Of all the seasons, fall descends—a cliché so apt as to buck the label. Summer’s elation settles and forms a gelatin of peace. The brain works better in these prime and perfect temperatures. Give your ears a bath with these songs of soothing shadow.

I’m taking a break this week to watch the leaves change. Fall hit us all at once here in the South, and I think we should all go out and take a drive to the highest peak we can find. Gaze out at nature’s colorful rhythm.

These summer songs are for the eager sun and the relief of the hazy moon. In the heat, our sweat casts pheromonal spells — even the tiger is susceptible to pathogens of desire.

Try sustaining equilibrium and you'll find that it's impossible. Will we ever reach a self that takes only what we can give? Ever give enough to match what we extract? It's a wicked concept forged in the fires of ideals, like justice or closure or the perfect way to load a dishwasher.

I need a break between the decade list and the year-end list, so here's a utilitarian playlist for the holidays. Put it on to run interference for those pesky memories of defunct relationships that always ring your mental doorbell in the middle of the holiday party and ruin the eggnog.

I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling a little heat-madness from this summer sun. Like if I slip I might float away, you know the feeling? If not, these songs will explain.

It's the longest day of the year, and I'm breaking my one rule—this playlist will be long to match. These songs are the playlist breakers, the ones you can never include because they're too damn tangential. But now they’re all in one place at long last. Nothing under seven minutes.

Today I'm here with another Earwyrms Essential, and this time it's the Snow Playlist, the one you put on if you're ever stuck having to walk home in a flurry.

I now have an audience for whom I can lay down the final ranking of the Best Christmas Songs, so we can settle the debate that's been keeping us up at night for years, and we can finally stop sacrificing our children at the altar of the War on Christmas.

It's finally here: the smell of fallen leaves; stepping over pumpkins; browns and reds and golds; driving around pumpkins; hay-rack rides; pumpkins in the bathroom; sweaters and jeans; swim through pumpkins to unlock your door. Fall shit.

Frequent readers will know that Western Africa is one of my favorite parts of the world, so my expectations were already high when I secured a lift to Bamako.