Sunday Dinner, not dinner on a Sunday, is an inherently special thing. It is a final opportunity for freedom, shrouded in the reality of the Sunday scaries and, in my case, impending homework. I have discovered, however, that if I cycle through the many emotions of a Sunday evening through a solitary playlist as I mince garlic and throw it into hot oil, the pain is eased ever so slightly. Here is that playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3EpiIAlnSZe3LyuRMFBBkV?si=TvEDA2tkQHykZ9wdVozGVw.
“El Cuarto de Tula,” Buena Vista Social Club - When I was younger, my mother made cinnamon rolls on Sunday mornings as she listened to folk music. On Sundays, I listen to Buena Vista Social Club and pretend I am back in Cuba as I make pancakes, which I understand are not quintessentially Cuban. It is how I survive the winter. It feels only appropriate to begin this playlist with the final feelings of joy that come on a Sunday morning, the only morning I ever wake up feeling truly rested.
“Casio,” Jungle - I like the breeziness of Melissa Young’s voice as she sings about how she doesn’t care that her boyfriend is unhappy during the chorus of this song. Apparently, For Ever (album) is intended to sound like “a post apocalyptic radio station playing break up songs.” I simply like the neo-funk whisperings of this song, and how it lets me down gently from my bolero high. I saw this song live, and I like the remember that day on Sunday evenings when I am anywhere except a bar in Nashville.
“Barefoot in the Park,” James Blake + ROSALIA - I adore ROSALIA and James Blake as individuals, and listen to the former every single day. I have never seen the film of this same name, but my understanding is that it is about a couple in which the mans lacks spontaneity and the woman has an overabundance of it. I like this song. I think about my Monday during it. It is like the time warp in Interstellar and I emerge intellectually cognizant of the fact that Monday is coming yet believing in God enough to think that it won’t arrive quite yet.
“Monday, Monday,” The Mamas and the Papas - As the title suggests, this is a song bemoaning Mondays. I participate in this bemoaning. Then I get over it. Because, “every other day of the week is fine, yeah,” so just have to suck it up. I am conflicted about whether I can continue to listen to The Mamas and the Papas after hearing that John Phillips had a relationship with his daughter.
“Ottoman,” Vampire Weekend - Despite the upbeat tune, this entire song is about the impending failure of a relationship, with sweeping comparisons to famous empires of the past, notably, the Ottoman. Ezra Koenig’s voice brings me joy, so does the memory of this song, which I saw live. Again, a good memory to evoke on a Sunday evening, and one that helps lift me from the Sunday scaries induced by the two previous songs. It was the final song at their concert in Cincinnati, and balloons were tossed into the audience and people were screaming and I cried ten feet away from greatness. Sometimes I pause the playlist here, as I am again crying - of happiness, surprise! Who would have thought on a Sunday?
“Forever,” HAIM - These final songs are not quite so interesting. I don’t often listen to dance pop except when I do Ryan Heffington workouts on the porch of my grandmother’s house at 4 PM on Thursdays. But on Sunday evenings, they’re just the ticket. This song is particularly funky because it has drum beats styled by reggae as three Jewish girls sing. I feel like I’m a part of the family.
“I Wanna Be Your Lover,” Prince - Who doesn’t want to end their cooking listening to Prince? An icon. No explanation necessary.
“All My Friends are Falling in Love,” The Vaccines - Ok, admittedly, this is far from dance pop. But it achieves a very similar purpose, and feels like a good English teen movie in which high school is far from hell and something that can be looked forward to. As you can see, we’ve gotten to a stage of hyped up delusion.
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