonas singing “When You Look Me in the Eyes”

I hope someone told you they love you today. If not, hear it from me: I love you. Then, go look in the mirror and say it again.

I’m dropping in to announce that we’ll join back together on May 4th for our next meeting of The Album Club — a monthly gathering for music nerds and those looking to connect with each other. I host these sessions on the first Monday of every month in partnership with The Scatter Joy Project, a mental health nonprofit making care and resources more accessible.

Picture a book club, but for music. That’s the Album Club. We usually discuss one album in full. The sound, the lyrics, the stories. During our last session, we paid tribute to D’Angelo and his seminal album, Voodoo.

Our next album is Dijon’s Baby. The homies & suggested this project and will be guiding our discussion. Come through for your new favorite hangout!

RSVP here

Baby is Dijon’s second studio album. Released last August, Baby follows up the Maryland native’s 2021 debut album, Absolutely, with an ode to his wife and their son, Baby. In reaching for vanguards like D’Angelo and Radiohead, Dijon starts from a place of messing everything up. Instead of perfection, he chases feeling and lets emotion seep through every pore. Dijon follows the moment wherever it may lead—and in turn, he establishes new moments and creative standards that artists will chase for years to come.

Starting this Saturday, April 25th, we’re launching The Album Club: Listening Room on the last Saturday of every month. These informal gatherings will provide us an opportunity to sip coffee and listen to our featured album ahead of each Album Club meeting. No RSVP needed. Just show up as yourself, and start your weekend off right!

Dijon is a universe unto himself, but here are a few links to better understand him as an artist and his latest album, Baby. Thanks to , , , and more for sharing their suggestions. You can check out more and drop your own recommendations here!

• Essay: Feels Like Home

• Interview: Apple Music

• Interview: Over/Under for Pitchfork

• Interview: Producer Tommy King for Dead Wax

• Interview: Thoughtseize

• Performance: “Another Baby!” on SNL

• Performance: “HIGHER!” on SNL

• Performance: “Kindalove” at Coachella 2026

• Profile: Brick Magazine

• Profile: Pitchfork

• Review: Shatter the Standards

• Short Film: Absolutely

The Album Club meets at The Scatter Joy Storefront, located at 986 North High Street, in Columbus’ Short North Arts District. The multi-purpose space is cozy, welcoming, and made just for you. Whether you’ve recently listened to the featured album or you’re returning to it after a while, come as you are!

The event is free for all attendees thanks to support from The Scatter Joy Project. We just ask that you RSVP in advance, so we can plan accordingly. Hope to see you there!

Reserve your spot

When you faint, there’s no worrying about who’s not there.

I’ve passed out on airplanes and in restaurants and at my homie’s crib, which is to say I’ve opened my eyes to all kinds of people.

There was the horror on the face of my little sister as she ran from the sight of my vomit-covered shoes. There was the physician with the annoying kids and the ER nurse who rubbed Elizabeth’s back and told her it was going to be okay. Her and her family offered to cover our dinner before the restaurant owner told them it was on him. He got Elizabeth’s number so he could make sure everything was okay, and weeks later, we sent him a box of ice cream to say thank you for everything.

Just recently, I’ve started to realize how deeply disorienting it is to not be in control of my body. I have very little understanding of what my body does when I faint and no sense of what’s happening around me. In most cases, I just wake up to help.

The help usually comes in a series of rushed questions, but it’s help nonetheless.

What’s your name? Where are you? What day is it?

Elizabeth knew I’d be alright when the paramedic asked me who the president was and I spat back his name with the venom only one can produce when that president wants to grind you and your people into a powder that has no chance at concealing his burnt leather face.

I didn’t get a choice of who was there or what I’d be met with when I opened my eyes. There is no who’s who or what’s what. Who is who, and what is what, and I am simply lying before you in a pool of sweat wondering if this is real life or a dream.

I’ve asked that same question during the past few days. After two years of my homie telling me I should go, I finally gave in and traveled to Austin for a creative retreat he hosts. I was joined by other artists, and all he asked is that we were open to better understanding ourselves and each other.

On the first night, we went one by one and told everybody something about ourselves. I shared with most folks that I’m a chronic fainter. I had no reason for sharing this other than inadvertently explaining all the water I’d be drinking and, as a result, my many bathroom trips. They shared themselves with me and kept sharing themselves with me, and I lingered on the last night despite my early flight because I wanted to keep hearing their laughs and stories and soak up what I could.

In trying to communicate how concerning these fainting spells are but also how mundane they can be, I shared about the time I fainted on a plane and no one noticed. I woke up in a cold sweat, and it was the first time I didn’t wake up to a frenzy. Even though I dread the chaos, I know that, if I was with these people, they’d see me. I wouldn’t be the tree that falls in the woods with no one to hear. We’d make a sound.

When my friend asked me to go on this retreat, I didn’t ask who’s going to be there. I rarely do. Fainting has taught me that who’s there is there, and I don’t have much of a say in who will be there for me. My very living is a belief that there will be helpers.

And this week, I saw something I think I’ve always known: artists see.

Thank God for the artists—the ones who are there.

I hope that, wherever you are, you’re feeling the sun on your face. I’m dropping in to announce that we’ll join back together on April 6th for our next meeting of The Album Club — a monthly gathering for music nerds and those looking to connect with each other. I host these sessions on the first Monday of every month in partnership with The Scatter Joy Project, a mental health nonprofit making care and resources more accessible.

Picture a book club, but for music. That’s the Album Club. We usually discuss one album in full. The sound, the lyrics, the stories. During our last session, we discussed Saint Cloud by Waxahatchee, and I still can’t stop myself from listening.

Our next album is D’Angelo’s Voodoo. My dear friend suggested this project and will be guiding our discussion. Come through for your new favorite hangout!

RSVP here

Voodoo is the second of three albums released by D’Angelo during his lifetime and is largely considered to be the musician’s magnum opus. Released at the top of the millennium in January 2000, Voodoo reaches into the past while guiding us toward the future. D’Angelo, originally from Richmond, Virginia, sidestepped the “neo-soul” label in favor of making what he referred to as “Black music.” With the heartbreaking news of his death last October at the age of 51, Voodoo becomes even more crucial as we cherish the gift of D’Angelo’s living.

This is hardly skimming the surface, but here are a few links to better understand D’Angelo & Voodoo. Thanks to , , , and more for sharing their suggestions. Included a few of my favorite tributes from & !

• Essay: Clarissa Brooks for Chaotic Good

• Essay: Questlove for Rolling Stone

• Essay: Shanté for things i collected

• Documentary: Devil’s Pie

• Docuseries: Bonnaroo SuperJam 2012

• Interview: Red Bull Music Academy

• Liner Notes: Voodoo Vinyl Re-Release

• Music Video: Untitled (How Does It Feel)

• Performance: Live at North Sea Jazz Festival (2015)

• Podcast: 60 Songs that Explain the 90s

The Album Club meets at The Scatter Joy Storefront, located at 986 North High Street, in Columbus’ Short North Arts District. The multi-purpose space is cozy, welcoming, and made just for you. Whether you’ve recently listened to the featured album or you’re returning to it after a while, come as you are!

The event is free for all attendees thanks to support from The Scatter Joy Project. We just ask that you RSVP in advance, so we can plan accordingly. Hope to see you there!

Reserve your spot

Welcome to the new Take It or Leave It. Every month, sometimes a few times a month, Paid subscribers will receive a quick hit of things I’m loving.

Most of my writing is long-form and requires time for research between essays. Hopefully, this helps fill in the gaps for you with new finds (or things you want to revisit).

If not, all good. Take it or leave it ✌️

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Me and were grabbing coffee the other day, and she asked me how I was doing. I try to avoid “busy” as the default answer, but a generous reframing is that my life is very full. I told Jessica how I have a few key commitments, but they are things I care about deeply. I enjoy putting time and energy into them and try to keep them as sacred as I can.

I feel committed to art at this time. Our practice of it. Our participation in it. Our gathering around it. Lucille Clifton said she thinks that “most artists create in order to explore, not to give the answers.” She continued, “Poetry and art are not about answers to me; they are about questions.”

As the United States and Israel continue their imperial war on the world, including all of us, I look to art as a way to better understand myself and the people around me. I look to art as a way to question what I’ve been handed and explore possibilities beyond it. I look to art, as Ross Gay does, as the “process by which we imagine the lives that we want.”

In Columbus, there’s been an ongoing push to maximize capital at the expense of art. Scott Woods recognizes that “Columbus isn’t special in this respect.” He adds, “America as a whole spends very little on the art that it generates.”

As artists, we find a way to keep showing up for ourselves and each other even when our city officials don’t. I get to see it in big and small ways nearly every day. Art remains because we remain, and I hope we can fight to make our remaining easier in the days and months and weeks ahead.

In case you missed it, my latest newsletter essay dives into Justin Bieber’s career and examines his 2026 Grammys performance as a response to it all. This is now one of my top-10 most popular essays, and it’s received endorsements like this one from :

“I love how you’re always able to weave the personal into culture and make it relatable to us all! Your writing is a gift, I loved reading every word of this.”

If you’re new to my newsletter and would like to get my essays and monthly obsessions sent directly to your email inbox, tap below to sign up for a Free or Paid subscription to Feels Like Home:

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💿 Everywhere Isn’t Texas by August Ponthier

I’m back on my bullshit (aka trying to thoughtfully listen to as much new music as I can). My recent favorite that I’ve been recommending to anyone who might entertain it is ’s new album, Everywhere Isn’t Texas. I didn’t realize when I first listened, but Ponthier is featured on one of my favorite songs from last year: “Jesus and John Wayne” with & googly eyes.

The country-pop artist, who came out as non-binary before finishing the album, explores themes of home and belonging that fit right in with songs from Oladokun and Hayley Williams that I highlighted in this essay. On the surface, there are glimpses of other twangy pop stars, such as Kacey Musgraves, Taylor Swift, Chappell Roan, and Sabrina Carpenter. But Ponthier’s superpower is their relatability.

On “Ribbons + Taxes,” the young adult anthem, Ponthier sings, “Right now, my mom would be a wife, but I’d feel like a child bride.” So many of us are trying to make sense of our place in a world that, as Ponthier notes, feels like it’s ending. This album, at least, provides us with a soundtrack to see it through.

🏀 Bam Adebayo’s 83-Point Game

I didn’t watch the game, but I felt it. The push notifications on my phone felt like the sizzle, then just like that chef used to say: “BAM!” The record books were cooked. Whenever a player starts inching toward Kobe’s 81-point milestone, there’s always this question of “what if they do it?” But everyone has fallen short—that is, until A’ja Wilson’s boyfriend caught a vibe and made it everyone else’s problem (mainly the Washington Wizards).

Read more

On the first Monday of every month, I gather with a room full of people here in Columbus, Ohio, to discuss an album in depth. Together with my friends at The Scatter Joy Project, we introduced The Album Club back in October 2025 as a way to create more opportunities for togetherness and connection. Since then, we’ve hosted genre-spanning conversations on projects like Bon Iver’s SABLE, fABLE and Ravyn Lenae’s Bird’s Eye.

I first learned about album clubs — or “book clubs, but for music” — on Substack. I tapped in with when I saw his chordinnate album club was hosting a virtual conversation on Bon Iver’s first and last albums. As a fan of these records, I decided to give it a try. What I found was a group of people who were passionate about music and shared interesting perspectives I hadn’t thought about before. I felt free to geek out and knew I’d do whatever I could to be at the next one.

From virtual discussions to trying my hand at in-person gatherings, I’ve seen a genuine excitement for album clubs. Here in Columbus, we’ve had a waitlist for every meeting. As people have caught wind of these events, I’ve started hearing from folks in different cities who want to start their own. If this is you, here are some questions for you to consider as you begin exploring what’s possible.

1. Is there an Album Club that already exists?

When starting anything, my first question is whether something like it is already happening. While I’m comfortable leading, I don’t need to be the one in charge. I can gain just as much—if not more—by participating in different communities. I think we miss out when we jump to lead instead of supporting organizations that are already in motion and helping them thrive.

