Meet My Favorite Song, “Favorite Song”
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Spotify recently released their annual year-in-review…experience?, which is pretty much the only year-end content I care about (sorry, “Auld Lang Syne”). I love reflecting on the flavor of my year through the songs I had on repeat — taken in sum, they reveal the unconscious layers of an era, details that would have otherwise escaped my awareness: my shifting moods, where I directed my attention, what I wanted to say but didn’t (or did).
Much like 2020, my Top 100 is all over the place. It’s obvious the year has permeated my psyche and yes, my musical preferences: the instrumentals I played through headphones as my old roommate took Zoom meetings at her desk, 10 feet away from mine; the more-than-a-few songs on the theme of desire; the remnants of those last pre-pandemic concerts and karaoke nights.
And then there’s the song that transports me to a place where none of this shit is even on my radar:
“Favorite Song” by Sinkane evokes springtime and timelessness, simplicity and the Electric Slide. It does not aim to make you feel smart, deep, or relevant — it just wants to make you feel good. Honestly, it makes me feel more-than-good… like I belong to another reality, one in which I’m 8 years old, 66 years old, and unborn, all at the same time. It’s become the unofficial soundtrack to my social-distance hangs, my Pokemon Go walks, and my sad little attempts to maintain my own landscaping. That’s how it became my third-most-played song of the year… even though it was released in 2017 and contains so many elements of bygone eras that it transcends modern notions of time. (Can we get rid of time, already? Who’s still using it?)
I want to sell you on this, my Favorite Song, but words can’t do it justice. Sometimes, a thing just needs to be experienced and enjoyed. So I hope that’s what you do — and that it gives you the same joy it gives me. I don’t need to know you personally to know that you’ve earned it.
Post-script: I’ve listened to this song approximately 70 times today trying to articulate its je nais se quoi, and now all I want is more feel-good shit. Because of that, I’m sharing a bonus bop — #19 on my Top 100, “Sexual” by NEIKED f. Dyo — and asking that you share yours. It’s still autumn in Los Angeles, and I’ve got leaves to rake.
