The Divine Feminine

There's something about May that brings out a pink-lipped softness in me. A need to talk a little slower, a little quieter, a little like a new-age Daisy Buchanan. And that's peculiar in a thousand prismed ways: I'm a barker and a biter; a scrapper and a fighter. I smoke too many cigarettes and sometimes have the heaviest whisky breath in a bar. But when spring starts turning into a new kind of madness, I turn the opposite way. That heavy, grey cloud of sadness I so problematically associate with winter moves into heavy and hot summer rain. (When it rains, it pours.) Before you know it, it's breeding season: baby lambs and fuckboys swarm, and from my little place in the universe I can watch them—enjoying the new season's sun beating down on their young faces. (I don't eat lamb, but I do eat fuckboy.)

But, messy thoughts aside, this is a month for curating. If anything, May moving into June is a glorious time for unearthing new music. It's around this time, every year, when I move through Spotify like a shark hunting down, with scent and eye, the perfect summer tunes (old and new). And so far, I've got a few, and so far, I'd like to share some of them with you. From this end of the internet to yours, goodnight and good morning.