While I saw local record stores hosting listening parties, which I love attending when I can, I wasn’t aware of any album discussion groups in town. This felt like a gap we could help fill. I’m still involved with the chordinnate album club and join their virtual meetings when I’m available. Although I can’t always make it to different community events, I love supporting good people doing good things—even if it’s just a repost or sending announcements to friends.

I recommend doing a quick search for whatever you’re looking for. When I began to consider starting my own Shut Up & Write chapter, I reached out to different writers and literary friends in the city. I asked them if they knew of anything like what I was proposing. While there are a couple other Shut Up & Write groups, there were none that met close to downtown.

You might attend an online or in-person album club and find that it doesn’t align with your interests or values. That’s okay. At least you gave it a try. And maybe, by you sticking around, they’ll evolve in ways that weren’t on their radar before. You might also find a different set of people you can reach with your club.

2. In-person or virtual?

There’s no wrong answer here. It’s really up to you. I’ve found a lot of value in both types of album clubs—and there’s even a secret third thing: hybrid. From listening parties I’ve attended, I saw how powerful it is to be in the same room experiencing music together. But I’ve also gained a lot of value from virtual discussions and love that I can participate from the comfort of my couch.

I lucked out with a location for The Album Club because Scatter Joy has its own third-space storefront. I have a homie who’s looking to begin hosting an album club at the bar where he works. Another one of my friends, , hosts in-person music discovery events at Vowels’ showroom in downtown New York City.

Depending on your vibe, there are a lot of ways you can go. It can be open to the public or as intimate as dinner with friends. One of the things I loved when leading a virtual album discussion last October is that friends from all over the country got to join. I had homies from New York, North Carolina, and Salt Lake City all on the same call. At the end of the day, what is going to be most conducive for the conversations you want to have and the environment you want to create?

3. How are you picking your albums?

“Choosing an album isn’t easy,” wrote Paste Magazine’s Josh Jackson for a story on album clubs. He’s not wrong. There’s so much music out there and so many directions you can go. That’s why I’ve done two things since starting The Album Club: (1) I don’t lead every discussion, and (2) I ask people to share an album they want everyone to listen to.

Dave of the chordinnate album club inspired me to tap other people to suggest albums and lead the discussion. I know that my reference points are limited. While I enjoy listening to different genres, there’s so much music that I haven’t listened to—and I love learning what others are into. ’s discussion on Baby Rose’s To Myself helped me recall a collaboration I heard of hers with BadBadNotGood. I also made the connection with her appearances on Dreamville’s Revenge of the Dreamers III.

Knowing I wanted to open the floor to other attendees, I created a QR code flyer that reads, “What’s an album you want everyone to listen to?” I place the flyers around the room during Album Club meetings and prompt people to share their suggestions. There’s also an option for people to note whether they’d like to lead a future discussion. Over the past few months, we’ve received nearly 100 sign-ups and album recommendations.

When building out the schedule, I’m mindful of picking a diverse group of discussion leads whose album suggestions maintain good variety in gender, ethnicity, and genre. Especially since we’re early on, I try to strike the balance of curating a lineup of artists that aren’t too obscure and still keeping it interesting with plenty of opportunity for conversation. As we go, we’ll take some risks and continue testing the limits of what’s possible.

4. Listen to the album or just discuss?

This is really a question about how you want to structure your time. There are so many different ways to interact with our favorite albums, and it’s simply a matter of what’s most meaningful to you and your community. We structure The Album Club similar to most book clubs where we listen to the album prior to the meeting, then come together to discuss it. There are other album clubs that are more focused on listening to records together.

The best advice I can give is to stay open to how your community might evolve over time. From the beginning, I told people that I’m along for the ride just as much as they are. I thought, when first starting The Album Club, that we’d break everybody into smaller group discussions. We tried it for the first meeting, and it went well. But there was a desire to hear from more people. During the next meeting, we ended up with one large group around the shop. I was worried the conversation may not be as intimate, but people really opened up. We haven’t turned back since.

Be open to surprises. Just because you’ve done it a certain way doesn’t mean you have to keep doing it that way. When you ask your community what they think, you might hear ideas you’ve never thought of. This is the beauty of building these spaces together. This is when it goes from being yours to ours.

5. How often are you meeting?

This question is dependent on a few different factors, but I really want to focus on making the cadence work for you. You don’t start an album club if you don’t want to be at the meetings. You want to be there as much as you can, which means it needs to work with your schedule. Album clubs should be sources of joy; they shouldn’t add to the burnout we’re pushed toward in so many other areas of our lives. You don’t want to bite off more than you can chew.

Overextending myself was my biggest worry about starting The Album Club, but I knew I could commit to meeting once a month. With organizing events, I’ve found that it’s easiest to plan around these gatherings when they happen in regular intervals. By meeting on the same day each month, hopefully, this allows for more consistency—and with consistency comes community.

Depending on your capacity and the appetite of people in your community, you can, of course, meet more often. But you’ll want to ensure that you’re not sacrificing the quality of your club by adding more meetings. What’s most important, at the end of the day, is that you and your people are comfortable being yourselves and gathering around what you love together.

This is meant to provide you with thought starters as you begin dreaming what your album club can be. I’ve shared some of what I’ve learned and encourage others to do the same. If you started an album club or have participated in one, please share in the comments what you’ve found helpful or really enjoyed!

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I started last night with a question: how can we talk about music at a time like this? This is a riff on another question that Ross Gay once received from a white woman at one of his readings: how can a Black man write about flowers at a time like this? Hanif Abdurraqib addressed this question in his poetry book, A Fortune For Your Disaster. And I asked us to sit with this idea to kick off Album Club.

Inherent in these lines of thinking is the reality that there have been times, there will be times, and this is certainly a time. We’re not new to violence or war or imperialism or death or dying children or unnecessary displays of power. In fact, these are hallmarks of living in the belly of the beast. However trivial they may be, we talk about music and flowers because we’re more than what we’ve been handed.

As Ross Gay told NPR’s Brittany Luse, “Gathering around what we love might, in fact, be the process by which we imagine the lives that we want.” Said another way, also by Gay, “Noticing what we love in common, and studying that, might help us survive.”

Last night, my friend and fellow Substacker invited us to share in her love for Waxahatchee’s Saint Cloud, and I want the beauty we experienced in that room — the openness, the togetherness, the curiosity! — to permeate our world. To be something we aspire to.

, who has been making music as Waxahatchee since 2010, returns home on Saint Cloud. Newly sober, the singer-songwriter reflects on who she is, where she’s been, and who she hopes she has a chance at being on the other side of her alcohol addiction. For better, and for worse, Crutchfield has been shaped by her homes. They’ve helped nurture her artistic dreams and desires, and they’re also where she inherited her wild side—the addiction and struggles she’s now trying to heal from.

As noted on “Ruby Falls,” which I consider the saddest song on the album, Crutchfield worries that she hasn’t lived as fully as she could and won’t be able to if she keeps on drinking how she was accustomed to. She fears letting people in and worries what they’ll find if they discover the real her.

On “Arkadelphia,” Crutchfield writes, “If we make pleasant conversation, I hope you can’t see what’s burning in me.” She hides in the mundane, right beneath the surface, hoping even those she’s closest to won’t force her to face herself. But when you come home and you’re surrounded by the folks who know you best, there’s no hiding. “You strip the illusion.” You find that the myth you’ve built has no real love to give. It can’t hold you in the ways your people will.

We try to convince ourselves that our struggles have nothing to do with anyone else, that they’re not worth burdening others with, but the irony is that we have everything to do with each other. “Our belonging to one another is always there,” Gay told NPR. “Our reliance upon one another is always there.” We are “condemned to interdependence,” as declared by Thomas Sankara.

Our attempts at escaping the concerns of those around us are futile. The myth can’t hold up. “You can’t bluff or outsmart.” We need each other, and we waste more time trying to hide than making ourselves available to care.

When we surrender to the love waiting to catch us, we find, as Crutchfield did, that “you won’t break it after all.” Our struggles aren’t too heavy; we’re not too much. This surrender is a return home—back to where we were once held, only to be held again, only to be reminded that they’ve got us, that our people have always had us.

At some of my lowest points, I returned home. I walked through the door at my most broken and allowed my people to put me back together again. I couldn’t feign strength anymore. I was out of answers; I needed help.

On the album’s final track, “St. Cloud,” Crutchfield sings, “Where do you go when your mind starts to lose its perfected shape?” Back to the place I know, to the people I know, holding onto hope that they might shape me into something new. Someone who can experience all this life has for me. Everything I’m meant to taste and see.

That’s not to say home is perfect. As we discussed, in connection with Crutchfield’s lyrics, there’s a tension in returning home. Many of us left for a reason. We may love where we’ve been, but we also know it’s not good for us to stay. I wrote about Hayley Williams and Joy Oladokun wrestling with this dilemma in their music. And still, there’s a difference between what we have and what we want.

Crutchfield expresses her wants throughout the album. I thirst for a future that my present doesn’t always mirror. It’s these desires that help articulate the things that feel like home for me; they guide me toward the heaven I want to create amidst this hell. All of us showing up to share in our love for music, to laugh with one another and “try to give it all meaning” — even at a time like this — I get a glimpse of who we can be. Album Club shows me what’s possible.

For updates on future Album Club meetings, follow us on Instagram!

Even if you’re unable to join The Album Club in person, let’s continue the conversation in the comments. Feel free to answer any or all of the questions that Anna outlined for last night’s Saint Cloud discussion:

1. What did you first hear on this album? The sense of quiet introspection? An immediate “thaw” of lilacs, riffs, and Americana? Something altogether different

2. Does Saint Cloud feel like an indie album wearing a prairie dress and driving a pickup? What lyrics, sounds, or production choices push it one way or another? Any moments on the record that feel evenly both?

3. How did you interpret “Fire” when you first heard it? Does it feel like it’s about putting something out or igniting something?

4. Lyrics often oscillate between poetry and plain-spoken on this album. Do you think that helped make the project more communal? For better or worse, what lyrics stood out to you?

5. What was your favorite song? If you could cut a song, which one would it be?

Leave a comment

Hope you’re hanging in there alright. I’m dropping in to announce that we’ll join back together on March 2nd for our next meeting of The Album Club — a monthly gathering for music nerds and those looking to connect with each other. I host these sessions on the first Monday of every month in partnership with The Scatter Joy Project, a mental health nonprofit making care and resources more accessible.

Picture a book club, but for music. That’s the Album Club. We usually discuss one album in full. The sound, the lyrics, the stories. However, during our last session, we had a Grammys-themed discussion, and I keep hearing how fun the conversation was. It breaks my heart I couldn’t be there, but I’m excited to be back.

Our next album is Waxahatchee’s Saint Cloud. My friend suggested this project and will be guiding our discussion. Come through for your new favorite hangout!

RSVP here

Saint Cloud is the fifth solo album recorded by singer-songwriter under the alias, Waxahatchee. Released in March 2020, the record entered the world as we began COVID-19 lockdown. Crutchfield—a product of Birmingham, Alabama’s DIY punk scene where she made music with her sister, Allison, under the name, P.S. Eliot—opts for a country-blues sound on Saint Cloud that most closely mirrors where she grew up. Katie and Allison linked up last Halloween to form a new band, Snocaps, whose self-titled debut album is also worth listening to!

Here are a few links to better understand Waxahatchee & Saint Cloud. Thanks to Anna, , & for sharing their suggestions!

• Profile: The New Yorker

• Profile: Oxford American

• Interview: The Creative Independent

• Podcast: So True with Caleb Hearon

• Podcast: Song Exploder

• Performance: NPR Tiny Desk

• Performance: KEXP

• Performance: Instagram

The Album Club meets at The Scatter Joy Storefront, located at 986 North High Street, in Columbus’ Short North Arts District. The multi-purpose space is cozy, welcoming, and made just for you. Whether you’ve recently listened to the featured album or you’re returning to it after a while, come as you are!

The event is free for all attendees thanks to support from The Scatter Joy Project. We just ask that you RSVP in advance, so we can plan accordingly. Hope to see you there!

