What’s the score? With love, from 2024

As ideal as material for challenges come, this one had already been beautifully laid out in my mind from my doodles, notes, and therapy-driven realizations. This soundtrack blends auditory sensations of funk, experimental jazz fusion, and psychedelic rock into a sonic melting pot that warms your every need with a 360-degree rotation. Please note that this story is organized into 12 chapters represented by one month and one song each.

(1) January | DJ, David Bowie

Iconic Intro

“I’m home; I lost my job.” Hi, my name is Dylan, and this is symbolic. Just kidding. But not entirely. The past five years have seen me moving back home and experiencing unemployment three times—technicalities, shady employers, or positions eliminated due to lack of business. No worries. After taking a break from the 9-to-5 grind, I landed a dream gig as the official merchandise seller for a Seattle-based band, Cytrus.

Bowie’s DJ feels like my anthem. His sarcastic “I’ve got believers” mirrors my own experience of carving a path despite doubts. This would be my go-to karaoke song—if only the public embraced deep cuts. Either way, it’s the perfect first song for my life’s 2024 score— meant to be played in order, not on shuffle.

(2) February | CN2U, Spunj

Vibing Out in My Room

On Groundhog’s Day, I ended a year-long, cohabitating, sinister relationship, but he left behind more trauma than heartbreak. For simplicity, let’s call this person “the con artist.”

This “relation-shit” was a clusterfuck of scarring firsts: my first musician, first alcoholic/addict, first narcissist, first admitted pathological liar, and the first significant other to attempt suicide in my presence (regretted aloud shortly after). You get the picture. Cue music, please.

I remember instantly loving CN2U when I first heard it live a while back, but I couldn’t make out the lyrics and didn’t even know how much I needed them. I was sent the recording on February 10th, and I wrote the lyrics out—on my mirror, in my travel journal—letting their meaning fully sink in (I’m a visual learner). The song made me feel seen, understood, and lighter. Dancing around my room with cathartic middle fingers high, “Fuck that guy!” It was a healthy outlet for my rage, transforming my anger into something creative and empowering.

I ecstatically customized a Spunj shirt with iron-on letters reading “Wish You Hell” on the back and wore it to their next show. Those three little words did more for me than I can express. This song spearheaded my healing journey since I was on the waitlist for therapy. The music carried me through the worst of it. Reshaping farm fresh depressing triggers into something euphonious that helped me to reclaim my voice.

(3) March | Wyoming, Whalien

Whistleblower Era

Wyoming stirs something fierce in me. Oblivious to the lyrics until now, the tempo modulation hit me deep in the feels every time, pushing and pulling on my heartstrings, moving my bones and emotions to strange heights. Shane (drummer) informed me of the lyrics being sad every time I requested it, but it always made me feel pretty fucking happy.

In more ways than one, these dudes know how to give me a much-needed break from my sadness. A light leading me out of a cold, dark cave. These guys redefine 'Dad Band'—with pure joy and wholesomeness. I am never not happy at a Whalien show. In my golden opinion, Whalien is next level from the rest of my local loves and the PNW on-the-rise greats, taking up space in a category of their own. Their live shows are masterfully saturated with a level of silliness and innocence—a youthful glowing genuineness of simpler times and nursery rhymes. What a fine way to spend a dime.

(4) April | Stuck, Lost Ox

Reverberations of the Heart

So, I decided to quit drinking after the Groundhog’s shadow scurried away. Not because I ever had a problem but because the con artist did, and that inspired me to process and heal as the real deal without numbing anything away.

Hearing Stuck live at the Blue Moon in Seattle hit me hard. I was alone and held back heavy tears during the set, but replaying it later allowed me to let it all out. I suddenly realized I had been stuck in something for longer than I wanted to admit but entertaining lies as holding out for hopeful changes. The song pushed me to finally complete the forms for counseling I’d been avoiding. It might be safe to say tempo modulation pushes me out of my comfort zone. Maybe it creates a flow I’m in search of. And catches my attention by switching up the direction. Idk. That irregular drum beat left me wide-eyed, and I thoroughly enjoyed how Scot (drummer) and Reed (bassist) played together.

