fields of muted hues (jazz & soul for autumn)
I love making seasonal playlists. They provide the soundtrack to a period of weeks, or months, that feels distinct from what comes before or after. This autumn, I’m feeling melancholic about it being my final year at Kenyon –– it’s the last time I’ll see Gambier’s beautiful display of fall colors on Middle Path and in our surrounding woods. The last time I’ll carefully curate a collection of songs to listen to during this particular season, as I’m attending this particular school. Eek! So, I’m doubling down on observance. On trying to be present. On turning the volume all the way up in my headphones. This autumn feels different than previous years: I’m more aware of time passing, of how much I’ve changed from one season to the next, across my 4 years here. And for me, jazz and soul music are often the best modes of encapsulating these feelings of wonder at the natural world as well as a profound case of the daylight savings blues.
“fields of muted hues” is distinct from the themed playlists I’ve made for the darkest days of winter –– arguably, late January to early February at Kenyon –– which feature a mix of slow songs that indulge the quiet sadness of 5 pm sunsets and grey snow-slush on the ground, and more upbeat tracks to ground myself in the present. Most of these tracks share a similar aura, and relatively similar tempos and moods. This collection of gently hopeful songs mimics our current surroundings at Kenyon –– the colors are starting to grow muted, but there is still so much beauty and joy all around. Every tree is an ecosystem, every gold-speckled leaf is a work of art. My favorite season is quickly passing me by, drowned out by the craziness of senior capstone projects and midterm exams, but these songs help me feel held in love & light as the leaves change.
This mix of 30 songs showcases a healthy mix of classic and contemporary: vocal jazz standards, instrumental grooves from Brazil, Ethiopia, Japan, and more, ‘souldies,’ and recent finds of mine that seem perfectly suited to this time of year. Also featured: a touch of ethereal, space-age sounds (Azymuth and the late great Quincy Jones, naturally), 60s-70s R&B, and some obligatory Ella Fitzgerald. As always, I find myself turning to music to mark time, to serenade me on long hikes in this little pocket of rural Ohio I’ve come to love so well, and to help me document my life. This is what I’m listening to –– and to me, this particular flavor of music pairs exceptionally well with my mood these late autumn days, and the task of looking for fleeting glimpses of light through the trees.
I hope the transition from fall to winter is kind to you all.
Listen in order, xo