Because this project is hellbent on holding me to the flexibility I swore I’d extend to this blog’s execution, I realized somewhere in the C’s that there are a lot of songs I love but don’t necessarily have a lot more to say about them beyond enthusiastic squeals and gushing adoration, which might not be enough content for a post but definitely merits a place in a highlight compilation of sorts. (The alphabetical lopsidedness of belated inspiration definitely shows but, hey, at least I’m ready for the next four rounds of this.)

One More Second Chance is their victory lap, one last run through some honorable mentions that I won’t offend by over-writing about when some love isn’t meant to be expressed in paragraph-long run-on sentences; a quick round of applause and a few more on-repeat listens for some songs I adore is enough of a treat. Some have made me breathe an involuntary “Oooooh, I love this song!” for years; others’ shines have faded a bit but still elicit an authentic and deep-rooted fondness; many finally got their moment in the sun because of 12,700 Songs and now I’m smitten with them forever. They all deserve one last huzzah every 2,540 songs or so (give or take a few hundred because clean alphabetical divides still matter more to me than numerical ones do; the next one’s E-I).

Song No. 21: “A.M. Slow Golden Hit,” Hotel Lights: Ben Folds Five’s drummer has a band and it’s fucking awesome. This is such a chill, solid song, and it was one of the first tracks that justified this whole self-indulgent project by demanding that I finally give it the attention it deserves. It has been a treat to revisit every goddamn time.

Song No. 35: “Absence of God,” Rilo Kiley: I kind of can’t believe I’ve written so little about Rilo Kiley, especially since their songs always seemed to be there for objectively reflecting on and understanding the most emotionally fraught parts of life. “I’m not my body or how I choose to destroy it” remains a line I feel entirely too in-touch with, as does “We could be daytime drunks if we wanted” and “I say there’s trouble when everything is fine” and and and…. Let’s be honest: Every goddamn lyric here resonates a little too loudly, right on down to the names of men I’ve loved. If I were more honest with myself, I could’ve written about this song for miles.

Song No. 70: “Afraid of Everyone,” The National: I always forget how much I like The National—and they’re a band my husband actually likes, too. I catch maybe three lines every time I listen to this song and have no problem just digging it for how it sounds.

Song No. 99: “Ahead by a Century,” The Tragically Hip: I love how it begins, I love how it builds, I love how it sounds. And I love the line “No dress rehearsal, this is our life.” This one is always a much-needed reminder that there is so much more to The Tragically Hip than playing “Bobcaygeon” and “Courage (For Hugh McLennan)” on infinite repeat.

Song No. 113: “Air Bud,” Kurt Vile: I always expect Kurt Vile to sound more unabashedly country than any evidence has ever given me a reason to. But it has the unexpected upshot of making every encounter with his songs a pleasant surprise because he is so freaking good. This cool little moody tune is one I finally learned to love because of 12,700 Songs, and also one of the first times a song I remet through this project made me revisit its album littermates.

Song No. 152: “All Apologies and Smiles, Yours Truly, Ugly Valentine,” Carissa’s Wierd: There are so many songs whose first few bars I always mistake for other songs; this is one of them, but also is one of those songs I’m always happy to realize is the one actually popping in to say hi. This band is without a doubt the most emo of the emo scene but fuuuuuck are their songs absolutely gorgeous and probably a foundational reason why I’m a sucker for a good string accompaniment.

Song No. 195: “All of Your Days Will Be Blessed,” Ed Harcourt: I love Ed Harcourt but his first two albums are just so next-level special. This song is a standout in an album stuffed with great music, and it’s one that just sounds so contagiously happy.

Song No. 229: “All Thumbs,” Tracy Bonham: Sometimes I actually do know it’s not a good sign when you relate way too keenly to certain songs. This is a staggeringly beautiful, insightful piece of music from a criminally under-appreciated artist but it absolutely should never be a song that makes you reflect on your current relationship. I love Tracy Bonham, I love this song, but I do not love how it transports me to an ex’s bedroom and the first time I realized we were not at all right for each other.

Song No. 557: “As Lovers Go,” Dashboard Confessional: I had largely moved past Dashboard Confessional by the time A Mark, a Mission, a Brand, a Scar came out but you’d never guess by how well-represented it is in this project. I haven’t played this song as shamelessly and frequently as I’ve been belting out “Carve Your Heart Out Yourself” in my car when commuting’s a thing, but I still love it like hell.