(5) May | Cytrus Jam

Lost and Sound Soother

The songs and shows I've already mentioned helped tremendously in their own ways, but I still struggled with revolving thoughts and flashbacks. The looping trauma. The debilitating debacle. All that residual bullshit that I had to sit with to break away from potentially returning to. Feeling the hard shit is important but draining AF. And if my mind did get that break, it would only be for the duration of the song or show then right back to my unfortunate cyclical negative reruns. The noteworthy experiences were certainly healing but what I haven’t mentioned is those times that I hadn’t been able to enjoy any other music, i.e., one trip to and from Bellingham was in complete silence (4+ hours total). Can you imagine?

It's been almost two years since Cytrus has agreed to let me tag along and handle their goods. I’ve become most familiar with the songs and jams of their sets and improv, as an eight-piece psychedelic funky powerhouse group. (Lucky me!) On tour, Connor (percussionist) will often need to play that new new to prepare himself for the show, and I geek out. Cut to, one random normal day, my golden ear detected something I hadn’t heard yet from one of their IG stories, and I immediately called Connor to get the scoop and request a share. He said he'd have to check because it was probably from a rehearsal he missed. Click. So I'm alone in my room, however long after the phone call was, trying to work out (in silence) with a bad whoa-is-me attitude and intrusive thoughts like “Why have I let myself get so bad.” (Anyone else eat their feelings?) And that beautiful fucking sound of Connor’s custom barking sea lion text tone broke my deafening nightmare trance with a 35 min jam recording that kicked my workout into overdrive. I started to enjoy the physical pain again. And laugh at myself. I actually fell asleep in an acceptable amount of time. I woke up early and wrote on my bedroom mirror, “Today is going to be different.” And worked out again.

The jam they just happened to randomly record on 5/1/24 seemed to serve as a transformative tune that lifted me up and into the next level of restorative sound healing—above every other melody before it— where I could finally mute my mind and truly get lost in the music. It was like a hard reset, booting up muscle memory and recalibrating mindless movement that eventually finished a software update to reignite my broken spirit. Magic.

I’ve read that there are profound connections between music, movement, and human emotion. This was a metaphysical monument of brand-new choreography to add to this year’s recital. And we aren’t even halfway to the ending yet. My heart finally basked in a soothing self-care session. My soul accepted the required homework on the importance of rest being equally beneficial as constantly doing the work.

(6) June | Johnny Tokyo, Man on TV

Summer Showing Up

The end of June marks the first epic annual festival of the season: Mojo Family Fest in Oregon, put on by legends Bodhi Mojo. Out of the 25 bands playing over the weekend, Seattle was represented by only two small acts: Eclectrick (3 piece) and Man on TV (4 piece)—a much smaller ratio than in past years. Both acts were set on the smaller stage, back to back, and right before the legends themselves were to take the main stage and the full attention of every attendee present. Light rain began moments before my boys’ set times, and adjustment was needed on the fly while crowds died down to just a handful of us—waiting patiently and shimmering, right as rain. With only minimal delays, their sound waves quickly fill the air; and it was clear as day they had finally tuned into their magic. Though it wasn't visible from where I was dancing, I bet there was a rainbow.

Since my first introduction to MoT, the group has had nonstop changes. I have mad hatter’s respect for those guys for never giving up; that Mojo set was seared in my heart. The masses who had earlier feared melting in the rain began rolling back in, and it felt like everyone on Mother Nature’s dance floor was singing along to this song. I’m pretty sentimental about this set because you’ll hear about it again in September’s chapter. Bonus: You can find a recap video of this weekend on my IG through my profile. It officially sounded like summer and it was a hit.

(7) July | Blue, Billie Eilish

Black, White, and Blue All Over

This was one of those songs that I kept on repeat for the sole purpose of wanting to believe the lyrics as I sang them over and over. “I’d like to mean it when I say I’m over you.” (In my case, more the situation than the con artist dirtbag) I wanted to not hate anyone, I wanted to not blame anyone, and I knew I needed to accept I was unable to change anyone. This year’s lesson was purposefully dragged out, reflected in slo-mo, and sat with longer than comfortable by any means, to be remembered and reapplied every year that follows. Because for the past six months, I had let this thing define me and consented to be stalked by it. I was a drag and a half. But I remember this month’s song choice vividly, and I shouldn’t leave out the fact that being in Bend for a couple of Whalien shows also played a part. Together, they brought out the sunshine to defrost me while the rhythm urged me to spin in circles around my feels instead.