Reserve your spot

I put down my paper scraps and stood to my feet. We were having a crafting party at the house. The living room was split into two zones. One had a table and chairs where we sat around making valentines and vision boards and getting up for the occasional cupcake or pretzel stick. Funfetti cupcakes and Dot’s buffalo pretzels, of course. Meanwhile, we had the Grammys on a couple steps away. Every now and then, someone would try to hear who won over the laughter at the craft table, but it was ultimately in vain because any sort of quiet didn’t last long. There were a few moments we all stopped for. Sabrina Carpenter. Olivia Dean. Addison Rae. But I had a personal mission not to miss Justin Bieber’s performance.

Since last year, I’ve had Bieber’s latest albums, SWAG and SWAG II, in heavy rotation. Both albums were surprise drops, released within a couple months of each other. The first of the bunch, SWAG, came out the same day as Clipse’s Let God Sort Em Out, which was my most anticipated album of the year at that point. That is, until I saw Bieber was dropping. Since 2010, I’ve shown up for nearly every Bieber release. His Christmas album, Under the Mistletoe, solidified my fandom. You will catch me singing “Mistletoe” every holiday season for the rest of time. There’s also a wild Busta Rhymes feature on “Drummer Boy” where the rapper wishes their Twitter followers a “Merry Christmas, Kwanzaa, Happy Hanukkah.” The album is a star-studded event with additional appearances from Usher, Mariah Carey, and Boyz II Men. There’s a one-off country collaboration with The Band Perry, which is something Bieber tries to dip his toe in at times. He did an acoustic duet with Rascal Flatts for “That Should Be Me.” Then, he won a Grammy, along with Dan + Shay, for their song “10,000 Hours.”

Despite the country nods, Bieber has never committed himself as fully to a genre than he has R&B. His brand of pop sits most firmly within the Black music tradition, drawing inspiration from his idol, Michael Jackson, and childhood mentor, Usher. Both men, as child stars turned mega stars, loom large over Bieber’s life and career. From an early age, Justin knew that, if he wanted to be like Mike, his life wouldn’t be normal. Bieber’s former manager, Scooter Braun, would tell him as much: “We can do the teenage-pop-star thing with no long-term career plan, and we can ride this thing for a few years, and your career will be done—and I mean over—or we can stick to our current plan, which is following in the creative footsteps of Michael Jackson.” But if you want Jackson’s career, Braun continued, “you have to grasp that you’re never going to be normal again.”

This came after a concert in Orlando where, afterward, a tearful Bieber told Braun he didn’t like being famous. It’s no wonder he hates it. Despite his immense success and the riches he’s attained, Bieber has contended with the consequences of fame—and navigating it at such a young age—throughout his career. It’s not a stretch to say that Bieber has potentially had more eyes on him than anyone else in the history of the world. Two years after the official launch of YouTube, a 12-year-old Bieber and his mother uploaded their first video to the platform. It was Justin singing Ne-Yo’s 2006 hit, “So Sick.” Bieber’s popularity exploded as he continued posting YouTube videos. Eventually, it’s these uploads that caught the attention of Braun, who later teamed up with Usher to sign the young artist. With the duo moving him and his mom from Ontario to Atlanta, the Bieber fever was set in motion.

Within the first 14 months of his career, Bieber sold over 10 million albums worldwide. Earning an estimated $100 million in 2010, he inspired more than 100 products that were holiday must-haves, secured a Paramount-backed movie listing with his Never Say Never concert film, and sold out Madison Square Garden. L.A. Reid, whose Island Def Jam Music Group housed Braun and Usher’s label, told The Hollywood Reporter, “I’ve seen an artist ascend this fast before but never this big.” In other words, Bieber was everywhere, as were the moths his light attracted. From the constant barrage of paparazzi to intrusive adults who had no issues sexualizing a teenager, Bieber became an object of capitalism’s evils. Horrors that likely resemble redacted emails in the Epstein Files or speculations of time spent with Diddy. Braun’s words, a heartbreaking premonition: “You’re never going to be normal again.”

At 18 years old, Bieber told GQ, “I keep my guard up a lot, because you know, you can’t trust anyone in this business.” He added, “That’s what’s sad. You can’t trust anybody. I learned the hard way.” Remnants of old interviews show how these anxieties have followed Bieber into adulthood. A rather creepy Rolling Stone profile from the year before finds Bieber expressing his ire at the paparazzi and money, repercussions of fame that he also faces on SWAG. “I hate paparazzi,” he says. “They’re stalkers with a camera. If someone’s following you, that’s automatically a crime, but if they have a camera, it’s OK? I don’t agree with that at all.” Later, Bieber adds, “I don’t love money, because once you start loving money, you’ve got a big house and nice cars and just an empty heart, and that’s the truth, I’m not just saying that.”

I identify with Bieber’s desire to keep his heart, especially in the face of systems that want to steal it away. Of course, I’m tempted to roll my eyes at the wealthy complaining about his wealth. The famous renouncing his fame, while basking in its spoils. But I also see the many manipulations that can lead one to madness. Reminders that our leaders would rather grind us to dust than relinquish an ounce of their power. One of the questions about Bieber I hear come up most often is the rhetorical “is he okay?” Even if we expect an answer, it doesn’t take long to remember that none of us are.

On “THERAPY SESSION,” one of the one-too-many Druski interludes on SWAG, Bieber shares how this question weighs on him. “That’s been a tough thing for me recently,” he confesses to the comedian. “It’s feeling like, you know, I have had to go through a lot of my struggles as a human—as all of us do—really publicly.” He concludes, “It starts to make me feel like I’m the one with issues and everyone else is perfect.”

has a song called “AM I?” that I’ve been listening to a lot recently where she mirrors this sentiment. In the chorus, Oladokun sings:

“Does anybody feel like everybody’s flying
Even though the sky is falling?
Has anybody noticed someone’s always crying?
We don’t do a thing
Does anybody feel like it’s getting hotter
Down here under the sun?
Am I the only one?
Am I the only one?”

That question “Am I the only one?” has only grown louder in recent years. We have more platforms for connection than ever before where we’re constantly bombarded with information. However, none of this info is universal due to so many niches, feeds, and micro-communities. There’s also a refusal to accept the truth and the histories that made it so. Even when we know what’s real, we deny it to maintain our own convenience; to uphold our illusions. I’ve felt crazy trying to keep my heart in a careless world. I question if we’re all living the same reality when I see industries and fans alike continue to celebrate abusive artists and athletes. This also comes as our government protects pedophiles in plain sight and distracts from these atrocities with nationwide ICE raids and complaints about Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl halftime show not being “white enough.”

As Hanif Abdurraqib acknowledges for The New Yorker, this is “a world that can render a person unable to get out of bed.” Earlier in the essay, he states, “The world at large is seemingly fine with what we are witnessing, and I think that suggests the irreversible unwellness of a people, of a society.” It’s this world that applauded Justin Bieber—and that I stood up from the craft table to join—as he walked onto the Grammys stage in nothing but socks and SKYLRK boxer shorts. A world that sat clouded in darkness, except for camera flashes and a series of table lamps, as Bieber constructed the soundscape for his hit song, “YUKON.” Unable to see anything but his own reflection, which appeared in a floor mirror that waited for him on stage, Bieber felt comfortable closing his eyes and focusing only on singing.

The original song pitches up Bieber’s voice to where it’s nearly unrecognizable, but his Grammys performance leaves no mystery about who he is. Bieber is who he’s always been. A kid who loves singing; who, like me and my friends in high school, went through a phase where he couldn’t stop saying “swag.” Many of us remember and question the allowance of his cringeworthy line on “Boyfriend”: “Swag, swag, swag on you, chillin’ by the fire while we eating fondue.” When informed of the end of his 2014 Vulture interview, Bieber jumped out of his seat and shouted, “We’re done? Swag!” This feels like foreshadowing for Justin’s current stage in his career.

As depicted in Bieber’s Grammys performance, he has stripped his professional life down to its bare essentials. He parted ways with Braun, who was a life source for Justin and his mom when first starting out. Additionally, Bieber cut ties with the team that had been with him for most of his career. Instead of cover stories and video interviews to promote his SWAG albums, Bieber has opted for Twitch streams where he plays music with his friends and they talk about their faith. Even the albums mark a clear departure from his over-produced, air-tight songs of old. Bieber’s SWAG series leaves room for imperfection. With help from a new band of collaborators, including Carter Lang, Dylan Wiggins, Eddie Benjamin, and the dynamic duo, Dijon and Mk.gee, there’s more texture than previous Bieber records. He taps into the Michael Jackson influence on songs like “ALL I CAN TAKE” and “DON’T WANNA.” These projects also find Justin raising his first child with wife Hailey Bieber.

The pop sensation keeps his heart by embracing his inner child and resting in the ones who let him be. A fulfillment of Bieber’s own prophecy in a 2015 Men’s Health profile: “I want to always remain… to have that sense of purity inside of me where I don’t… I don’t want to lose that sense of purity.” Later, he notes, “You feel like you wanna grow up and you gotta prove yourself. Hey, man, you don’t need to prove yourself. I didn’t know that, though.”

After Bieber’s Grammys performance, I return to the craft table and keep tinkering away at a valentine for Elizabeth. I flip through magazines, scan sticker sheets, and look for the right marker. I tear and cut and paste. In my body, I’ve just finished watching a performance I’ll remember for years. But in my heart, I’m back in art class crafting with my friends. This night—our coming together to celebrate friends’ shared birthdays—is a reminder that we will show up for each other. It’s an invitation, as Hanif notes, to “imagine a heart that feels a connection to the hearts of others, even others you do not know.” As I attempt to survive a world that wants to destroy me, hopefully making this world more survivable for all of us along the way, I cut the bullshit and return to who I am. I look in the mirror and see someone who has been loved into staying, my people once again lighting my way to the stage ahead.

Thank you!

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It felt like a twist of fate when I learned our February Album Club fell the day after the Grammys. My wife proposed the idea of doing a Grammys-themed discussion. I don’t think I’ve said yes to something that fast since standing at the altar on our wedding day. The only problem with the timing of this Album Club is that I couldn’t be there. Without a second thought, I invited my dear friends and previous discussion leads, & , to guide our Grammys conversation. They were kind enough to share their respective recaps below.

Koku

I haven’t watched the Grammys in years, so when Alex presented Selah and I the opportunity to facilitate this month’s Album Club meeting, I was skeptical about how I would add to this conversation. Award shows have been iffy to me, considering the number of times I’ve seen Black people and other people of color get snubbed across the major award show spectrum. I remember seeing Kendrick Lamar’s good kid m.A.A.d city lose to Macklemore and Ryan Lewis’ The Heist. That was the final straw when I realized that, even in categories predominantly populated by Black people, we still can’t win. But watching the 2026 Grammys and discussing it with the crowd at Album Club, I gained a new appreciation for how much these award shows can highlight artists and bring people together.

Watching the Grammys in a group was the best way for me to get back into it. I was able to attend a Grammys watch party thrown by Alex and Elizabeth. Having them there, as well as our group of friends, helped me see the different artists I had missed out on throughout the last year. I got hip to Lola Young, and after seeing her fantastic performance, I absolutely understand why her song, “Messy,” won Best Pop Solo Performance. Seeing acts like Sombr and Katseye opened me up to genres I tend to overlook in my listening. Olivia Dean’s Best New Artist win warmed my heart. The Art of Loving was a fantastic project to help catapult her into a new world.

In addition to Young, performances from artists like Tyler, the Creator, Bruno Mars, Katseye, Sabrina Carpenter, and the excellent Mrs. Lauryn Hill also showed remarkable depth in artistry and showmanship. Tyler did an alternative verse to “Thought I Was Dead” where he addressed the anti-Black moments he’s had in the past, which resurfaced after Tyler responded to his fans’ anti-Black comments on his social media tribute to D’Angelo. On the same stage, Hill performed a tribute to D’Angelo alongside Raphael Saadiq, Bilal, Leon Thomas, and many more. A beautiful tribute during a very positive show. Many of the award winners seemed well-deserving, and there were no upsets. This culminated in Bad Bunny winning Album of the Year for DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS, which brought tears to his eyes. A wonderful moment to end the night.

