Monday Mixtapes II: Decembers in Detroit, Santa Fe, or San Diego

(Editor's Note: I don't mean to keep you in suspense about the Jones Soda! It's just that I promised a friend I'd take some up to Los Angeles to try, and I won't have had a chance until tomorrow or so. I should have the thrilling conclusion just in time for the New Year.)

This particular Monday is December 25th, and personally I'm listening to nothing but A Christmas Gift for You From Phil Spector. However, recently I dug out this tape that my friend Ami made for me a couple years ago for an online mixtape trade thing. She actually made me a two-volume set, her interpretation of Summer and Winter in Michigan. It's the latter I've been really into lately, because even though I'm halfway across the country I don't think my winter's been very different.

The songs on the mix are soft and cold, and feel like falling in snow. (Or quiet rain, I guess, for purposes of California winters.) The longing and a slight isolated sadness run constant, no matter whether you live next to the ocean or a lake. Seriously, I'm a little jealous of my friends' mixtape-making skills. This one's pretty brilliant.

Winter in Michigan: Even Detroit Has a Skyline

1. Death Cab For Cutie ~ Title Track
2. Blonde Redhead ~ Elephant Woman
3. Modest Mouse ~ Out of Gas
4. Longwave ~ Tidal Wave
5. Pixies ~ Where is my Mind
6. Sufjan Stevens ~ For the Widows in Paradise; For the Fatherless in Ypsilanti
7. Beulah ~ I'll Be Your Lampshade
8. Nico ~ These Days
9. Jawbreaker ~ Ache
10. Tracy + The Plastics ~ Spine Eater
11. Le Tigre ~ Eau d'Bedroom Dancing
12. The Postal Service ~ Against All Odds
13. Jets to Brazil ~ Sea Anemone
14. The Unicorns ~ 52 Favorite Things
15. Lucero ~ Kiss the Bottle
16. Hayden ~ Bad as They Seem
17. Superchunk ~ Detroit Has a Skyline
18. Two Lone Swordsmen ~ It's Not the Worst I've Looked, Just The Most I've Ever Cared

Some of the songs I knew well, and some I heard from the first time on the tape, but they all fit together so seamlessly that it almost made me feel bad for not having heard of everyone already. Even some songs I thought I'd hate–I'm not a big every day Le Tigre fan, for instance–are strikingly perfect in context.

If books could have soundtracks, in the future I'd want this to be on one of mine. I haven't talked to Ami in a while, and I feel now like I really should. Internet friends are a tough thing to keep, even when they have impeccable enough taste to send you Rap Snacks. Even if they come completely crushed and busted in the mail parcel post, it still doesn't get much more brilliant.