Song No. 570: “Ascent of Stan,” Ben Folds: College Me, the me who loved Ben Folds most fiercely, couldn’t really appreciate this song beyond its twinkly piano intro. But Pissed-Off Late30something Leftist Me just fucking seethes over how sharply relevant it feels now (and I do love it for that and countless other reasons). My late Best Work Mom Ever was proof that I just want to be adopted by a smartly cynical aging hippie, and one of the things I admired most was how she never held back in criticizing how quickly her Boomer peers abandoned the revolution once they realized joining the institution meant Cadillacs and personal wealth. Had she passed in this project’s infancy, this would have absolutely been a story about her; instead, let’s just raise a glass to her in these early days of what I hope for everyone’s sake will be the year of the workers rattling their chains, realizing their numbers and sticking it to The Man.

Song No. 513: “Are You Serious,” Andrew Bird: Gaaaaaaawd, this song just sounds like the exact flavor of cool I’d aspire to if cool had ever been within my reach. There are lyrics? Whatever, just listen to the things those strings are doing.

Song No. 661: “Baba O’Reily,” The Who: I love this song so much that I know it deserves more than the post that only said “THIS SONG ISN’T ACTUALLY CALLED ‘TEENAGE WASTELAND,’ OKAY?” I was originally planning to give it.

Song No. 696: “Babylon,” David Gray: I openly, unabashedly love this song even though I kind of have a feeling that I should be embarrassed admitting to genuine affection for songs like this and Train’s “Drops of Jupiter.” Whatever, so-called guilty pleasures are fucking delightful treats and life’s too short to feel shame about harmless things that spark joy.

Song No. 726: “Bad Best Friend,” Nada Surf: It’s a bummer more people don’t know that Nada Surf has made scads and scads of music since “Popular” (a track from their 1996 debut!) and that they’ve just gotten better with age, to the point where they’re one of the most reliable, consistent creators of excellent albums. But the rawness of their early records is such an integral part of charting their progress and defining their sound, and it goes a long way in making this an even more effective, earnest anthem of overdue self-awareness.

Song No. 779: “Bang,” Braid: I absolutely adore how new Braid exists at the precise intersection of old Braid and Hey Mercedes. This song especially embodies that perfectly balanced melding of the two sounds and was such a welcome reminder to revisit some old favorites.

“Song No. 828: Be Gentle With Me,” The Boy Least Likely To: I’m not surprised this is one of Boy Least Likely To’s most-played songs but they’re really all this catchy and disarmingly charming. I feel entirely too seen by some of its lyrics (especially the growingly anxious “Wide awake, waiting like a target / Listening for things I cannot see”) but why dwell on that when there’s a whole album of introvert dance party to enjoy?

Song Nos. 879 & 880: “Begin,” Ben Lee: Awake is the New Sleep-era Ben Lee absolutely defines college once my still-BFF and I’d met. So much of the early foundation of our friendship was built on bonding in the wake of tragedy and, as the grief abated and we grew closer, it was such a relief to find out that we had improbably innumerable commonalities (like, to the point that she crashed at my place while she was back East for a couple days last week, packed a sweater that nether of us knew we both own and suddenly we’re wearing the same thing without intending to). Music is absolutely one of the things we immediately realized we shared, and our mutual fondness for Ben Lee had us flocking to Philly and NYC in equal measures to catch him (and his unfailingly awesome opening acts and/or tourmates) gently, optimistically rock out whenever we could. We carried flowers from one of his shows supporting this album back to our senior-year dorm room, where they remained weirdly preserved in empty Guinness bottles for the rest of the year. This meditative, hopeful song is packed with the kind of upbeat earnestness that makes Ben Lee’s music so irresistible, even to a bitchy indie snob who swore that ironic sarcasm was a valid personality trait. “When I hit a wall, I look up at the sky” is some mighty fine life advice, indeed.

Song No. 883: “Beginner’s Luck,” Eels: My introduction to Eels was the beautifully wounded “Electro-Shock Blues,” which tries so valiantly to find glimmers of good through the crushing blows of loss and depression and illness but can’t (or won’t) shake off the sadness that colors everything when life just keeps piling on the hurt. Seeing Mr. E evolve over 20+ years and produce some incredible, diverse music has been like watching a loved one claw their way back to the land of the living and find the things worth holding onto and holding up. Songs as bouncy and celebratory as this one are that much more of a treat when they’ve been preceded by ones like “Elizabeth on the Bathroom Floor” and “Going to Your Funeral” to underscore just how far one of my favorite musicians has come.

Song No. 1,226: “Bobcaygeon,” Tragically Hip: I had a rule that this wrap-up was only going to be for songs I hadn’t written about yet. But I saw the video for the international treasure that is “Bobcaygeon” after posting its story and still can’t get over how perfectly it captures all my favorite intangibles about the track, right on down to its winter feeling and how reluctantly uncoupled mornings have a way of making you question every life choice that takes you away from the only person who feels like home.

Song No. 1,299: “Boxing Champ,” Kaiser Chiefs: Good god, this song is a beautiful gutpunch, title notwithstanding.