During our Album Club conversation, Selah urged people to let their hot takes fly toward the Grammys, as well as nominees and unrecognized artists. We discussed what the Grammys actually mean to artists and whether they exemplify music as much as we think they do. Also, we noted the political statements made throughout the ceremony. For example, Kehlani won Best R&B Song for “Folded” while being staunchly anti-ICE, anti-Israel, pro-Palestine, and an overall advocate for marginalized people. She showed you can still be successful while holding onto your morals. Additionally, Billie Eilish spoke out against ICE, many guests and award presenters wore anti-ICE stickers and pins, and during her acceptance speech, Olivia Dean declared, “Immigrants deserve to be celebrated.”

One of my Album Club highlights was the number of people who came engaged and ready to talk. People’s guards seem to fall as the gatherings grow and we see more familiar faces. Folks are willing to share thoughts they would only share with close friends. Selah posed the question: “What album would you give the Grammy for Worst Album of the Year?” Daniel responded with Chance the Rapper’s Star Line, which many guests strongly disagreed with. The Beliebers in the crowd also caught strays with both Selah and Michaela saying, “The last time Bieber made an R&B album was Journals.” This shocked many in the crowd.

Most importantly, we talked about artists who either deserved a Grammy or that we’d love to see get more attention. Some of these included Theo Crocker, Daniel Caesar, I Am Rose, Andre 3000, Nali, Mavi, Duncan Lawrence, and Navy Blue.

At the end of the discussion, we named a wide range of albums, artists, songs, music videos, and performances we loved. Even if we didn’t get to see our favorite artist win, we had an excellent discussion and shared music we might not have listened to otherwise.

Yes, the Grammys are a prestigious award that many would love to win—myself included. And even though they might not always get it right, what’s most important is that we will. We have our fingers on the pulse of music, and as long as we keep moments like Album Club alive, we will always get it right.

Selah

My relationship to award shows has changed drastically over the years. As a child and adolescent, I spent hours obsessing over the Grammys, placing my bets and taking the time to document every big moment to talk about it the next day. After my final year of high school, I spent less time engaging with award shows after noticing the artistry and creativity declining in nominations. It became a pattern of people with racist pasts, repetitive work and tokenism as winners. The time I spent live-tweeting the Grammys got shorter, the conversations became recaps, and I couldn’t get over the hypocrisy in how the winners were selected.

The difference with this watch was the hurdles to access I had never experienced and the emphasis on whether your favorite artist has a spine to mention their politics. Unlike the days where the value of celebrity meant so much more to me, I am reminded that there are no gods and no masters. We see art and artists as political, but we must also recognize that they have the ability to show us they mean it. Although there were phenomenal performances, the best part of the Grammys didn’t happen in my bedroom watching on my iPad. With the right company, I can say that my love for award shows might have returned because of Album Club.

When Alex asked Koku and I to cohost in his absence, there was no way I could turn this down. Though Koku and I haven’t really watched the Grammys in some time, the warmth of last night reminded us that music will always remain the center of our communities. There was love and laughter along with some takes that caused necks to turn. It was full of moments where Koku’s eyes lit up at the mention of Common’s Be as a classic album or when Jaden & Daniel’s hands shot up to share their hot takes that left many questioning if they collaborated beforehand. From fashion conversations to the sweetness of the D’Angelo tribute, it’s clear to me that a space for celebration is what Columbus craves.

After we finished, there were so many new faces that expressed how they found us. One person, who had spoken to Koku, mentioned he had walked past our previous meeting and knew he had to return. It felt like a testament to the importance of just being in the moment. In this chilly season, our hearts are warm with the help of a sweet treat by Koku, heartfelt questions created by Alex, and a cozy drink from Taylor.

For updates on future Album Club meetings, follow us on Instagram!

Even if you’re unable to join The Album Club in person, let’s continue the conversation in the comments. Feel free to answer any or all of the questions I outlined for last night’s Grammys discussion:

1. What are your thoughts on this year’s Grammys? Do you agree with the Album Of The Year winner?

2. What’s your personal Album Of The Year? Even if it didn’t win or get nominated, is there an album from last year that you think should be part of the conversation?

3. At this time, what function do you believe award shows like the Grammys play — particularly for artists? Are they useful? What does a meaningful celebration of art look like?

4. Is there anyone whose name you heard at this year’s Grammys that you’re curious to check out? Or even a project you saw getting love that you haven’t listened to yet?

Leave a comment

ICE violence is not new. Under Democrats and Republicans, ICE has been empowered to harm immigrants and the communities they belong to. These abuses are connected to state-sanctioned violence around the globe, including ongoing genocides in Palestine, Sudan, Congo, and Haiti. As ICE raids pop up in different cities around the US and the public becomes increasingly aware of murders by ICE—most recently with the shooting of Keith Porter in LA and the shootings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti in Minneapolis—it’s more important than ever that we look out for each other and do what we must to keep us safe.

As ICE watches continue in Columbus and we prepare for targeted surges in Springfield, Ohio with the expiration of Haitians’ Temporary Protected Status, I’ve done my best to gather a few resources and ways to help. In the spirit of Thomas Sankara, “This war is one we can and will win—if we understand that we need one another and are complementary, that we share the same fate, and in fact, that we are condemned to interdependence.”

If there’s a resource you’re not seeing below, please share in the comments!

Leave a comment

Columbus

CRIS

Get involved with Community Refugee & Immigration Services (CRIS), an independent non-profit organization that serves the refugee and immigrant populations in Central Ohio. You can donate here. If your loved one is detained by ICE, CRIS may be able to help connect you to trusted resources. Call the FAMILIA Hotline: (614) 874-1189

BQIC

The Black Queer & Intersectional Collective (BQIC) is organizing whistle kit pickups and drop-offs to support community safety and collective care. If you’re an individual or involved with a school, church, or community space in need of whistles, you can complete this form to request a pickup or drop-off.

Call for Anti-ICE Zines

CBUS Creative Club & Zine Club Columbus are requesting ICE response & resource zines. Email your design to sydneyheckeler@gmail.com. It can be a scan or high-quality photo of your finished zine open and laying flat as an 8.5” x 11” sheet. They’ll print it out, fold it, and drop it off to local organizations who will help distribute it during their programming.

Community Response

The Community Response Hub supports efforts to defend communities at risk of deportation and detention in Central Ohio. They do this through advocacy and mobilizing ally organizations and community members. If you’re interested in learning more about the Hub and joining their work, they invite you to complete this form.

Additional Resources

• Whistle Kit Pamphlet

• Mutual Aid Organizations

Springfield

Haitian Support Fund

Central Christian Church is raising funds to help Haitian neighbors and other immigrants in their community with transportation support, groceries, court fees, and shelter costs. You can donate here.

Stand with Springfield

The Abortion Fund of Ohio and Ohio Women’s Alliance compiled a list of resources and ways to support immigrant neighbors in Springfield.

Springfield Speaks

Residents and stakeholders of Springfield are urging state officials to advocate to the U.S. Department of Homeland Security for the extension of Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for Haitian nationals. You can join their petition here.

Please share additional resources in the comments. Thank you for your support!

Leave a comment

Welcome to the new Take It or Leave It. Every month, sometimes a few times a month, Paid subscribers will receive a quick hit of things I’m loving.

Most of my writing is long-form and requires time for research between essays. Hopefully, this helps fill in the gaps for you with new finds (or things you want to revisit).

If not, all good. Take it or leave it ✌️

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Currently awaiting 13-16 inches of snow according to my Weather app. I can’t wrap my mind around how much snow that actually is. Even knowing that’s over a foot, what do you mean we might be getting over a foot of snow??

Back in college, I remember we had an ice storm that knocked out the power and even sent a tree pummeling into one of the academic buildings. My housemate and I ended up staying with a professor and his wife. I’m still disappointed they turned us down for dinner when we asked. But that’s my only reference point for how wild the weather could get.

Wherever you are, I hope you’re staying warm. Stay safe, and please continue looking out for each other. In the words of Thomas Sankara, “This war is one we can and will win—if we understand that we need one another and are complementary, that we share the same fate, and in fact, that we are condemned to interdependence.”

In case you missed it, my first essay of 2026 documents my creative journey over the past decade, including moving halfway across the United States, starting a global poetry movement fresh out of college, and finding my way toward essay writing. These are some of the lessons I learned along the way:

If you’re new to my newsletter and would like to get my essays and monthly obsessions sent directly to your email inbox, tap below to sign up for a Free or Paid subscription to Feels Like Home:

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🌮 TheReportOfTheWeek

My new favorite YouTube channel. TheReportOfTheWeek reviews fast food in the way only TheReportOfTheWeek can. Nate & Sara introduced us to TheReportOfTheWeek at our holiday party. The initial reaction is bewilderment, but over time, TheReportOfTheWeek feels like an old friend. I sit at the edge of my seat awaiting his thoughtful assessments.

🏀 “Next Man Up” Nuggets

The Denver Nuggets are playing the most inspiring basketball in the NBA. They have the best road record and are sitting at third in the Western Conference, which isn’t necessarily surprising. The Nuggets were a top title contender coming into the season. What is surprising is they’ve still been finding ways to win while some of their top players, including three-time MVP Nikola Jokic, miss significant time this season.

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In light of the recent “2016” social media trend, I’ve been thinking a lot about the stretch of time between 2015-16 where I gained a greater sense of my artistic purpose. This is the period of time spanning my senior year of college and me moving out to Colorado Springs for my first post-grad job. Kanye West was at the height of his powers, dominating music and fashion with his “won’t take no for an answer” mentality. On “Ultralight Beam,” the intro for West’s 2016 album The Life of Pablo, Chance the Rapper declares, “I met Kanye West, I’m never going to fail.” Ten years later, I don’t know if there’s a line that has aged poorer. But at the time, Chance was also at the height of his career. His 2013 mixtape Acid Rap had quickly risen the ranks of all-time greatest mixtapes, and he built on that momentum with Coloring Book in 2016. Both projects stayed in heavy rotation for me and my friends.

Beyond the music, I was fascinated by how Chance came up. Growing up in Chicago, Chance, who is only a year older than me, honed his writing and performance skills in poetry communities around the city. Along with other prominent artists like Saba, Noname, and Mick Jenkins, he found a launch pad for his creativity at Harold Washington Library’s YOUmedia program. In Chance’s words, as noted during a 2013 interview with Complex, “The majority of the dope, young artists that are in Chicago came out of that bitch.” His praise for YOUmedia continues. “You can learn music theory there, they have production software classes, you can take engineering classes, DJ classes.” But Chance adored Lyrical Loft, which was YOUmedia’s weekly open mic series created by a beloved mentor, “Brother Mike” Hawkins.

One of my favorite videos from these events is a baby-faced Chance performing “Nostalgia” from his 10 Day mixtape back in 2011 while patrons browse the library shelves behind him. Even at a young age, Chance’s performance is captivating. It’s clear why he rapped, “I’m still Mr. YOUmedia,” on Acid Rap’s “Acid Rain” a few years later. This unique resource, along with Brother Mike’s passing, inspired Chance to create his own “Open Mike” events at Harold Washington Library in honor of Hawkins. Reserved exclusively for high schoolers, these gatherings gave students an opportunity to share their art and be encouraged in their creativity just like YOUmedia did for Chance and so many others.

I first took notice of these events when I saw Chance inviting the likes of Kanye and Childish Gambino to perform for students. In a way, Chance was telling these young artists, ‘This could be you,’ while also giving them a stage to perform for their peers and idols. Unfortunately, now, I look back at these gatherings with mixed feelings. Chance organized Open Mike with Malcolm London, who has been accused of SA and other harms on multiple occasions. In 2020, Chance called out London. “I hope all of Malcolm London’s victims get their justice,” he tweeted. “At this point there are too many stories about dude, and the severity of each one is getting worse. I can’t vouch for him at all and hope all these stories get amplified.”

It breaks my heart that an abuser was so deeply involved with something as beautiful as Open Mike, and I hope no one was harmed as a result. I had no idea about these accusations against London when I first learned about Open Mike; however, I still identify with Chance’s intended goal of creating a “sense of community.” Even more, I’m moved by the act of encouraging young people’s creativity by inviting them to share their art with each other. In many ways, I adopted that mission. It’s what drew me to start Car Window Poetry upon moving to Colorado Springs soon after graduating college.

