Solstice Playlist
- 37 minutes ago
- 3 min read
Good stories conjure up images, but sometimes they’re even better with a soundtrack. Here’s a short playlist that pairs well with Solstice.
(Chapter: Proof of Concept)
Chic Chick
Poppy
Bubblegum synth-pop up top, a bass line that hits like a closed fist underneath. Poppy built her career flipping genres mid-song, and this one flips something else — the line that names who bows to whom, delivered flat, no apology attached. Amy Taggart wears the senator's-wife exterior in every room that requires it. Behind closed doors, she wears something else — and whoever's in that room learns fast which one is real. This is what plays underneath. Not a costume change. The real order of things, finally given a beat.
(Chapter: Katie-Lea)
Jeans
Lanie Gardner
The rasp in Gardner's voice never clears — texture over polish. In places she climbs a full scale to lift the song, no strain in it, just altitude. The lyric looks back without asking forgiveness. Katy-Lea lies flat on the bed to button them, breath held, hips angled just right. A minor tax, paid without complaint. She's climbed out of one life before. She'll do it again. Worth it, every time, for what happens when she stands back up and the room notices.
(Chapter: Ozy)
Coco
Wyn Starks
Ozy is a minor character in Solstice — vivid enough that you'll remember exactly who she is long after you've closed the book. Wyn Starks, an America's Got Talent semi-finalist, is what pulses through her veins. Fair warning: this one will up your pace on the trail or the treadmill.
(Chapter: Capture: ExtroSec)
Fallen
Sarah McLachlan
McLachlan's song isn't really about age. It's about the weight time leaves on a person — the burden it reveals rather than resolves. That's closer to the truth of what Allison wants when she catches herself wishing for younger. Not unlined skin. Not fewer years on the clock. She wants the weight gone. She wants to carry less of what time has proven about her.
(Chapter: ManWorld)
If you only knew
Alexander Stewart
On another random click night on Apple Music I came across “If you only knew” by Alexander Stewart. The light piano, open and choral background sweetness gives way to Stewart’s slightly rusted vocals, but then the lyrics plunge into very uncomfortable territory of self-anguish. Listening to it, I could feel the electrons grating through GW’s nervous system of a man at war with himself.
(Chapter: Tough Calls)
If This Day
The War and Treaty
Diane Warren is one of the great invisible architects of American pop — her songs made other people famous for decades. The War and Treaty bring a gospel weight to her melodic precision that no studio production could manufacture. GW, with Elaine at his side, is making calls that matter. This is exactly what that sounds and feels like.
(Chapter: Colorado Autumn)
Money Power Glory
Lana Del Rey
Del Rey never rushes a line. Her voice drags across the beat half a step behind, like she already knows the ending and isn't in a hurry to get there. The bass sits low and slow, built for a room where nobody has to raise their voice to be heard. This is Gaby learning the walk. Not the Varella logo, not the boardroom — the walk. Shoulders back. Eyes level. The door opens before she reaches for it, because someone already clocked who was coming.