Song No. 1,436: “Brothers on a Hotel Bed,” Death Cab for Cutie: How does a band I’ve loved in ebbs and flows since high school still have the capacity to surprise me? How do albums I’ve been listening to for years still have secrets to share? (It’s because you don’t know how good it feels to grow old with someone until every creaky knee and cracking back and sleep-stiff neck reminds you that forever only decays the body if you’re doing it right.)

Song No. 1,446: “Buckets of Rain,” Bob Dylan: Kudos to my husband for teaching me to appreciate Dylan. I think I needed to meet his music as an adult anyway, and I am always so glad I did. Songs like this unassumingly sweet little ballad are an absolute delight to get to know and exist in the same time as.

Song No. 1,456: “Built for Comfort,” Howlin’ Wolf: I just fucking love this song. Nobody wails a throaty lyric like Howlin’ Wolf does.

Song No. 1,525: “Calamity Song,” The Decemberists: I dunno man, this song lands differently as we’re beginning season three of COVID with another spike, and that’s on top of having been braced for disaster since well before the pandemic’s onset: Rediscovering this song the midst of that mindset does some weird things to the brain. Thankfully, though, years of loving Jukebox the Ghost has me pretty desensitized to songs depicting the end of the world. Plus, looking up the lyrics reminded me that its accompanying video is an extended reference to Infinite Jest via a game of Eschaton, and I love it for that alone. Leave it to The Decemberists to scratch my musical and literary itches with equal success.

Song Nos. 1,696, 1,697, 1,838 & 1,910: “Catch My Disease,” “Church of Everybody Else” and “Close I’ve Come,” Ben Lee: All three of these songs deserve love. You deserve a dose of Ben Lee’s music and faith in the world.

Song No. 1,729: “Center of Attention,” Guster: I adore early-years Guster and Lost and Gone Forever remains such an important album in my personal landscape. This is one of my favorites from an album that’s packed with songs I absolutely love and can’t help but sing along with.

Song No. 1,737: “Certain Cemetery,” Pretty Girls Make Graves: This is suuuuuuch a good song from a band I have never given enough love to. It clocks in a skosh more than five minutes and it does not relent for a single one of those seconds.

Song No. 1,788: “Chicago at Night,” Spoon: A strong contender for my absolute favorite Spoon song, of which there are many.

Song No. 1,858: “City Hall,” Idlewild: Bestie and I have kind of absorbed each other’s favorite bands if there wasn’t already an overlap, and Idlewild is one of hers that I’ve come to love. The first three songs of Post Electric Blues are some of my favorites of theirs, and this track in particular has something special about it that I just love.

Song No. 1,878: “Classically Trained,” Boat: I bought Dress Like Your Idols for “Landlocked” but am still apparently finding new reasons to love it.

Song No. 1,882: “Clavicle,” Alkaline Trio: Fuuuuuck did Younger Me absolutely eat up ALK3’s music. Loving something so much you want to savage it was definitely a feeling I could relate to, and their version of love songs always matched the intensity I craved.

Song No. 1,888: “Clear and True,” Rainer Maria: Oftentimes, Rainier Maria is at their best when they’re just doing a little ditty about love and loss and life. This one exemplifies all the reasons why I’ve love them since high school and can forgive them for marring a song I like with one of my least-favorite lyrics ever.

Song No. 1,892: “The Clearing,” Matthew Jay: It is absolutely a goddamn shame that the world lost Matthew Jay so young. He put so much great music into the world before he was snatched away at 24, and this bouncy, catchy tune is such a fucking fun example of the range he had.

Song No. 1,967: “Cold War,” Brandtson: I always forget about this band, and it’s always a blast to remember that I own two of their albums. Another win for second-chance songs!

Song No. 2,080: “Connections in Nashville,” The Long Winters: The aforelinked video is the only place online I can find this song, which is among the last new tracks one of my all-time favorite bands has released in more than a decade. If I can’t have the album it was intended for, I’m happy to have this wonderfully wistful little tune. Which I absolutely played the hell out of during my lone work trip to Music City.

Song No. 2,084: “Conscience Clean (I Went to Spain),” Pernice Brothers: I actually kind of can’t believe I didn’t write about one of my favorite Pernice Brothers songs. Before there was streaming music, there were Amazon recommendations. And those early algorithms were so insistent I would enjoy this band that I finally gave in and bought their sophomore album. Which led to purchasing five of their other albums soon after.

Song No. 2,153: “Courage (For Hugh MacLennan),” The Tragically Hip: My favorite Tragically Hip song. It fucking rocks and I cannot ever overplay it.

Song No. 2,226: “Cry Cry Cry,” Nicole Atkins: I already loved Nicole Atkins but hearing her live is hearing her music as it was meant to be played. This song fucking slaps no matter how you enjoy it.