Car Window Poetry is exactly what it sounds like: you write poems and place them on people’s car windshields. Almost like a parking ticket—but the good kind, if there is such a thing. I started the project in August 2016 after attending a youth poetry slam that blew my world apart. I had never been to any kind of poetry event before. I wasn’t even actively writing poetry at the time, but that night, I stumbled into a poetry workshop where I wrote and performed my first poem. Most importantly, I got to watch as middle and high school students stood in front of a room full of strangers and shared their deepest, darkest secrets. They weren’t chastised for using their voice; they were celebrated. And they created a space where I could use mine.

Having spent a couple months in Colorado Springs a few years prior, I knew my way around the city, but I had never heard of anything like this. My gut told me there were other people in my bubble who hadn’t either. In an effort to spotlight the city’s writers, especially its poets like the ones I saw perform, I started Car Window Poetry. I hoped to host an event for these artists, but I never imagined Car Window Poetry would be on NBC Nightly News or give me the opportunity to visit schools and write with students. In a matter of a few months, Car Window Poetry went from being a local art project to people in other parts of the country—and eventually, the world—sharing poems.

Knowing I wouldn’t be in Colorado Springs for long, I hoped to leave the city better than I found it. I wanted to make my mark, but Car Window Poetry’s success felt like an invasion. The project became my whole world and eventually led to some pretty significant burnout. While I didn’t want to know a world without Car Window Poetry, I knew my heart was no longer in it. This became especially clear when I moved to Columbus, Ohio in 2018. After nearly two years of long-distance dating, I was beyond ready to live in the same city as Elizabeth. Instead of making my mark, I wanted to make a life with the woman I love. I wanted to ease into my new home and learn what made Elizabeth’s city so special.

As a result, I embraced being instead of doing. I put down roots in Columbus after getting hired by a local company. I began finding my way in the city. I made genuine friendships—some of which survived the global pandemic that was soon upon us. Relegated to the confines of my own space, I began nurturing my creativity. I assigned myself obnoxiously long lists ranking my favorite mixtapes and albums. Koku and I started a podcast. Nicolas-Tyrell encouraged me to write essays. My homies started writing essays. I joined them. Whereas Car Window Poetry was me trying to be of service to people outside myself, essay writing was a gift to me. Medium and Substack became platforms for me to share my creativity and be encouraged in my art-making.

When Kanye stood on stage at the 2015 MTV Video Music Awards and directed the crowd, “Listen to the kids, bro,” I didn’t realize it was not just an invitation to listen to those younger than me; it was a call to listen to my own inner child. The kid that would sit in his room and draw for hours or rhyme words together, hoping he could transform people’s lives like Kanye and Kid Cudi transformed him. Looking back, I’m grateful that my parents never discouraged my creativity. They helped me follow my curiosities, whether it was entering me into an art show, driving me to football tryouts, or buying me a studio microphone so I could turn my journal entries into songs. It’s this love and support that has kept me creating through all the different stages of my life; it also gave me the faith to believe that creativity could be meaningful for more than just me. Art can be generative for all of us.

During Car Window Poetry workshops, I remember sitting across from kids who didn’t think they could write a poem. Little did they know, I didn’t see myself as a poet either. But I’d ask them, “What do you like to do?” Then, we’d write about our beloveds together. It was like a beautiful sunrise seeing how they’d light up the more they wrote. With a face full of smile, they’d ask if they could write more. If they were writing more, I’m writing more, too. That’s what helped me see my Substack newsletter, Feels Like Home, as a way for us to “notice what we love in common,” in Ross Gay’s words. It’s also what has inspired me to organize communal spaces like Shut Up & Write and The Album Club.

Coming out of college, I wanted to help others. Then, I realized it’s really difficult to pour into others if I’m not also pouring into myself. Now, I take pride in holding space for all of us to reflect goodness back to each other and share in that goodness together. We all have a role to play in uplifting one another and keeping us safe. A new year is upon us. The horrors will continue; they’ll evolve; they’ll take on new shapes—and so will we. Such a time as this requires that I renew my artistic purpose. It asks that I remember where I came from and what got me here. After our last Album Club meeting, an older gentleman, who joined us for the night, approached me and said, “None of this is by accident.” He repeated himself, wanting to make sure I understood. I couldn’t be more certain of anything. I looked around the room and saw friends I’d made over the years since moving to Columbus. Even my being here is a byproduct of falling in love with Elizabeth.

I don’t know if our paths are predetermined, but I’m here for a reason. I believe all of us are. 2026 has already brought with it plenty of hell. I don’t know what else is in store, but I know we’re going to need each other to make it through and hopefully give way to a more survivable future. When we stand on the other side of all this and look at how far we’ve come, I hope we’ll see that wasn’t an accident either. The freedom. The goodness. All of us fully alive in our creativity. We made every bit of it so.

Thank you!

I appreciate you reading! If you enjoyed, please share it with someone special.

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It’s a new year. The horrors persist, and so do we. I’m dropping in to announce that we’ll join back together on February 2nd for our next meeting of The Album Club — a monthly gathering for music nerds and those looking to connect with each other. I host these sessions on the first Monday of every month in partnership with The Scatter Joy Project, a mental health nonprofit making care and resources more accessible.

Picture a book club, but for music. That’s the Album Club. We usually discuss one album in full. The sound, the lyrics, the stories. During our last session, we discussed Bird’s Eye by Ravyn Lenae, and the conversation stirred up all the feels.

Our next gathering is going to be a little different. We’ll be meeting the day after the 2026 Grammy Awards. We’ll discuss our reactions to the night’s winners and dive into the Album Of The Year nominees. Did the right people win? Who should’ve won or been nominated? What role do award shows play in our current cultural landscape? All this and more at your new favorite hangout!

RSVP here

The 2026 Grammys will air on CBS & Paramount+ at 8pm ET on Sunday, February 1st. Kendrick Lamar leads all nominees with nine nods, including for Album Of The Year. The full list of Album Of The Year nominees are:

• Bad Bunny - DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS

• Justin Bieber - SWAG

• Sabrina Carpenter - Man’s Best Friend

• Clipse - Let God Sort Em Out

• Lady Gaga - MAYHEM

• Kendrick Lamar - GNX

• Leon Thomas - MUTT

• Tyler, The Creator - CHROMAKOPIA

See the full list of Grammys nominations here.

The Album Club will be at The Scatter Joy Storefront, located at 986 North High Street, in Columbus’ Short North Arts District. The multi-purpose space is cozy, welcoming, and made just for you. Whether you’ve recently listened to the featured album or you’re returning to it after a while, come as you are!

The event is free for all attendees thanks to support from The Scatter Joy Project. We just ask that you RSVP in advance, so we can plan accordingly. Hope to see you there!

Reserve your spot

I remember really enjoying Ravyn Lenae’s Bird’s Eye when I first heard it a few years back. But out of all the projects we’ve discussed so far at The Album Club, it’s the one I’ve spent the least amount of time with. That being said, I’m grateful to our wonderful facilitator for suggesting this album and inviting me to revisit it.

Similar to the featured artist from our last meeting, Saba, Lenae comes from the creative lineage of groundbreaking Chicago musicians, such as Chance the Rapper, Mick Jenkins, and Jamila Woods. Lenae’s first touring gig was with Noname. She adds to these artists’ heartfelt body of work with Bird’s Eye, which is Lenae, at 24 years old, guiding us through different seasons of her life.

Mirroring the arc of the album, Selah, our “Pilot” for the evening, started light, took us deep, and then brought us back to a gentle landing. With everyone sitting shoulder to shoulder, making Scatter Joy’s storefront feel cozier than it already is, the discussion felt intimate and invited folks to share openly about their thoughts and experiences.

One of my favorite points of the conversation was chatting about the third track on the album, “One Wish,” which features Childish Gambino. Lenae calls this “one of the most important songs on the album” because it highlights the complex relationship she’s had with her dad. In a letter she wrote about the song, Lenae shared, “Something valuable I’ve learned is being able to really humanize my loved ones and understand the context around people more deeply.”

During the discussion, we talked about estranged relationships in our lives that have shaped how we approach connecting with others. While some people openly shared about strained bonds with family and friends, one of the things that came up is people’s relationship with themselves. We’re handed imperfect instructions and expected to find our way, which often leads to disappointment whether it’s our own doing or comes at the hands of others.

While it’s tempting to want an easy way out—to use our “one wish” to wipe it all away—it’s the challenges and struggles that shape us. That doesn’t mean we glorify these difficulties, but they can be invitations to help us better understand ourselves and what we need from the relationships in our lives. They can guide us toward understanding our humanness and the different facets of who we are.

Gaining a greater sense of self doesn’t mean we have all the answers. I can learn more about who I am and what I want and still be “a pilot roaming.” As the lyrics to “Pilot” read, “I don’t know where to start / Can’t say where I began.” Uncertainty is normal. As Da’Jah noted, society isn’t set up for us to easily change direction. But the beauty of this transitional album and the changing of the seasons, as Quanita shared, is that the bird’s perspective (or bird’s eye) changes when leaving for migration and when it returns.

A new year can be many things, but when distilled, it’s simply a set of days. An opportunity to determine how you want to fill your time and what you want to bid farewell. On “Days,” Lenae finds a “better me.” In the year ahead, I want my days to be what they’re meant to be. I say goodbye to the pressure to always have something cooking. I say goodbye to the scarcity of staying relevant. I choose to ease in; to make time to gather and take pride in going at my own pace.

We may not know where we’re going or where we’re roaming to, but at least our eyes are open. At least we’re figuring it out together. Not lost, just wandering toward a better future. I’m grateful I get to practice this future with Selah and everyone who joined last night’s discussion on Bird’s Eye. Our next meeting is scheduled for Monday, February 2 at 7:30pm. Looking forward to sharing more details in the coming weeks!

For updates on future Album Club meetings, follow my Instagram and The Scatter Joy Project!

Even if you’re unable to join The Album Club in person, let’s continue the conversation in the comments. Feel free to answer any or all of the questions Selah outlined for last night’s discussion on Ravyn Lenae’s Bird’s Eye:

1. What season does this album—or specific songs—remind you of?

2. What’s an estranged relationship that impacts how you connect with others?

3. What are some ways that you have felt like “a pilot roaming”?

4. As you enter 2026, what do you want your days to look like? What are you glad to say goodbye to?

Leave a comment

With the holidays right around the corner, I’m thinking of you and hope there’s love everywhere you look. I’m dropping in to announce that we’ll kick off the new year on January 5th for our next meeting of The Album Club — a monthly gathering for music nerds and those looking to connect with each other. I host these sessions on the first Monday of every month in partnership with The Scatter Joy Project, a mental health nonprofit making care and resources more accessible.

The Album Club is like a book club but for music. We meet to discuss one album in full. The sound, the lyrics, the stories. During our last session, we discussed CARE FOR ME by Saba, and the conversation surprised me in all the best ways.

Our next album is Ravyn Lenae’s Bird’s Eye. The homie suggested this project and will be guiding our discussion. Come through for your new favorite hangout!

RSVP here

Bird’s Eye is the second studio album from singer-songwriter Ravyn Lenae. Released in August 2024, the record finds Lenae reflecting on the growth she experienced in her early 20s. The Chicago vocalist’s sophomore effort, which is cited by many as one of the best albums of last year, caused significant stir after receiving no nominations at the 2026 Grammy Awards.

Here are a few links to better understand Lenae’s second album:

• Review: Pitchfork

• Interview: Women in Pop

• Interview: Rolling Stone

• Interview: Apple Music

• Interview: Teen Vogue

• Music Video: “Love Me Not”

• Music Video: “One Wish”

The Album Club will be at The Scatter Joy Storefront, located at 986 North High Street, in Columbus’ Short North Arts District. The multi-purpose space is cozy, welcoming, and made just for you. Whether you’ve recently listened to the featured album or you’re returning to it after a while, come as you are!

The event is free for all attendees thanks to support from The Scatter Joy Project. We just ask that you RSVP in advance, so we can plan accordingly. Hope to see you there!