(8) August | Disco Snails, Vulfmon, Zachary Barker

Spotify Wrapped MVP

These two are lyrical geniuses, and it’s mad inspiring. “Disco What?” This was my number one most played and grooving to, all-around, best primo banger tune, kindly sent and shared by a faraway friend whom I only know through the con artist himself. I must note the little things that can change the vibration of an otherwise torturous recollection. My therapist has taught me that rewriting the narrative of my story can change dead leaves into vibrant, mossy runways. (my words from session sentiments) And “Why can’t it be both?” is one of her favorite retorts I have learned to love. Take the good with the bad. Sit with the pains, but also get up and dance for the gains!

(9) September | No Occasion, Karina Rykman

Inspirational Tales

I was dumbfounded when I first heard this live in the middle of a festival I had just realized I shouldn’t have tried so hard to squeeze into the year. Her uncanny words and straightforward but impressive baselines began to swallow me whole and I was pleased to be the food she and her crew were playing with. Recurring signs of being surrounded by the wrong company were becoming overwhelming at Cascade Equinox but then she changed up the beat and created a harmonious spotlight on my unaccompanied dancing. As I weaved in and out of a sea of strangers, bedazzled with silly, googly eyes and a long, white furry tail, I giggled to myself and knew I could come out of this yet again less-than-stellar situation with poise and the right kind of noise.

The first thing I did when I got home was document a segment that had been rolling in the back of my mind for some time: SOF. Essentially, the purpose is to feature my favorite song of the festival. Is it just me or does anyone else have one song that sticks with them the most after a jam-packed weekend of every soundboard record in the book? There’s something about a more or less mere 5 minutes making the most impact. And getting stuck in your head. I strongly feel like recognizing such a feat! This one made my idea into a tangible featured list I intend on keeping current— as well as revealed the s/o to MoT’s Johnny Tokyo from MFF.

(10) October | Got to Be Who U Are, Ibibio Sound Machine

International Crossover Episode

Sometimes the universe works in the strangest ways. I distinctly remember sharing this song with Connor during a road trip to Oregon for a Cytrus show last year. Just a month later, it was announced that Ibibio Sound Machine and Cytrus would be playing together in October. The serendipity was surreal.

I’ve never experienced such a perfectly paired bill of two bands—both equally dynamic and electrifying in their own unique ways. The vibes were unparalleled, both nights in Seattle and Portland. Being part of that energy, witnessing those exceptional musicians, and sharing the moments with that rad group of humans was an unforgettable highlight of the year. I’m endlessly grateful to have been there for it all.

(11) November | Good Vibes, Eclectrick

My 5 Minutes of Fame

Filming for this music video started back in June— this was the first music video I was asked to star in, with my only previous experience being the BTS roller, editor, and producer. What can I say? Obsessed with the final edit, in awe of this band’s power dynamic (they are all Virgos), honored to the max, and still processing, honestly. It is a little kooky to step in front of the camera and see my energy immortalized in this visual celebration of positivity. Even after the biggest attempt to steal my joy just earlier this year. Sucks to suck. I’m still having my golden moments despite it. Hehe

(12) December | Vol. 3 #86 (Live), Dopapod

Tempo Modulation Whore, I mean, Galore

Son of a bad dog. Ending the year on a new note. Sometimes, a song speaks to me seductively through notes and rhythm, and sometimes, I am lured in by a lyrical love. I am uneducated about the complete story of this band, but I know they have a thing for palindromes. I can’t help but chuckle at being a regular hardcore wordplay lover to the core but, for this specific discovery, being whisked away by the chaos of their musical storytelling. A peek-a-boo view of a memorable, instrumentally diverse enlightened reveling.

Their November 3rd show at The Crocodile blew my socks off and might have changed the way I think about music. While it didn’t redefine everything, it sparked profound shifts in my perspective and curiosity in diving deeper into musical studies.

I like to metaphorically describe this song as a nice, long, strong acid trip. There are so many different parts that serve a different purpose, the next one as surprising as the last. And all the back-and-forth moods of play and timing made one hell of an impression on yours truly.

As 2024 draws to a close, I ruminate on a year defined by changing my tempo, beat by beat. Music’s unmatched power has guided me through a timeless journey of reframing, strength training, and transmogrification. Whether walking, dancing or simply being still, these songs didn’t just accompany me—they became my compass. How could I not continue to answer the call of that groovy disco ball? Because this year’s score struck a chord, and I’m perfectly floored. (bars)