2025, a reflection.

December 30, 2025 by Lowndes Commander

2025 was all over the place: a swinging pendulum of late nights and early mornings, the comfort and monotony of settling into a life. It was vacillating between work fulfillment and restlessness, leaving one job, starting another. It was a cold winter weekend in Boston, warm spring in Austin, paradise summer in LA, and crisp autumn in New York. There were memorable birthdays and bike rides, a lot of Monday ocean dips and wine at the beach. Morning runs, evening walks, solo dinners.

A lot of loneliness and growing pains; a lot of friendship, too. I read fewer books than last year, but wrote a little more. Made a few really good soups (and some subpar ones), got a kitten that saved my life and broke me open (in a good way), and learned to be ok with solitude again (sort of). In short, this year was a kick in the teeth and also some of the most fun I’ve ever had. More-so than usual, I’m ready for whatever’s next.

xo,

FAVORITES OF 2025

ALBUMS (+ favorite track)

Bloodless - Samia (North Poles)

On first listen through, this record made me feel similarly to when I first heard The Baby— months later, it still does. A little brighter, it’s imbued with the kind of wisdom that only comes from growing up, which is probably why I clung to it so tightly. The chorus of ‘North Poles’ still ruins me. “When you see yourself in someone, how can you look at them?”

American Recordings - Truman Sinclair (Chicago Flood)

A record released on my favorite holiday (Valentines), I’d been anticipating this one for awhile. While ‘Pale Horse’ has yet to be contended with, these songs satisfied the part of me that really misses Pinegrove, and also another part of me that romanticizes the middle of nowhere.

Snocaps - Snocaps (I Don’t Want To)

Another Waxahatchee side project released right on time for me, just before I spent a weekend in New York in November. It’s got that signature Crutchfield wordiness that gives a passing thought meaning, and met me in the midst of a rough go. “Am I healing in the shade?”

SONGS

Dancing in the Club - This is Lorelai (MJ Lenderman version)

This one was on repeat more than any other— on neighborhood walks, planes, car rides. “A loser never wins, and I’m a loser, always been.” Somehow that line, low as it goes, seems to pick me up off the ground.

Sue Me - Audrey Hobert

The clear hit off of a really fun record I kept returning to this year. It doesn’t get any more plainly human than, “sue me I wanna be wanted.” It feels like both an excuse and an explanation for questionable behavior, and this year I felt the weight of that from both sides.

Silent Acknowledgement - Darryl Rahn

I first heard this one coming from a small speaker in the kitchen of a friend’s LA apartment. I like that feeling, when you just have to know what song is playing. Lyrically, it’s as introspective as it gets, and matched my headspace for most of this summer and fall.

Delete Ya - Djo

Sonically, this single embodied everything I love about carefree springtime, and it seemed like most people in my orbit felt that way too. A lot of anguish embedded in a fun windows-down guitar riff somehow makes so much sense.

Cinder Block - Samia

The song I fixated on the most this year, when it met me in a big moment of change. No chorus, just verses with short refrains, poetry as a song that was with me when I needed it, specifically this bit:

If I got what I wanted
Would I want the thing I got?
Make a mess or make a difference
But that's asking for a lot

BOOKS

My Friends - Fredrik Backman

A book about friendship; there aren’t enough of them, but this one was damn near perfect. “But how do I explain that I’m freezing to death if I’m not seen by you?”

Spectactular Things - Beck Dorey-Stein

A book about sisters, soccer, and deep sacrifice. Not necessarily a deeply relatable mix for me at first glance, but the words brought to life how scary and true it is to deeply want something, and also how brave it is to give that thing up.

Atmosphere - Taylor Jenkins Reid

Not what I expected, a book about astronauts. But it had me ugly crying in the end, in fits of sadness and relief.

2024, a reflection.

December 31, 2024 by Lowndes Commander

This year’s been… unexpected. Looking back at old words about years passed, I wonder if I still have it in me— the artfulness or the wherewithal to keep writing, even just for me. 2024 saw me move to the fifth city I’ve called home in my 20s; the tenth address. Another new zip code wasn’t exactly on my bingo card, but this home, lucky number 10, has somehow held all these proofs I’ve spent nearly a decade looking for.

I made the best version of ‘home’ I’ve ever had, filled each room with color and plants, and tiny trinkets. I logged 344 miles, running loops in parks and walking through the neighborhood to get tea and a croissant, or to drink wine with my friends. I recycled vacation destinations, and didn’t mind; it’s a sigh of relief really, to see new corners of old places. I started watching basketball in the heat of summer, and on some days, the act of cheering for something kept me afloat. I read 88 books, and felt the bittersweetness of a library card in a new county. In a sense, almost everything was new in that bittersweet way: jobs, friends, after-work haunts, running routes, drink orders. But in all of it, was the underscore that no matter where I live, I’m still me. At times it’s a comfort, other times a curse— but always always true.

A friend once told me, “if you can’t beat fear, do it scared,” and in 2024, I found the bravery to believe it. In the imminent uncertainty of 2025 (also the last year of my twenties,) I’m hoping for more of the same— more showing up in the face of anything, more heart wide open, more good anyway.