Reserve your spot

I spent a lot of this year wondering if I was doing enough. Today marks three years of writing this newsletter, and I’ve done more than I ever expected. Recently, I’ve gotten a few times: “You do a lot. How do you do it all?” It’s interesting because I’m aware that I put myself out there maybe more than the average person. There’s this newsletter. I’ve hosted a local Shut Up & Write chapter for nearly three years. I just launched The Album Club here in Columbus, Ohio. I’ll still write for other publications as my schedule allows. But I’ve gotten to the point where it doesn’t feel like a lot because I’ve found my pace and began to understand what I can give to these different projects. However, we don’t live in a culture of maintenance. Capitalism values explosive growth more than holding steady.

To bring it back to Feels Like Home, writing online is this weird thing where you have numbers in front of you at every turn. The onslaught of dashboards plastered with graphs makes it glaringly easy to see when you’re growing or in decline. I came into this year with a little over 2,000 newsletter subscribers. Thanks to some amazing writers who recommend my publication, especially the premiere culture critic , Feels Like Home added almost 1,000 more subscribers by the end of January. The growth continued into March. But by then, things began slowing down significantly. Where the first month of this year was a dramatic jolt upward, the following months looked more like a flatline.

I mention numbers because I couldn’t avoid them. Also, I didn’t want to. After a decade-long professional career in social media marketing and years of sharing my own content online, I’ve come to expect an immediate reaction to my work. I see patterns in these numbers and theorize why they went in one direction or another. One of the problems, however, is that the value of my writing can’t be determined by other people’s reactions. Of course, when the growth slowed down, my natural instinct was to wonder if I had reached the end. Do people care anymore? Am I publishing enough to stay on people’s radars?

I look back and want to laugh at how pitiful I was, but I also want to honor who I was when I doubted myself as a writer and who I will undoubtedly be again at some point in the near future. Such is writing in the digital age. It has often felt like a miracle that anyone comes across my work at all, especially when algorithms are so finicky and unpredictable. That’s what made me start this newsletter in the first place.

Throughout 2022, I shared personal essays on Medium. While I had some cool moments, such as Kid Cudi retweeting my essay about him, I relied heavily on social media to get the word out. This led to several instances where friends would tell me they regretted not reading something earlier; they just didn’t see it in their feeds. Moving to Substack was me attempting to make my writing more accessible for people who wanted to read it. Thankfully, people have wanted to read my work. Over 4,000 of you now.

While I still want to believe this is a miracle, recently told me something I haven’t been able to run from. “I don’t believe this was a miracle,” she said. “I believe it’s a dedication to your talent & skills, giving it your energy, believing in yourself so much that you created public work that allowed others to believe in you too.” If I wasn’t crying enough already, Marissa added, “You have what you have because you fucking deserve it and worked for it.”

I’m not used to thinking of myself in this way. I learned to understand humility as thinking less of myself. But now, I find more truth in the definition that Krista Tippett shared with Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon: “[Humility] is more about wanting other people to be big.” Inherent in Tippett’s reframing is an understanding that this amplification also extends to ourselves. Rather than withholding affection, I wish for love to be our universal language. We should be making more of each other.

Marissa’s vote of confidence reminded me that I’ve been at this for a while. I think back to writing raps in my childhood bedroom. The composition notebooks I’d fill with rhymes and random drawings. The prayers that became permission to voice my fears and befriend vulnerability. André 3000 talked about great things starting in little rooms. It’s those little rooms where I began finding my voice. Even with the constant hum of doubt that comes with knowing every in and out of my newsletter, Feels Like Home has been a great thing for me—a great thing born from time spent in little rooms. I trust it’s also been great for you.

This year, I tried to bring what happens in this little online room to actual rooms here where I live. Back in March, me and my friend invited folks to Two Dollar Radio Headquarters to hear from some of our favorite writers: , & . It felt like home. Everywhere you looked, there was love. I’m hoping we can bring back Write Home in 2026. It gave me the courage to team up with my homies at The Scatter Joy Project to host monthly Album Club meetings. The confidence to know people will show up.

Alternative Press named Hayley Williams their 2025 Artist of the Year. In her interview, she confessed that she’s unconcerned with becoming a bigger artist. “I care about trying to figure out how to live a real life as an artist,” shared Williams. “The rest is like, ‘What can I do in person to make my community cooler?’”

I still love writing online. As long as there’s an internet to write on, I think that will always be part of me. If it weren’t for this, I wouldn’t get to connect with all of you. It’s because of the internet that my essay was able to get in front of Williams and fellow Nashville singer Joy Oladokun. I got to see what it meant to them and so many others. I take great pride in writing things that seem to emanate sincerity and warmth, especially at a time when our words, our art, and our very decisions have been handed over to robots.

This descent into the inhumane comes at a cost. Not only to ourselves but to our communities. AI is destroying water supplies in cities that need it most. At a time when we’re already lonelier than we’ve ever been, technology takes pride in keeping us isolated and dependent. I come back to this quote often and will continue repeating it. In the essay collection, Inciting Joy, poet Ross Gay writes, “Noticing what we love in common, and studying that, might help us survive.”

The secret of Feels Like Home has always been that I write about things I love, such as music, sports, movies, and TV. But what I’m really trying to do is raise our collective consciousness and deepen our capacity for communal care—both online and in the places where we live. If you’ve spent any time at all with this newsletter over the past three years, I hope it’s made you consider how your life is connected to someone else’s. I hope you’ve been able to see, as Robin Wall Kimmerer notes, that all flourishing is mutual.

The value of this newsletter isn’t a matter of charts and graphs; it’s that we continue reflecting goodness back to each other. If Feels Like Home can help things feel a little more human, a little more real, then I’ve done my job. I can live with that. I look forward to seeing the great things birthed from our little rooms in 2026. Thank you for walking with me. I’m taking off the last few weeks of 2025, but I’ll be back in the new year. Hope to see you there.

If you’ve enjoyed Feels Like Home and believe the art you love is worth paying for, you can upgrade your subscription here:

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My most read essays of 2025:

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Some other things I published this year:

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Disclaimer: This post is too long for email, so you will need to view it in your web browser or Substack app to see the full list.

This is one of those moments I look forward to every year. For 10 years now, I’ve chronicled my favorite music from the past 12 months by pulling together a list of the albums I loved most. These are the projects I carried with me at different points throughout the year.

Especially these days, we’re bombarded with more music than it’s possible to listen to, so I recognize that there are albums missing from this list that you’d have on yours or that you consider the best. I hope you’ll share them because I love hearing what other people are into. But please note that these are my favorite albums, not an objective list of the best projects released in 2025—although they’re the albums that were most meaningful for me.

This year, I wanted to do a better job of tracking all the new releases I listened to in preparation for this list. I kept a Google Sheet throughout the year and marked any projects I wanted to pay special attention to. As of today, I’ve listened to more than 180 albums and EPs in total. There’s so much music I enjoyed and lots I wish I got to spend more time with. You can see the full collection here.

Keeping in line with last year’s list and to make sure I could cap it off somewhere, I ranked my 32 favorite albums of 2025. There was a lot left on the cutting room floor, so please hit me up if there’s a project you really loved. I likely listened and enjoyed it too. This was such a fun music year, and so much of it inspired my writing over the past few months.

Without further ado, here’s the complete ranking:

32. Chance the Rapper – STAR LINE

After the disappointment of Chance the Rapper’s debut studio album, The Big Day, it looked like the Chicago lyricist might have finally crashed and burned. This was especially sad because Chance’s music soundtracked most of my college years, but I saw him creep back to life with his Gallery releases between 2022-24. Albeit a different rapper and at a different stage of life than he was when he put out his critically acclaimed mixtapes, Acid Rap and Coloring Book, Chance proved that he’s still got it with STAR LINE. For a 32-year-old rapper who now more closely resembles a veteran in the game, STAR LINE is the perfect comeback. A reminder that growth is still possible if we remember where we come from.

31. Addison Rae — Addison

Addison Rae’s self-titled debut album is exactly what Charli xcx, an early music collaborator, saw in her all along. The project is inspired; it’s well-crafted. Addison stays in her pocket and doesn’t try to be something she’s not. Plus, you can tell she has a talented team around her helping to bring out her best. With tracks like “Headphones On” and “Diet Pepsi,” Addison delivers a legitimate pop album and one that served as a perfect start to the summer. I had my doubts coming in, but now, I believe.

30. Kaicrewsade – Joint4u!

Kaicrewsade is one of the most exciting acts coming out of a stacked Chicago hip-hop lineage. Following in the footsteps of some of my favorites, including Chance the Rapper, Saba, and Noname, the talented 22-year-old is pairing his poetic delivery with jazz instrumentation. Last year, I really enjoyed his debut album, Yvette. His latest project, Joint4u!, builds on the momentum and proves that Kaicrewsade is just getting started. This time, he has some additional star power with features from Pink Siifu and another Chicago legend, Jamila Woods. Listen to this album on a long walk. I promise it’ll feel like you’re in a feature film.

29. THEY. — LOVE.JONES

I’ve known of the songwriter-producer duo THEY. since 2017 when they released “Dante’s Creek,” a song that plays off the Dawson’s Creek theme. I haven’t kept up with them much since, but I really enjoyed LOVE.JONES after listening to it on a flight. For the next couple weeks after, I couldn’t turn off “Drive Thru.” It’s one of my favorite songs of the year, and it’s joined by some other 90s R&B-inspired hits, including “Straight Up” and “Rotation.” At 10 songs with a total runtime of 26 minutes, LOVE.JONES is an easy listen and perfect for a nighttime drive.

28. Elmiene — Heat The Streets

Elmiene has one of the purest voices in music today, especially within R&B. In 2023, his song “Mad At Fire” was one of my favorites of the year. Elmiene’s 2025 mixtape, Heat The Streets, lives up to its name, delivering a healthy dose of warmth that I’m in desperate need of as we begin dipping into a cold winter. From the moment you press play, it’s clear that Elmiene is all the way locked in. The intro track “Useless (Without You)” is one of my favorite songs released this year. A student of the game, Elmiene reaches for inspiration from Musiq Soulchild and Stevie Wonder throughout the tape.

27. Wednesday — Bleeds

Wednesday, the rock band from Asheville, North Carolina, is one of my favorite discoveries of 2025—a year where I listened to lots of artists for the first time. When I began seeing their name pop up online, I thought they were related to the Wednesday Addams Netflix series. Folks were raving about this album, and I’m happy I made time for it because it’s wonderful. As I began pulling the threads of who they are, I learned about the romance and eventual breakup between lead singer Karly Hartzman and guitarist MJ Lenderman that inspired “The Way Love Goes.” Hartzman wrote beautifully about the song for Vulture. But it would do the music a disservice just to focus on the relationship between two of their members. In a year where my love for rock music flourished, Bleeds stands out and is arguably the best rock album of the year. I can’t wait to see them live in March.

26. Navy Blue — The Sword & The Soaring

Koku texted the group chat and announced, “This Navy Blue album is probably one of the most beautiful albums I’ve heard this year.” I trust the homie’s judgment, so I immediately tapped in—and he’s right. While I’m familiar with Sage Elsesser from Odd Future, I had never listened to any of his music. However, The Sword & The Soaring was the perfect introduction. A tribute to the late rapper and Elsesser’s friend, Ka, Navy Blue’s eighth record is “patient, grounded, completely unhurried,” as noted by for . Elsesser’s words to his father on “If Only…” elevated this album to one of my favorites. These words are now gospel for me: “I love the whole you, I love the whole me.”

25. Jenevieve — CRYSALIS

Jenevieve is another artist whose music I stumbled upon this year. Still covered in clippings from my haircut earlier that morning, I decided I would make my inevitable shower all the more worth it by pulling weeds behind our house. Working through my recent saves, I landed on CRYSALIS and stood dumbfounded through the intro. This state of surprise continued as I listened through the rest of the album. I couldn’t believe how much I enjoyed it. Tightly crafted with R&B tunes that felt familiar and like nothing I had ever heard before, I rushed to replay it so I could dive back into Jenevieve’s world. It was magical even if it included tedious work and acute back pain.

