Alright. So I’m going to be honest with you guys but I need you to promise not to tell my wife. While growing up in Michigan for most of my life I did nothing but bitch and complain about the snow and six months of winter. I mean, I really pitched a fit about it every time I could to anyone who would listen. I have since moved to a nice Mid-Atlantic state where it snows twice a year and life is great. But around this time of year I start to get nostalgic about those times I had to hoof it with my brother eight blocks up the road in a snowstorm to go play pool and bully the jukebox at the local bar in our hillbilly town. We would always have some new music playing on a phone in our pockets as our almost frostbit hands tried to light another cigarette in the darkness of 6pm. We’d have a couple of pocket beers for the walk which always ended up frozen. I hated it then and dreamed of never having to dig ice out of the inside of my shoes. And yet, here we are. Making a playlist that takes me back to those fucking cold ass walks, helping my buddies push their Cutlass Sierra out of a snow bank, and racking up parking tickets for leaving my car parked on the street during a blizzard. To quote the late Rick James, “Nostalgia is a hell of a drug.” Or maybe it was cocaine. I’ve never done cocaine so I’m going to stick with the former for simplicity sake.

So I had this really cheap apartment in Harrison Township just north of Detroit a little bit and my brother came over for a visit. It was January and we had a few beverages then headed down the street to Terry’s Terrace. It was a couple blocks away and there was a couple feet of snow so it wasn’t the worst walk of our lives. On our 10ish minute walk I told him about this band from Wisconsin I just found and he should check it out. He and I have played in a few bands together over the years so we really get each others taste in music. We listened to parts of the Domespliter EP by Direct Hit! and had a great time. After the bar we walked back to my apartment as the snow came down and continued our adventure into Direct Hit! and he continued to drink vodka cranberries. Right about the time “We Are Alone” came on, he had the craziest look in his eyes and said something about stepping outside for a smoke. “Cool,” I said and went out with him just in time to watch him throw up a stomachs worth of vodka cranberry down the five balconies below my apartment. Thus creating a giant red arrow in the snow down the side of my building pointing to the apartment that likes to party. And what better soundtrack to have going than a Midwest band themselves, Direct Hit! That night was hilarious.

Rewind a few years from the last story to November 2009. I was working at a big box retail store and going to school in western Michigan just trying not to be a dirt bag 20 year old. I had this red 1991 Mazda MX-6 GT that didn’t have heat. I had just gone through a rough breakup so I was working extra hours to stay out of trouble and still spending way too much time partying with my college buddies in Kalamazoo, about 45 minutes from where I lived. During my constant travels from home, to school, to work, then to Kalamazoo and back home, I landed in a deep Lawrence Arms shuffle. This may have caused some new synapses to form relating depressing Michigan winters to the Larry Arms. Or it could be the fact that 4 hours west is Chicago and they go through the same terrible season we do in Michigan. Either way, Apathy and Exhaustion and Oh! Calcutta are purely winter albums and there is no way around it. If I had a nickel for every time I played “Boatless Booze Cruise” in that mind numbingly cold MX-6 on I-94 going to Kzoo, I’d be a goddamned millionaire.

In stark contrast to the Lawrence Arms above, this next band makes excellent winter music even though they may have originated in Florida, at least in part. They now reside in Iowa so, yeah, they have tire chains in their trunks for sure, regardless of their legality. This was a band I found after moving out of the Midwest and I remember driving through one of the few snow storms we’ve had since I’ve moved and was immediately taken back to the cold MX-6. There is pure Midwesterner in Rational Anthem and “Welcome to Paradise City” gives that same feeling of the Lawrence Arms and is starting to creep into my winter playlist more and more. Apparently allegedly they are in the process of making new music so in typical Midwest fashion, it’ll be released in the winter and become a new soundtrack to leafless trees and wind chapped faces.

Back to stories of being a young derelict in Kalamazoo. We have a bar just off of the downtown strip and this bar would often host local bands formed in the nearby Western Michigan University. Harveys on the Mall I believe was the name and I would often end up there with some friends to see what kind of local tunes we could get into. Next door to Harveys is the Kalamazoo State Theatre and they often hosted any number of unique performances. On one of these November nights, I was enjoying a nice Killians at Harveys and really getting into the band playing that night. Michigan had just outlawed smoking indoors so it was time for me to take my drunk ass outside and get some air. Outside I see a limousine with a large queue of people waiting to talk to who ever was in the car. That’s kind of interesting so I went around the corner to have a smoke and finish my beer and when I went to return to the local show, the line had died down for the mystery person in the limousine. I asked the security guard at the car, as sober as I could, who was in there. “Ian Anderson from Jethro Tull,” was his retort. I asked if I could say “hi” because, why not? “Sure, but he doesn’t shake hands so you if you want to touch him, you bump elbows.” Uh, okay. Kind of a weird way to phrase that but now I have to go through with this. So I walk up to the back window of the limo but the security guard keeps shuffling me towards the passenger side window. He’s sitting shotgun in HIS limo after HIS own solo concert at the Kalamazoo State Theatre. I bump elbows with Ian Anderson and shout “HEEEY AQUALUNG!” I am quickly whisked away from the limo and asked to leave Mr. Anderson alone. Fair enough. Anyway, I could hear Gunship Radio playing “Use Your Head, Kiddo” in the background. It was pretty sweet.

I’ll leave one last amusing anecdote about a song on my Midwest November playlist. This one is a lot less “being a drunk idiot” and a lot more “a classic mix up.” Spotify has a feature where you can invite someone to listen to the same thing you are no matter the distance. Spotify Party or Party Plan or something Party. Whatever. So I was out shoveling snow just trying to not lose my absolute living shit at the fact that I have to shovel snow in the first place. I had my brother and his buddy in the Playlist Party and was listening to Oh Snap! My brother’s friend then sends out an exclaimed text asking why we never showed him our new music and why we didn’t say anything about having our music on Spotify. Meanwhile, I am furiously shoveling snow getting more and more pissed off at whoever is texting me under four layers of clothing. I get done and go inside and I am livid. I have had to shovel snow for the first time in two years and my pants have just been vibrating for the past half hour. I finally read the text chain and find out that both my brother and his friend are upset that I didn’t let them know I had a band and we had music. Here’s the kicker. I’m not in Oh Snap! but apparently when I sing, I sound exactly like this dude and we have similar writing styles. It just makes me enjoy them more now. Much like Rational Anthem, they are apparently making new music as well so I can get mistaken for their singer again in the future. Also, they’re from Detroit. Pretty cool.

So, there are a few stories of times where snow was piling in my vans faster than it could melt and the accompanying soundtrack. While I am glad I no longer have to deal with cleaning up snow inside my house, or making sure I salt the sidewalks so I don’t kill myself walking outside, I still miss those times when I was miserable but had great people and great tunes to get us by.