Song No. 2,293: “Dancing Alone,” Ours: Holy fuckbars, I forgot how this band sounds like an elegantly tortured Radiohead in the best way possible, a dawning realization that comes with hearing more of these songs out of context. This was always my favorite of their songs and it is still so good.

Song No. 2,330: “Dashboard,” Modest Mouse: It was a real toss-up between writing about this and “Dark Center of the Universe” because I once had a passing concern about over-saturation and consecutive posts about the same band here. Longevity won that battle before I stopped caring, but this is still one of my favorite, most perfect commute-dance-party Modest Mouse songs.

Song No. 2,454: “Departure,” Mt. Desolation: This is my favorite Mt. Desolation song buuut I’d already heaved a seven-minute-read avalanche of verbal vomit into the digital ether about one of its album-mates and knew I’d try to top that even though there’s no reason to be like that. It is so freaking good and such a perfect introduction to its album, though.

Song No. 2,515: “The Difference,” The Wallflowers: This song simultaneously sounds like winter in early high school and my living room the last time a roomful of people I adore were late-’90s-singalong drunk. Either way, it’s a communal musical experience best shared with awesome folks who still know all the words, and deservedly so.

Song No. 2,571: “Disintegration,” Jimmy Eat World: At this point, Jimmy Eat World has popped up often enough and been such a delightful surprise every single time that I realized I never really stopped loving this band. I have no idea how so many of their songs still sound so good, but I do know that a seven-minute run time for this one isn’t long enough.

Song No. 2,555: “Dirty World,” The Traveling Wilburys: This is exactly what I expect from a collection of monstrous talent that deserves a better moniker than “super group.” There are a lot of earworms in the world, but one wrought by such dazzling musicians is a joy to have burrow directly into your braimeats and hunker down for days.

Song Nos. 2,584 & 2,585: “Distant Sun,” Crowded House/Neil Finn & Paul Kelly: I love an awful lot of Crowded House songs, but there’s just something about the warmth and soaring musicality of this one that really endears it to me.

Song No. 2,630: “Dodo,” Dave Matthews: Dave Matthews’ only solo album sounds just like winter and, like DMB itself, I can’t help but love it after decades of even judgier music snobs making me question my better judgement. This song, with its quiet, unassuming world-building that distills a global constant into an richly intimate contemplation, has always been one of my favorites.

Song No. 2,632: “Does That Make Sense,” The Jealous Sound: There are so many bands I love that have faded into the background over the years, and Jealous Sound (and the equally incredible Knapsack that preceded them) is regrettably one of them. This song, which I already loved on its own strength, was a really welcome reminder to spend some time with two bands I’ll never stop loving and don’t need to miss as much as I do.

Song No. 2,635: “Dog,” The Strumbellas: Regardless of whatever human-related metaphors these lyrics might actually be getting at, as a lifelong dog person who has loved a number of very good puppers with the same unrestrained full-heartedness they’ve always met me with, you can’t define a dog’s greatest talent any better than “I’ll pick you up / When this road gets too rough.”

Song No. 2,725: “Don’t Waste Time Doing Things You Hate,” And So I Watch You From Afar: The quality of the song is irrelevant when its title is advice this good. (But goddamn right it is a good song because ASIWYFA is incredible.)

Song No. 2,740: “The Double Life,” Rainer Maria: I freaking adore this song but it felt a little redundant writing about it so close to Rilo Kiley’s emotionally adjacent “Does He Love You.” These long-ago emotional lifeboats are still a little touched by the (often self-inflicted) heartache I was seeking solace from but are now predominantly reminders of how a song can make you feel understood and un-alone in ways nothing else can. (Also, I’ve had this song in my head every time I’ve woken up on the Lower East Side.)

Song No. 2,759: “Downtown Train,” Tom Waits: There’s a running joke about Tom Waits’ music being the stuff of drinking nights’ turns for the morose, which might be true but is super unfair to all of his songs that aren’t in the emotional vicinity of “Martha.” Being reminded that the man has one vast, incredible catalog that never stops being a marvel to behold is not unlike the feeling of always re-remembering that this song’s most famous version is neither its original nor its superior one.

Song No. 2,811: “Drive on to Me,” Elliott: Some songs hurt for a while, and they’re only going to stop once you decide it’s time. Sure, it’s tempting to preserve your hurt and give it entirely too much of yourself but you have to start healing eventually. What’s the point of letting your past rule your future? This song and this band are so very much entwined with someone who deserved better than who I was then and I think I’ll always feel some kind of guilty about that, but this music is too good to be overtaken by things I can’t undo. Some songs are meant to be sung at the top of your lungs, and personalizing them only makes singing out loud in hellbent, heartfelt reclamation matter more. I love this one so much, and I’m so glad it’s been able to stick around for as long as it has.

(This is 12,700 Song’s 200th post!)