24. HAIM — I quit

Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon calls HAIM his “favorite American band.” It’s hard not to agree. I first learned about the rock-pop trio with their debut album, Days Are Gone, in 2013. I finally got a chance to see them live in 2022 and caught them twice that year—once at Cincinnati’s Andrew J Brady Music Center and another time at Kid Cudi’s Moon Man’s Landing music festival in Cleveland. While I quit isn’t my favorite album from their catalog, the Haim sisters rattled off a generational run of hit singles leading up to the album. They showed me why their music will always be a mainstay for me with “Love You Right,” which is one of my favorite songs of the year. It’s nearly impossible to top a classic album like Women In Music Pt. III, but I’m glad they didn’t lose themselves in the pursuit.

23. Daniel Caesar — Son Of Spergy

I speed-walked to the bathroom. In my tinkering with the makeshift lock on the door, I fell short of my goal of peeing before Son Of Spergy began. Koku and I were embarking on the listening party for Daniel Caesar’s new album at Rich Street Records. As the choir ushered in “Rain Down” featuring Sampha, I regretted my affinity for cleanliness, wishing their waterfall vocals could wash my hands anew. Finally making my way out, I stood alongside Koku as we basked in the beauty permeating every song. Without the tracklist in front of us, we guessed features and perked up at the singles we knew. My favorite moment was guessing the falsetto at the end of “Sins of the Father” was James Blake only to be even more pleased when I learned it was Bon Iver.

22. Geese — Getting Killed

Elizabeth and I got seated on the lawn at KEMBA Live! Lawn seating is probably my least favorite form of concert seating because I’m 30 now and there’s no such thing as getting comfortable while sitting on the floor. Between waiting for Vampire Weekend to come on and debating if I wanted a treat, I thought to myself, ‘This opener isn’t half bad.’ I saw their merch when we came in. Geese. No clue who they are, but the shirt’s cool. Fast forward to the fall, and Geese is all over my feeds. I read this long ass GQ story and learn that the young rock band everyone’s obsessed with worked with Kenneth Blume (aka Kenny Beats) on their new album, Getting Killed. You’re telling me this is the same band I saw open for Vampire Weekend? Couldn’t be. Listening to the album was like listening to Geese for the first time—and in many ways, it was me finally hearing them. Cameron Winter’s voice is distinct, the lyrics are weird, and one of the best compliments I can give is that AI could never make this. Also, “Islands of Men” is one of the best songs of the year.

21. Earl Sweatshirt — Live Laugh Love

Earl Sweatshirt raps like he’s going to run out of words to say. But just when you think he’s about to fall off the rails, he keeps it steady with another string of clever wordplay. When I first learned about Earl back in 2010 and squirmed my way through the “EARL” music video, I couldn’t have imagined a world where he’s chanting, “I released it,” like he does on “Heavy Metal aka ejecto seato!” Earl is 31 now—the same age as me. He has his wife and two children, and he’s looking to preserve his life rather than risk it. Even with the cliché album title, Live Laugh Love reaches for the tried and true—or as Toni Morrison puts it, the “worthwhile.” She notes, “A good cliché can never be overwritten; it’s still mysterious.” This album is Earl embracing that mystery.

20. Destin Conrad — LOVE ON DIGITAL

JT calls Destin Conrad “Kehlani’s cousin.” They’re not real cousins, but for me and my people, anyone can be a cousin as long as the love is there. Conrad might as well be one of my cousins after how much time I spent listening to “THE LAST TIME” this year. Conrad’s collaboration with Teezo Touchdown is among my top-three favorite songs of 2025. Kehlani also shows up on LOVE ON DIGITAL along with other features from the likes of serpentwithfeet and Lil Nas X. The album is packed with infectious tunes and is bound to make you want to find the nearest club and throw a little ass. I would, but my knees hurt. Y’all know how it goes.

19. Madison McFerrin — SCORPIO

Madison McFerrin’s voice can be heard in the background of Saba’s “head.rap,” which was my favorite song released last year. When I saw touting McFerrin’s latest album, SCORPIO, I made sure to reserve time for it. I remember it dropped the same week as Lorde’s Virgin, and there were points during that Friday after listening to both where I thought McFerrin might have the more compelling project. Joke’s on me because I love that Lorde album more than I expected, but SCORPIO is really special. “The flavor of the music is like a smoky mezcal,” Carmelia noted in her review. “It’s confident, potent, and carries a commanding fire that makes the spicy lyrics believable.” Well, that explains why I’m sweating.

18. Eem Triplin — Melody Of A Memory

Eem Triplin is a new discovery this year. I can’t remember how I found Melody Of A Memory, but I’m sure it has something to do with the album artwork. Truly one of my favorite covers of the year. Without knowing anything about him, I could tell from listening to “DUYA” that Eem is a student of Tyler, The Creator. Growing up with Tyler’s music, it’s wild to me that there are artists coming up now who look to him in the same way Tyler looked to Pharrell. I’m sure that was trippy for the people who were there for The Neptunes’ run in the early 2000s and then saw glimpses of their production in Tyler’s music. It just means we’re growing older, but I felt validated when I sent this album to my 23-year-old direct report, and it’s all he wanted to listen to after us and the homie Ahmed saw Moonlight in IMAX. Guess I’m not unc and/or chopped after all.

17. Justin Bieber — SWAG II

We weren’t expecting SWAG, and I definitely didn’t anticipate a follow-up album two months later—especially after we went four years without a new Justin Bieber project. The second coming of SWAG is even longer than the original, weighing in at 23 new releases. As someone who is morally opposed to long albums, I was skeptical. But as a Justin Bieber apologist, the fandom won out. These Michael Jackson impressions are catchy as hell, and the music feels like an extension of the creative freedom Bieber exhibited on the first project. “Church bells and throwing rice things” on “BETTER MAN” is forever imprinted on my brain. But I wish I could forget him mansplaining Genesis. Doesn’t the Bible already do enough of that?

16. Mavis Staples — Sad And Beautiful World

Mavis Staples’ career is long and the lineage of artists she has inspired is even longer. I’m still relatively new to Staples’ work, but her heartfelt cover of Frank Ocean’s “Godspeed” inspired me to write this essay I’m deeply proud of. The album this cover belongs to, Sad And Beautiful World, is made up almost entirely of other people’s songs, but Staples, 86, lends a knowing to these words by way of time and experience. While she has no children of her own, performances like her cover of Kevin Morby’s “Beautiful Strangers” and the aforementioned “Godspeed” feel like wise words from a loving grandma. And who doesn’t need to be reminded, as noted by Lalah Delia, that your grandmother’s love is still surrounding you? It’s also good to remember this album features contributions from Buddy Guy, Bonnie Raitt, Katie Crutchfield, MJ Lenderman, Justin Vernon, and more.

15. redveil — sankofa

This one snuck in right at the end, but I had to include redveil’s latest. It’s terrific. I’ve been calling it the “Gen Z To Pimp a Butterfly,” which doesn’t feel too far-off seeing as redveil chose the Kendrick Lamar album as his Pitchfork “Perfect 10.” I’ve been inspired by the 21-year-old rapper since he spoke up for Palestine at Camp Flog Gnaw. I wrote about the moment here. Making a home for himself in Los Angeles, sankofa finds redveil adjusting to this next stage in his career. On “pray 4 me,” he raps, “The sunset prettier than it ever really get back home, but I can’t enjoy it.” Peeking above the fray, redveil delivers a vulnerable album with jazz riffs that shake the spirit and stir the soul.

14. Hayley Williams — Ego Death At A Bachelorette Party

I knew of Hayley Williams’ power before I ever immersed myself in the work of her and her friends. I remember hearing Paramore’s “Decode” for the first time back in high school and being struck by how commanding the lead singer’s voice was. A few years ago, I made a more intentional effort to familiarize myself with Paramore’s catalog, which only gave me a greater appreciation for Williams, the artist and the human. Ego Death At A Bachelorette Party, her third solo album, is a 20-song sonic adventure. Of these tracks, “True Believer” has haunted me the most. After I wrote about it in a recent essay, Williams commended my words and expressed her appreciation. She even shared the piece, introducing it to a wider audience. I’ve been floating ever since.

13. Saba & No ID — From The Private Collection of Saba and No ID

My most listened-to song last year was “head.rap,” the lead single from Saba and No ID’s collaborative album. I wrote about it here. Coming into 2025, this album was my most anticipated project of the year. Saba and No ID didn’t disappoint. After a stellar three-album run where his fanbase has grown tremendously, Saba comes into this record looking to set the story straight. “Although I live a wild dream, I am not God.” This resembles Kendrick Lamar’s words on Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers: “I am not your savior.” By establishing clear expectations from the beginning, Saba frees himself to be imperfect. And even amidst the flaws, he hears God ask, “Don’t you know you enough?” It’s this assurance that inspires a deeply grounded effort from the Chicago rapper—one I’m grateful we get to enjoy.

12. Saya Gray — SAYA

This is one of the first albums I fell in love with this year. I’m new to Saya Gray’s music, but SAYA made me an immediate fan. The pedal steel guitar, acoustic strums, and electric guitar breakdowns on “..THUS IS WHY (I DON’T SPRING 4 LOVE)” make for a bafflingly perfect intro. This experimentation continues throughout the album and positions Gray, who seemingly takes notes from Bon Iver and BANKS, as one of the most exciting innovators in music today. Even with these touchstones, you can tell Gray takes pride in creating original art and seeing which boundaries she can push to their breaking point.

11. Turnstile — NEVER ENOUGH

Lorde and Turnstile played in Columbus the same night. I chose Lorde. While it was one of my favorite shows in a while, I still regret not seeing Turnstile. On top of Blood Orange opening for them, Turnstile’s bassist Franz Lyons is originally from Columbus. Being at his hometown show would’ve been sick. But learning about Lyons’ roots in Ohio and the band’s origin in Baltimore’s hardcore scene has only made me love them more. It’s almost like they were perfectly handcrafted for me. Even in terms of the music itself, there are so many bits and pieces I love. The melodies are catchy, and it bangs when it needs to. Also, Brendan Yates’ voice is so fun to sing along with. There’s a NEVER ENOUGH visual album worth watching too. I love how they’re trying stuff and giving their art its best shot all while seemingly being normal, caring people. It’s cool to see.

10. Rochelle Jordan — Through The Wall

I shared this album with my mom. That’s not me saying Rochelle Jordan is washed; more so, it’s that Jordan invokes a sound I can imagine my mom and her friends listening to at the club back in her Morgan State days. I’m familiar with Jordan primarily from collaborations with KAYTRANADA, but I didn’t realize how long she’s been at it. Jordan seems to have a clear sense of self that she speaks to wonderfully in her Paste Magazine interview with one of my favorite Ohio writers, Matt Mitchell. “There’s no Grammy or accolade that can replace the time that I’ve spent developing myself as an artist and trusting in my vision,” shared Jordan. “Moving forward, that’s what I’m celebrating.” And I’m right here celebrating Through The Wall as one of the most impressive dance releases in recent years.

09. Nami — WARM

JT has been one of my musical guides since we met back in college, so when he said WARM is probably his top album this year, I knew I had to tap in. And of course, it’s exactly what I needed. I had never heard of Nami, but he’s on Monte Booker’s new album and has a songwriting credit on SWAG II. I had a phase in high school where I thought I should’ve been alive in the 80s. I got obsessed with music from that era, and it turns out I’m still that kid. Nami pulls all those strings. “Suzette” is literally him impersonating Michael Jackson’s ad libs just like I would in my bedroom listening to his Essentials collection. While I can name different reference points throughout the record, Nami still reaches toward the future. It feels fresh while providing glimmers of a former time. You get the live vocals and instrumentation of Dijon’s Absolutely while the harmonies are reminiscent of Boyz II Men—all with the throughline of Nami’s earnest desire. Warmth incarnate.

