Every year, on or about April 8, I make a mixtape that I share with a few friends. First came “Mix 26” (2005), then “27 - Out with the :-(, in with the :-)” (2006), and “28 - Is It Too Late? (2007, never released). Now, as I turn 30 (and to show my appreciation to the Whatsit community), I bring you the latest installment: “29 was fine, I guess.”

To be honest, since its first, clumsy iteration, this project has been completely, unrepentantly, and obviously self-indulgent. But, since it’s my birthday, that’s ok, right?

So. Originally, my intent was to celebrate my day by giving gifts to others. I like gifting. Good times. And mixtapes make great gifts. However, I can see how some people might find the whole birthday mix a bit arrogant, and I’ll happily admit a degree of egotism. Anyway, should I reminisce a bit about the previous year? It was fine, I guess. Life’s gotten much better in the past few years. On my 26th birthday, a man in an Illinois gas station told me “the second quarter-century is much better than the first, believe me.” He’s been right so far.

29 was a strange year. In no particular order: My last grandparent died. I had an epiphany that completely changed the way I think about romantic relationships. I saw the most beautiful woman ever. I passed the Art History department’s comprehensive exam. I found a thesis topic, an advisor, and a reader. I met the most beautiful woman ever (and quite fortuitously, I might add). I wrote a thesis. I made some new friends and strengthened bonds with other friends. I found out the most beautiful woman ever likes girls. I had an article published (but the journal spelled my name wrong, so was I published? or was it someone else who wrote a paper remarkably similar to mine who got published?).

Ok. Enough of that. Let’s get to the music.

Here’s a tracklist:

Heart of Glass—The Bad Plus
Where There’s A Will There’s A Whalebone—Islands
See You At The Lights—1990s
Saturdays (Reprise)—Cut Copy
Nobody Knows You When You’re Down And Out—Nina Simone
Spinning Away—Brian Eno & John Cale
Message in a Bottle—Andy Milne
Disconnect—Ima Robot
Puttin’ On The Ritz—Shiny Toy Guns
Dirtywhirl—TV On The Radio
Drive-In Saturday—David Bowie
Too Drunk To Fuck—Nouvelle Vague
Stormy Weather—Curtis Fuller
Cake Parade—Georgie James
Strangers—The Kinks
If I Could Cry (it would feel like this)—Jens Lekman
Hoppípolla—Sigur Rós
Collarbone—Fujiya & Miyagi
We Throw Parties, You Throw Knives—Los Campesinos!
The Wrath of Marcie—The Go! Team

Should I attempt some sort of narrative about 29 based around these tracks? Hum. Maybe I’ve said enough. For those of you who don’t care, go ahead, download the mix here and get back to work.

For those of you with time to waste, read on.

I love The Bad Plus. Though I do indeed have a heart of glass, there’s something triumphant and/or resistant about this cover. 29 began in the midst of another failed attempt at romance. Things were not going well, but I was determined (as determined as I ever get, anyway).

I was a huge fan of the Unicorns, and usually put a Unicorns track on every mixtape. I couldn’t find a proper Unicorns song for this mix, so I give you Islands. While Islands are 2/3 of the Unicorns, I can’t really get behind their first album. I do like this track, though, especially the middle section, and it took all my will to continue the pursuit of the wrong woman.

Here my soft spot for sugary pop rears its ugly head. 1990s fits the bill perfectly, and “See You At The Lights” is a perfect sing-along, just after a late spring rain, while driving to meet up with a woman for an afternoon sipping coffee and wandering around Borders, especially when she’s wearing a dress that her mom wouldn’t like.

Cut Copy’s reprise of Saturdays describes the end of my most recent whole-hearted attempt at romance. It just fizzled. I’d call the number but never get through. Bummer.

While it’s (not quite) true that “Nobody Knows You When You’re Down And Out,” for Nina Simone this doesn’t seem like much of a problem. Though I was a bit down, I was never out. Not entirely, anyway. Then my grandfather died, and things began to spin away.

I discovered Brian Eno only about a year ago. I love the early pop stuff (post Roxy Music, pre 1980), but this track with John Cale (from 1990’s “Wrong Way Up”) is fantastic. (I don’t like the rest of the album, though. It all sounds like bad, late-80s, early 90s sappy adult pop, not that there’s anything wrong with that.) As my Mom put it, with the death of the last grandparent, I became the adult generation and she became the senior generation. Whee. About this time, I had the epiphany.

I won’t bore you with the details, but it left me adrift in a sea of self-pity. Andy Milne’s cover of “Message in a Bottle” captures the sensation nicely. Does anyone else hear a switch from electronic keyboard to baby grand around minute 3 or is it my imagination? It’s probably all synthesizer, but it sounds good anyway. eMusic suggested Andy Milne to me a couple of months ago, after their computer noticed that I tend to download solo piano and jazz. Yep.

As one might imagine, between death and an epiphany that would forever change the way I view romantic pursuits, I was left feeling a bit Disconnected. The new-ish Ima Robot (I guess it’s a couple of years old now) is not nearly as good as their debut self-titled, which finally got me to guitar music after a long hiatus in hip hop. “Monument to the Masses” brings some line-up changes that alter the band’s sound, and even Alex’s voice has taken a turn for the prettier, but the album has its moments.

