Unquiet
Things

Let’s say you and your person have a weekend ritual of spending the mornings slow and soft and easy, sipping coffee, and reading books and listening to records.

(Sometimes, that is. Other weekend mornings, you might be out in the full sun at 10 am, 85 degrees on A FEBRUARY DAY, spending three hours raking up the oak leaves that muck up your yard.) (And yeah! I know raking leaves is not great for all the little bugs and things that like that sort of ecosystem, and I wish I could leave the yard alone to do its thing! But oak leaves are leathery and full of tannins and decompose very slowly and smother the grass, and the HOA here will literally have you thrown in the dungeon if your grass gets all nasty!)

Anyway, we we were listening to records. It’s the early hours, so you don’t want anything too jaunty or jangly, anxious, or aggressive. I love me some Colin Meloy, for example, but I don’t want to hear his nasally voice singing about ghostly Victorian children and maritime vengeance at 9 am on a Sunday. And as much as I adore Florence Welch, I can’t stomach her caterwauling (gorgeous though it may be) that early in the day.

At a local library sale several years back, Ývan scored a treasure trove of old records for about 25¢ a piece; Lighthouse at Lagun and Two in a Gondola in particular get a lot of airtime here. We also love this Ghibli Symphonic Celebration album and the Only Lovers Left Alive soundtrack. Oh, and of course, the sonic stylings of Matt Berry!

What do you listen to on a slow, gentle Sunday morning when you’ve nothing to do and nowhere to be and you can luxuriate on the sofa for a few hours?