JACKIE!

My favorite sound of 2021 is the sound of FM radio playing during a Metro Micro ride. Though I champion the fact that Los Angeles does have an active public transit system, the topographical challenge of a sprawl city does inhibit user friendliness. Enter Metro Micro. As the city re-opened this year, rideshare app prices surged for a multitude of reasons, making them a non-option for pedestrians in Los Angeles. Conveniently timed, the city launched Metro Micro in multiple service areas this summer–a flat rate rideshare option that utilizes the existing grid of bus stops. I’m fortunate to live in one of the larger service areas and use Metro Micro all the time–now even to our new studio in Silver Lake. The communal ride takes many shapes–shared silence as we move collectively, neighborly conversations, or often–the peaceful quiet of FM radio as you make your way to your location. One reason I love public transit is it removes me from my driving anxiety–I am free to close my eyes, read a book, scroll through TikTok, reply to texts, people watch, think about my day, truly anything goes; all with a little cleared headspace real estate. FM radio tickles the same need and removes one more choice I must make in a day full of decisions. While a curated playlist or bingeable podcast have their time and place, the mental freedom of letting the radio provide a sound track of familiar songs and nostalgic din as I make my way to wherever I am going, provides me a peace of mind to be even more present as a listener.

KT
my favorite sounds of 2021 were the sounds that brought my awareness back into nature. Coyotes howling at dusk. The neighborhood rooster, named Paul, crowing with startling reliability each morning around 6. Twelve hundred dolphins charging alongside a whale watching cruiser. The peppy morning grunts of a pig named Marge in Baja, and the assured and intimidating exhales of four horses blocking our car at the gate to an Air BnB.

** Honorary Team Mention **

Our own audio transcripts from all our amazing contributors!

GUIN

my favorite listening moments from the past year took place in idaho while out flyfishing on the big wood river with my brother and partner. The flowing river, leaves rustling and birds chirping brightly. The rolling crunch of the river rocks under the weight of the rubber waders. And obviously intermittent cracks of a beer can being opened. There’s nothing quite as meditative and peaceful as flyfishing, and i now completely understand how people become so utterly fanatical about it.

HAYLEY

My favorite sounds of this year were all probably from movie theaters. I had deeply missed the theatrical experience while cooped up inside during 2020, and although we are still not out of this pandemic it was an absolute joy to return to the movies. Seeing Dune in the Imax theater, with Hanz Zimmer’s bass shaking my eardrums, the intricate, atmospheric glass tapping in the Candyman reboot, and of course, the hooting and hollering of teenagers (and myself) during Fast and Furious 9. Second place however, is the new sink I got, which whines in a very spooky fashion any time I’m doing the dishes

KIRA

I had the opportunity to show all of my closest friends the Utah desert this summer. Our first day, we drove out to The Wedge (lovingly known as The Little Grand Canyon). The drive is long and flat and winding, almost endless, until suddenly you come upon a DROP in the horizon - and the canyon opens out in front of you in an instant. We all piled out of the car, and I went in the other direction to use the restroom (like I said, the drive is endless!). As I walked back up to the canyon edge, everyone was sitting on the ground and gazing into the distance - completely speechless. The wind was blowing but otherwise the world was still, and the sound of the silent appreciation of the majestic scene before all my friends was palpable, and so, so special.

SPURGE

I’ve never liked the beach. It’s my mom’s favorite place in this world. The calming repetition and invitation to completely relax has always been offputting compared to the fast-paced, urbane sensibility I’ve cultivated for myself through my twenties. Why lay in surrender when I could be traversing pavement to discover new restaurants, museums or interesting people?

2020. While back home, for my birthday, my mother surprised me with a day at a local beach. I responded with deep melancholy. I dislike the beach. I don’t like having decisions made for me on my birthday and here I am stuck experiencing both from a person I’d hoped knew this about me. This show of love felt like a pressurized diamond representing the year itself, stabbing me in time with the waves, a reminder of all the existential dread and lack of control I’d lived with through the pandemic so far.

2021. I was at the beach again for my birthday. This time in Mexico. This time by choice. Motivated by not wanting to be beholden to anyone on my “special day”, I escaped. Vaccinated. Seemingly liberated, I found myself stuck at the beach for ten days. Quickly bored. I took some surfing lessons, learning to look for the different types of waves, to float surrounded by the vastness, and to not be afraid of sharks. My relationship with the beach was changing a little.

This December. I was having a shit time at Art Basel in Miami. Movement across the city-wide festival was arduous and expensive. The wealth gap between attendees and residents was prominently displayed across South Beach and I had seen a dog get hit by a car & die on my second night there. What was supposed to be a spontaneous trip for end-of-the-year celebration was growing into the monster that is stress. After the dog dying thing, I rented a car and chose to go to the beach instead of participating in the festival. Here I met a figure that had been constant even though we met in various locations of the world this year. Here, my problems and my being felt insignificant, making space for being present. At the beach, I could finally listen and understood.