So when you live on Long Island, are feeling blue, and don’t know what to do, jump on the LIRR and get to where Rockafellas walk with sticks and umbrellas in their mitts. Jump out at Penn Station, wander into the city, find some great (or mediocre) art in Chelsea, visit the Asia Society or MoMA, spend all afternoon in a bar on 56th, stagger down to the Village or Chinatown in search of dinner, eat some dim sum, spend some more time in a bar looking out at the people coming home from work or going out to dinner, wander in to a bodega, pick up a six or twelve and get on the 11:30 train back to the Island. That’s what I do, anyway.

On a trip to TX, I met up with an old flame. I described the epiphany to her and she suggested that perhaps I just wanted to have some fun. So, we did the old Drive-In Saturday, sans drive-in—really dinner and bar hopping—and found ourselves on a futon back at her place. Alas. I was too drunk. (Probably worked out for the best, really. We’re both somewhat damaged and blind-drunk fucking would have been no good for either of us.)

Back on the Island, I sank into a sort of depression. But I found a thesis topic, confirmed advisors, and learned that a paper I wrote (Postmodern? Art and Architecture in National Socialist Germany) had been accepted for publication in Art Criticism. Curtis Fuller’s reading of “Stormy Weather” (with Red Garland, Sonny Red, Paul Chambers, and Louis Hayes) is exactly what I needed.

Every good compilation needs an anti-war song, especially given the gang of war criminals currently occupying the White House and environs. “Cake Parade” is so perky and happy: if you’re not pumping your fist or nodding your head, you better check your pulse. It was about this time that I saw the most beautiful woman ever. Cute, gorgeous, exotic, she’s got it all. I was at a lecture (I don’t remember who or what), turned around and BAM! God almighty. I should have gone to her right then, and asked to take her to dinner, for drinks, for coffee, whatever. But the blasted epiphany foiled any of that. Drat.

Yep. I saw Darjeeling Limited. But I was already a Kinks fan, having illegally downloaded their entire discography in 2005 (when I had no qualms about illegal downloads). I began to perk up a bit. Life’s not all bad. It’s a hell of a thing to happen to a person, but things usually work out. As the Spring semester began, I realized that the most beautiful woman ever was in one of my classes. Oh happy day? Hardly. All I could do was stare at her. I’m sure I seemed pretty creepy.

This Jens Lekman track reminds me of the Avalanches. Does anyone else hear it? I used to be a good crier. But my tear ducts seem to have dried a bit over the past few years. I would love to have a good cry:

I suppose I’m in the aloof, jerk phase. Hopefully, one of these days, I can have a nice cry. You might recall the Town Crier. I’m jealous.

Then, one day, on a flight back to the Island from a conference, I was arranging myself in my seat while other passengers boarded, and who did I see shuffling down the isle? Yep. The most beautiful woman ever. Wracked with nerves, I prayed that no one else would sit next to me, that the seat would remain open for 6 or 7 minutes, and the most beautiful woman ever would sit next to me. All sorts of fantasies ran through my head. (I’ll leave the details to you, dear reader.) Anyway, a mother-daughter duo sat down next to me. If Sigur Rós was ever called for (and they regularly are) this was the time. For those of you unfamiliar with Icelandic (like me) “Hoppípolla” translates, roughly, to “hop in puddles.” You should check out the video.

When the plane landed, I rushed to the baggage carousel. Several minutes passed. As the most beautiful woman ever approached, I tried to look unimpressed, uninterested, etc. She settled in to wait for her bags. I approached and introduced myself. We had a very pleasant conversation for 20 or 25 minutes, the bags came, and I split. Oh Happy Day. I wanted to hop in puddles, but there were only snow drifts outside. So I made a quick snow angel on the sidewalk before running for my buddy’s car.

I started chatting her up weekly during the break in our seminar, but never got up the nerve to ask her out. (The epiphany, again.) Then came the realization: I gotta get a new pair of shoes to kick it with her. Alas. Really, given the damned epiphany, I should’ve known. Anyway, while it’s great that I can blow smoke rings, I wouldn’t be able to taste her lips even if she did like boys.

The Go! Team seems like a good way to end the 29 story. I can’t understand a word they say, but this track makes me bounce around, St. Vitus-like, pumping fists in triumph, doing faux-karate moves, poking out my tongue and flashing the horned hand at passersby. Yippee!

Did I say something about self-indulgence? Ha. If you read this long, kudos and thanks for indulging me.

I’ve been 30 for a full day, now. It’s really not much different from 29 or 28, but in a month I’ll be James, Master of Art History and Criticism (and Cultural Studies). I’m an adult, whatever that means. I may have never enjoyed a loving adult relationship, but I’ve grown comfortable with myself and the sun is shining. That’s something, right?

A note about the mix: Dave sent me some instructions on how to create a playlist and upload it to divshare, but only after I had done a much more complex procedure. Anyway, if you load the songs from this playlist into iTunes you can easily find the tracks. They’re all part of an album called “29 was fine, I guess.” Smart playlist or search will find all the tracks, and iTunes should see them as an album and put them in the proper order. If you missed it the first two times, here’s the link again.

Thanks for indulging me. Enjoy the mix.