As another exhausting and demented year comes to a merciful end, we’ve earned a little fun.

Here are five joyous songs that make me smile whenever I hear them. Three of these tracks are thirty years old; the other two are pushing twenty-five—these are nostalgic songs, and I hope you’ll enjoy revisiting them. Or better yet, having a first encounter.

Mike Dunn - God Made Me Phunky
MD-Express, 1994
Possibly the most righteous loop ever made: built from a piano that burrows its way into your soul and makes a very nice home for Mike Dunn to sound like the coolest earthling to ever spend time on this planet. 

SoleTech - Sole Waves
Detrechno, 1994 | More
This track is both ridiculous and also the best-ever use of a Kraftwerk sample. In the summer of ’94, “chuck chuck” earwormed everyone in the metropolitan Detroit area and improbably became the most requested song on the radio for a few weeks, which might be the easiest way to explain to someone why Detroit is a very special place. It also prepared me for my encounters with the Electrifying Mojo, Deep Space Radio, and Basic Channel.

Detroit Grand Pubahs - If Snow Was Black
Intuit Solar, 1999
One of the most underrated songs I know, this track sounds like the steam that billows from Detroit’s streets on a subzero January night, and Paris the Black Fu’s voice will live in your head all winter if you’re lucky: If snow was black, I’d wear black shades and drive a black car. I’d smoke black cigarettes and hide in the shadows…

Quarks - I Walk (Superpitcher Schaffel Mix)
Kompakt, 2002 | More
We were in our early twenties, logging time at Other Music, Kim’s, Tonic, and the Bunker—and music-wise, Komapkt reigned supreme. We didn’t try to emulate their sound, but they reminded us that electronic music could be monumental and fun, and this is a lesson I still carry into my writing and other personal pursuits: I’d better be having a good time because I’m sure as hell not doing it for the money.

Basic Channel - Phylyps Trak II
Chain Reaction, 1994 | More
In January of ’95, I snuck out alone to St. Andrew’s Hall to check out a hip-hop show I’ve long since forgotten. But I remember the militant thump thump that drew me upstairs to the dark third floor with windows that overlooked the city. I’d never seen humanity like this: club kids in overalls, drag queens in chartreuse wigs, a man in a three-piece suit, all lock-stepping in a perfect grid, their heads bowed before the bassbin like an altar, which soon I learned it was.

The request lines are open.

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