08. ROSALÍA — LUX

It was clear from the “Berghain” music video that ROSALÍA is not messing around. She doesn’t want to just make a great album; she wants to be one of the greatest artists of our time. Scratch that. Of all time. LUX is a spectacle; an art piece; something to behold. I keep finding myself holding it up to the light and inspecting how the sun shines off it. I notice something new every time. Just as beautiful as the last. I had to catch my breath after my first time listening. I have asthma, so maybe this isn’t as much of a compliment as I want it to be. But the music is truly breathtaking. Awe-inspiring. I love that ROSALÍA dared to make this album, and I can’t wait to see what it inspires in other artists. You can’t hear LUX and not be changed.

07. Bad Bunny — DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS

The first major release of the year and arguably the best. Bad Bunny is colossal. A global behemoth. At a time when the world’s biggest artists often walk the line, avoiding any and every opportunity to offend, Bad Bunny invites us home to Puerto Rico and tells the truth of where he’s from—a truth that flies in the face of American imperialism and colonization. He talks about the displacement of his people and a homeland that’s rapidly changing while him and his beloveds try to cling to whatever scraps they can. The album’s title a regretful confession (“I Should’ve Taken More Photos”) but also a declaration that Puerto Rico won’t be disappeared without a fight. It takes realizing what you’ve lost to know what you don’t want to lose more of. No matter where you’re from, this is the reality of so many of our homes. In this project’s specificity, a distinctly Puerto Rican album, Bad Bunny builds a shelter where all of us have our own rooms as long as our greatest desires are love and liberation.

06. Tyler, The Creator — DON’T TAP THE GLASS

DON’T TAP THE GLASS came out of nowhere. I was scrolling one night, and the next thing I see is Tyler holding a new record. It dropped the following Monday, and what we got is Tyler, still on his CHROMAKOPIA Tour, opening the dance floor and inviting us all to join. Tyler, who came out to a rousing ovation at Kendrick Lamar’s Pop Out show, shared how Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers inspired his radical honesty on CHROMAKOPIA. Evident in Tyler dropping his own verse to Lamar’s “hey now,” it’s clear that GNX put a battery in his back. The album emboldened Tyler’s LA pride and incited him to make sure it comes through as clear as possible in his music. You can hear Tyler’s upbringing on songs like “Sucka Free” and “Don’t Tap That Glass / Tweakin’.” Outside of the LA influence, this album celebrates Black music across the United States with touchstones in Atlanta crunk and Jersey club. All of this makes for a project that’s easy to groove to and best enjoyed on repeat.

05. Clipse — Let God Sort Em Out

Clipse is back. I revised an older essay and wrote about their return earlier this year. Pusha T and Malice are up there with OutKast as one of my all-time favorite rap duos. After 16 years since their last project, Let God Sort Em Out burst through the doors with a vengeance—and with perspective, a gift often granted by time. While we’ve come to expect villainy from Pusha T, a well-documented menace, it was easy to lose sight of Malice after he went solo. But foolish are those who despise wisdom and instruction. Malice emerges from the shadows like he never stopped working. That’s because he never did. Malice is sharper than ever, overpowering everyone who steps his way—even his brother. And Push knows it; he revels in it. And that’s why no one is happier about Clipse’s return than the one who’s stayed in the limelight. Now, he’s indestructible.

04. Lorde — Virgin

September 23rd was supposed to be Christ’s return. I saw Lorde instead. So I guess, kinda the same thing. I was taught the Rapture as the lifting of our bodies toward heaven, but no one mentioned “Broken Glass” playing while it’s happening. “This is real,” our “prettier Jesus” declared before the masses. And it’s that physicality, bodies touching, sweat in the air, that’s at the heart of Virgin. Lorde uses words like “raw,” “rugged,” and “gore” to describe her first album in four years. Raised on high after two breakthrough albums, Pure Heroine and Melodrama, Lorde became “man (of the year)” and showed us exactly who she is. Not a deity to be worshipped but a member of the body—real bodies fully in their humanness. And in this communion, we’re set free. Free indeed.

03. Justin Bieber — SWAG

Justin Bieber attempts freedom on SWAG. As someone who has claimed a seat at the table for nearly every JB release, I’ve become very familiar with the boxes he’s often forced into—sometimes of his own volition. Frictionless R&B pop records became his calling card. Not as in smooth, but as in inhumane. Robotic. His first two post-marriage albums, Changes and Justice, reeked of this lifelessness. But SWAG comes to us, four years after his last release, as a surprise and a pulse. When Bon Iver craved revival on his 2022 U.S. tour, he called on Dijon and Mk.gee. Bieber did the same. And while they brought their signature sounds, maybe their most important contribution is giving Bieber the space to follow a moment. To break the mold. To be human again.

02. Dijon — Baby

The moment is beginning to catch up with Dijon, which means he’s likely already on to the next thing. In one of my favorite essays I wrote this year, I examine Dijon’s relationship to time. The Maryland native reaches for vanguards like D’Angelo and Radiohead. That’s his definition of mastery and where he wants to be; it’s why he takes his time. But in the time he takes, Dijon starts from a place of messing everything up. He doesn’t want perfection. I don’t think that’s what he sees in his idols; he sees feeling. Baby is Dijon chasing that feeling. Letting emotion pour through every element. Following the moment wherever it may lead—and in turn, establishing new moments and creative standards that artists will chase for years to come.

01. Bon Iver — SABLE, fABLE

I showed my cards when I wrote this essay declaring SABLE, fABLE as my favorite album of the year back in October. But it was undeniably clear that Bon Iver had a chokehold on me in 2025. I didn’t need my Wrapped to confirm that my top songs were all from this album. I thought about and discussed SABLE, fABLE more than any other project this year. From album clubs to group chats, I couldn’t escape Bon Iver’s happiest album yet. I also couldn’t escape Justin Vernon. For the first time in his career, the Bon Iver frontman decided to poke his head out of the sand and do the full promotional tour. It’s bittersweet because this is likely Bon Iver’s last breath but at least we get a victory lap. One covered in “lush vibrance,” as used by Vernon to describe this project. As a longtime fan of Bon Iver, I’m basking in it all.

Honorable mentions aka EPs that would’ve made the list if they were technically albums:

• Gabriel Jacoby – gutta child

• Kacy Hill – But Anyway, No Worries!

• Odeal – The Summer That Saved Me & The Fall That Saved Me

• Tems – Love Is A Kingdom

Listen to my favorite songs from my favorite albums of 2025:

I’ve been listening to Saba since he first appeared on Chance the Rapper’s “Angels,” and last night, I got to join with others in discussing his second album, CARE FOR ME. Music can be many things, but I love when it’s an invitation to better understand ourselves and each other. That’s what this album seemed to be for Saba, and it’s what my dear friend, , guided us toward as he led the discussion for our second-ever Album Club.

Especially this early on, I’ve been telling people that I’m along for the ride just as much as the folks in attendance. As we continue, I’m excited to get more people leading conversations about the albums they love most—and as someone I often geek out about music with face-to-face and in our group chat, Koku was the perfect person to be our first guest facilitator.

CARE FOR ME isn’t an easy album to talk about; it’s Saba grieving the murder of his cousin, Walter “John Walt” Long Jr., who was also a member of the Pivot Gang rap collective along with Saba and others. Walter’s death serves as the impetus for the album and played a bigger role in the project’s formation than Saba initially realized.

I didn’t know what to expect from the conversation, especially in a room full of people, but I’m amazed at how open folks were as Koku used the album as a guide to explore our own experiences with loss, grief, and finding peace.

On “LIFE,” Saba shares how he believes death is obsessed with him. He expands on this line for Genius, noting how “the element of death haunts the writing of the song.” All of us have witnessed death in some way; its inevitability, as noted by Nykeia during last night’s discussion, is something that bonds us together.

As folks vulnerably shared their memories of loss—some wounds more recent than others—there was an emphasis placed on facing these memories instead of trying to avoid them. That’s one of the things I appreciate most about how Saba approached CARE FOR ME. He didn’t write around his pain; he wrote his pain as plainly as he could.

In studying for last night’s meeting, I spent the morning prior sitting with the album’s lyrics and making note of anything that stood out. This led me to journaling while I listened to “LIFE” on repeat. I let my pen run free as I dug up childhood memories I don’t always stop to reflect on. This helped me find language for how I consider these experiences and the ways they’ve shaped me as I’ve grown older.

There are no clean answers or endings, as one of the homies noted during our discussion. The goal of grieving isn’t to figure out the pain; it’s to make space for the pain to breathe so we, too, can breathe easier. It felt like a collective exhale as we acknowledged that everyone experiences and approaches pain differently, which means that our paths toward healing also look different.

The best we can do is hold space for each other to feel, and I’m grateful we had an opportunity to create that space for one another during last night’s Album Club.

The final track on CARE FOR ME is “HEAVEN ALL AROUND ME,” a song written from the perspective of Walter entering Heaven. And while the idea and existence of Heaven looks different for all of us, the room last night with chairs gathered all around resembled Heaven on Earth in a way that Taylor described with one word: healing.

The openness of last night’s conversation is a testament to Saba’s vulnerability on CARE FOR ME, the inviting spirit that Koku brings into the everyday, and everyone’s courage and generosity to see what this gathering could be. I’m so grateful and can’t wait to join back together in the new year. Our next meeting will be on Monday, January 5 at 7:30pm. I’ll share more details in the coming weeks!

For updates on future Album Club meetings, follow my Instagram and The Scatter Joy Project!

Even if you’re unable to join The Album Club in person, let’s continue the conversation in the comments. Feel free to answer any or all of the questions Koku outlined for last night’s discussion on Saba’s CARE FOR ME:

1. Which motifs, themes, or narrative threads stand out to you on the album?

2. What are some ways you personally deal with grief or emotional overwhelm?

3. Do you think a search for someone you’ve lost ever truly ends? Or is it something that continues in different forms throughout life?

4. What does “Heaven” look like for you, whether literally or as a personal source of peace and meaning?

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Welcome to Take It or Leave It. Every month, sometimes a few times a month, Paid subscribers will receive a quick hit of things I’m loving.

Most of my writing is long-form and requires time for research between essays. Hopefully, this helps fill in the gaps for you with new finds (or things you want to revisit).

If not, all good. Take it or leave it ✌️

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Man, the past month has been special. So so special. I won’t be able to do it full justice here in the intro, but I’m incredibly grateful for what I’ve gotten to witness and be a part of throughout November.

This month began with the launch of The Album Club — monthly album discussions that I get to host here in Columbus with my friends at The Scatter Joy Project. Our first meeting covered my favorite album of the year, Bon Iver’s SABLE, fABLE. It was so cool to see the room filled with beautiful people having thoughtful conversations about their observations of the project.

I’m looking forward to continuing these gatherings with our next meeting less than a week away. We’ll be discussing Saba’s CARE FOR ME, and if you haven’t listened in a while, go do that. The Chicago rapper’s second studio album has aged like fine wine.

In newsletter news, Feels Like Home surpassed 4,000 subscribers.

Since 2022, even before I started this publication, I established a rhythm of publishing at least one essay a month. Starting Feels Like Home was me trying to make my work more accessible for the people who wanted to read it.

Thankfully, so many of you—more than I ever could’ve imagined—have made time for my writing and gone as far as to subscribe. I’m so grateful, and I’m excited to keep going. I hope you do, too.

Last little bit, and this is one of the coolest things that has ever happened to me. Paramore’s Hayley Williams shared my latest essay highlighting songs by her and singer-songwriter Joy Oladokun and their shared themes of home and belonging.

Williams also commented on the essay, and I’m cherishing these words from one of the greatest songwriters of our generation:

It’s important that I express my gratitude to each and every one of you who reads my writing, shows love when we see each other, shares my work with other people, and simply loves me for me. I recognize the hard work I’ve put in over the past few years, and I acknowledge how you all carry me. I keep saying it, but I’m so grateful. Thank you for seeing me and helping me feel less alone.

If you’re new to my newsletter and would like to get my essays and monthly content recommendations sent directly to your email inbox, tap below to sign up for a Free or Paid subscription to Feels Like Home:

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Something I watched

I take great pride in my annual favorite albums list, and I always make the caveat that “favorite” is very different than “best.” There are people much smarter than me who I’m sure can break down the intricacies of why a song is a technical feat, but those aren’t always the songs that move me; they’re not always the songs I come back to throughout the year, the ones I carry with me from life stage to life stage.

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