TOP THREES OF 2024

RECORDS (favorite track)

Manning Fireworks - MJ Lenderman (She’s Leaving You)
life til bones - Oso Oso (that’s what time does)
Big Ideas - Remi Wolf (Soup)

SONGS

Snake Plant (The Past is Still Alive) - Hurray for the Riff Raff
Crimes of the Heart - Waxahatchee
Pale Horse - Truman Sinclair

BOOKS

LoFi - Liz Riggs
The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue - V.E. Schwab
On Writing - Stephen King

An Afterword: usually when it comes to my favorite music of the year, I have to dig through a treasure trove of releases I held tight to. This year though, I found myself buoyed by old-ish favorites. I can mostly attribute this to reading Lo Fi and mentally reliving my Nashville glory days… but there’s also a piece of me that’s trying to slow time a bit, to squeeze out all the love and chaos that was the soundtrack to my 20s as the world (mine and ours) keeps changing. Here’s to the songs that’ve been there:

It’s Alright - October Tooth
This Time - Land of Talk
Rings - Pinegrove
DON’T TELL THE BOYS - Petey
Pt. 1 - Peach Tea
New York - St. Vincent
Guest in Your Life - Sinai Vessel
Winter Breaking - Saintseneca
Circles - Brother Moses
Love Like Before - Erin Rae
Keep Me in the Open - Gang of Youths

2023, a reflection.

December 31, 2023 by Lowndes Commander

it’s that time again— december’s here and marching on as its wont to do. and with its marching, comes the cyclical stirring in me to look back— at my camera roll, my playlists, my heart and disposition. and this year, my first instinct is to question, how are we here and now already? it still feels like it’s 2020 and we’re all on the precipice of something that won’t be snuffed out… i don’t do this often enough anymore; excavate and examine and exercise my fingers on a keyboard (or in a notebook, for that matter). but i love this time of year, with its gimmicky sparkles and best intentions. and i’ll keep joining the chorus of reflection as long as i’ll let me.

on the first day of 2023, i hung out with a litter of puppies, boosting my serotonin as high as it could fly. and a few days later, i found the most beautiful banded tulip (sans creature) i’ve ever seen, a string of good signs i was glad to hold onto in the midst of ‘more of the same.’ it was a new year, but i was still clocking in to the same jobs on the same days, still combing the beach for treasure, still…me.

to get out of a lingering bout of restlessness, i pressed ‘purchase’ on a resale ticket for a show at the Ryman and made the long february drive to sit in a pew and sing songs about the complicated nuances of returning home. i felt it in my bones, alone and alive. i had coffees, meals, and drinks with friends— the way it ought to be. and i’d like to think i drove home like new, doused in a snifter of amaro and new perspective.

as winter trudged on, i leaned into the magic of having something to look forward to, all the while trying to press into everyday moments as they whirred on by: midday ice-skating, a thoughtfully cooked valentines dinner with the best person i know, a road trip to a tiny show in north carolina to hug a friend and dance along.

by springtime, i’d feel full in the way i’m always chasing: small under the snowcapped mountains of montana, laughing ‘til we cried as a stetson flew off into the riverbank. soaked to the bone in a nosebleed seat singing along with taylor swift ‘til 2am. fresh in love on a long weekend at the starlight, the taste of Lewandowski’s rose cuvee still on my lips.

summer was sticky with southern heat, work’s busy season punctuated with beach days, jumping in the ocean just to cool off. we’d drink mai tais and sour beers and espresso tonics, play at the arcade with the tourists, get out of town when we could. just as the heat began to lift a bit, i found myself in new york again, the timing serendipitous— a walk to la cantine for tea and toast each morning, late night pizza and all-day cheerses, a few nights seeing friends play their songs, a little like old times. i developed my first roll of film in a long time and felt new again.

the rest of 2023 played out like a song that comes on at just the right time— las jaras on the boardwalk at sunset, too many baseball game hot dogs, a weekend in wilmington ft. walks for coffee and beer and some of the best meals i’ve ever had. making the rounds of nashville firsts, lasts, and favorites, squeezing every ounce out of each day, because what the hell else could be more true and right? there was halloween weekend in rhode island with some of the best, narragansetts on a boat at sunset and feather boas at the bar after dark. and then, there were christmas parties and dog cuddles and laughing under a blanket, looking up at the stars, thinking with all its stops and starts, mundanity and excitement, this life can be quite alright.

and like it was meant to be, before the year ended, i found myself singing those same songs i sang in that pew back in february, only this time i sat close, and i wasn’t alone. i let go and scream-sang along, teary, with a whole new year of life behind me. i’m 28 now, and by this point maybe i thought i’d have kept taking more photos and writing more books that might be seen and read by more people ( i still could!). but for now, what i’ve got is this small corner of the internet with my grainy photos and rambling end-of-year reflections i do to celebrate and remember it all. and for that, i choose to be grateful, open, and full of something like hope.

BEST OF 2023

RECORDS (favorite track)