The Playlist That Knows Me: Music Speaks When Words Can’t
Song Of The Week
Crank up those quirky vibes because this week’s auditory tickle comes courtesy of Half•Alive with their track, "Still Feel". A buoyant blend of indie pop and existential wonder, this song prances through the mazy garden of emotions, leaving us humming along to its infectious rhythm while contemplating life’s big questions.
From the get-go, "Still Feel" dives headfirst into the dilemma of feeling lost and yet so vibrantly alive. The beat is like a spring breeze, capturing the essence of youthful exuberance and reflective melancholy—quite the paradox, isn’t it?
The chorus is where it all comes together in a bubble of exuberant confetti, beckoning you to embrace your quirks and follies. It's as if they're saying, “Hey, it’s okay to feel a bit lost—you’re still here, still feeling!” You can't help but sway your head (maybe even your hips) as they unravel the complex tapestry of human emotion into something poetically delightful.
Get in the Groove
There’s a part of me that lives in sad indie girl songs, and another that only wakes up when the beat drops in chaotic hyperpop. Both are me. Both are true. I remember vividly being twelve and discovering screamo and punk rock for the first time. I had my own room at the time, which felt like freedom—so yeah, I played my music on blast. And by “blast,” I mean the lowest volume possible... because screamo is inherently loud. My parents would still tell me to turn it down, but what they didn’t know was: I already had. Growing up in a predominantly white area, dressing in all black with thick eyeliner was the thing. I leaned in. I listened loud (quietly). And honestly? I don’t regret it one bit. Looking back, I think I was trying to say something I didn’t have the words for and music gave me that language. Nietzsche once said, “Without music, life would be a mistake.” And honestly, I get it now. Music wasn’t just background noise or aesthetic—it was how I existed in the world. It translated emotions I didn’t know how to explain, gave shape to what felt unshaped inside me.
Music has always done that—not just for the people who make it, but for the ones who listen. That’s why I genuinely believe it’s the most powerful art form out there.
When a song hits, it’s not because it’s technically “good.” It’s because it feels good. Like the beat and the instruments are syncing with something in your body, starting in your chest and radiating all the way to your fingertips. It’s a feeling you didn’t know someone else could articulate—until a lyric, a harmony, a distorted scream captures it for you. And suddenly… you get it.
If you’ve never had that feeling, I seriously recommend switching up your rotation. Try music that lifts you instead of draining you. And if you don’t know where to start? I have one word for you: Florence + the Machine. Well I guess that was a couple…
Back in my punk era, I also met Florence + the Machine. It truly was love at first listen. I couldn’t get enough; I went through Lungs like a kid at a candy store and pretty soon after I downloaded the “Florence + the Machine” playlist to my Ipod. That was 12 years ago! And that’s not even the crazy part, I still get chills and full body sensation when I listen to that same album. I believe that’s what makes music sacred. It cuts through the explanation. It bypasses logic, judgment, and even time. For me, it gave permission. Permission to be a hopeless romantic. To be dramatic. To cry as a drive over nothing and everything.
Woosh, Woosh, Woosh
But just as music can let you sink into a feeling, it can also shake you out of one. Enter: hyperpop.Where Florence whispered truths through cathedral echoes and orchestral swells, hyperpop screams them through pixelated synths and glitchy chaos. It’s maximalist, messy, fast, and always different—and yet, somehow, it hits just as hard.
Hyperpop doesn’t ask permission to feel. Instead, it sends you into this world wind of energy and passion and not for the artist but for that specific song only. Songs that make you want to break dance, throw your ass around, or robot for no reason at all. And honestly? That’s another kind of sacred. It’s not about polish or perfection—it’s about release. About energy. About becoming completely unhinged in the best way possible. Plato once called music “A moral law... it gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination.” When I listen to music I imagine myself in the clurb, in a toxic situationship, in a music video, a gangsta etc. Music can also let you escape reality and just for a minute and thirty seconds transport you to another universe.
Especially after work on a Friday, with the sun still up—this is the vibe I crave. Freedom. Confidence. Fierceness. I throw on my shades, roll the windows down, and zoom down the freeway with the music all the way up.It’s how I decompress from the week. A release of all the pent-up feelings and tension. That way, by the time I pull into my driveway, I’m not anxious Janessa or pissed-off Janessa. I’m me. The real me.
And maybe that’s what music does best—it lets all the versions of me exist without conflict. The soft, moody indie girl. The chaotic hyperpop junkie.The romantic Florence lover. The girl crying at stoplights and the one dancing in the mirror twenty minutes later. They all live in the same playlist. They all belong. Music doesn’t ask me to pick one version of myself. It just plays—loud and shamelessly—and in doing so, gives me the space to be whole. To be messy. To feel deeply and loudly, quietly and wildly. To be in pieces and still okay. Every song I love has, in some way, taught me how to be myself. Or reminded me that I already am me.
Music isn’t just a sound I hear—it’s a sound that knows me. And the more I look at my playlist, the more I realize: it’s telling a story I didn’t even realize I was writing. Music is a part of my personality and it is probably yours too. It can define us, connect us and revolutionize us. It really is that girl. And now, with over 70 songs on TUT’s playlist, it’s grown into something bigger than me. It’s its own person. Its own vibe. A living, breathing soundtrack to the questions, moods, and moments that shape me. What makes it even more special now is how these songs have started to reflect my writing, too. Each one pulls me back into a moment, a feeling, a paragraph I once poured myself into. They’re bookmarks in my creative journey—little echoes of the thoughts I was trying to untangle. So yeah. Music’s not just in the background anymore. It’s part of the story and one I plan to keep forever.
Self conscious for what?
I used to be so self-conscious about the music I liked. I felt like I had to explain it, justify it—make it make sense to other people. But over time, I’ve realized: the songs I love don’t need defending. They’re mine. They feel like me. “Still Feel.” by Half•Alive is one of those songs. It’s bold, cinematic, and unpredictable—just like the week I’ve had. Just like life, honestly. So if you’ve ever felt weird or unsure about your taste in music, I hope this post reminds you: your playlist is your fingerprint. It doesn’t have to impress anyone. It just has to move you. What songs are part of your story? Let’s keep building this soundtrack together.
Enjoy This Journey With Me
° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °
Enjoy This Journey With Me ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °
This isn’t the end—just a bookmark in the conversation. Stories don’t really close; they ripple, shift, and find new voices. If this one stirred something in you, let it breathe. Leave a thought, challenge an idea, or carry it forward in your own way. And if you ever feel like wandering through more unfinished thoughts, you know where to find me. Let’s keep the ripples going. ~XOXO
