I make time capsules. You should too.
When you realize that you’re living through a period you’d like to remember, make a playlist of it. Here are some of mine.
images by Roxane Bushofsky and collage by Jake Harvey.
Up until this August, I used exclusively Apple Music. If I were to tell you this, I would probably do so somewhat snootily. Why would I need an app with so much going on when I generally knew what music I liked and I had one (gargantuan) playlist that I could turn on any time? Plus, Spotify is ugly. That point I stand by. But what happened in August was something that has happened, and will happen again, many times in my life. It just showed itself in a different way this time.
I had wanted to memorialize my act of reflection—a moment of more-intense-than-average reflection. Typically, when I feel this way, I’ll journal, recount my reflectiveness to someone, or look back at photos from a certain time (which are memorializations of their own). But, for whatever reason—maybe laziness, maybe a stubborn, pretentious, fairly idiosyncratic sort of pride that I took in not making playlists (random, I know)—I never codified my reflections through collections of music.
I would do so subconsciously, maybe. I think that, if we think hard enough, we can all point to songs that are emblematic of a time, an event, a person. And when we think of this sort of song, when we hear it in our minds (or, even better, when we actually hear it), something floods back to us. Some of these special songs are too intense to even listen to. Too moving, for good or for bad. But they exist. Sometimes we may forget them for a while, but when we hear them, the memories attached to them are clear as day, and so are their statuses as THAT sort of song.
Well, I found myself, this August, in a state of extreme reflection. I also wanted better song recs. And Apple Music kind of sucks at that. So I downloaded Spotify to get better suggestions, and also because I had this idea that I wanted to start making some reflective, time-encapsulating playlists. Apple Music isn’t great for making playlists, in my opinion, either.
With that arguably overly-detailed but also sort of illuminating lead-up to my playlist-making origins out of the way, let me tell you about some of them. The first thing you may notice is that they are not uniform in length or time period. They are also absolutely inconsistent when it comes to genre, mood, or artist frequency. But, that’s sort of the whole thing. The first playlist of this collection, “The final days of August into September, 2025,” was born from the realization that, in this period, a lot of change and reflection was going on in my life and a lot of songs were being played on repeat a lot of times. So, while an outside viewer may not be able to create a narrative thread using the playlist, and I cannot tell you exactly why each song was so compelling to me at the time, I can hear any one of the songs on the list and tell you exactly when and where I was when it affected me most. They’re time capsules.
The final days of August into September, 2025:
This playlist was started on the Eurostar from Amsterdam to London. I had just finished an impromptu and absolutely hilarious and lovely little trip to Amsterdam with my dear friends Sofia and Max. Our night ended in the early hours of the morning, and I had a train to catch in the slightly-less-early hours of that same morning. I remember sitting down on the train, the sun just beginning to rise, and realizing that I was too antsy to try and sleep. I was on the way to see a friend in London who had graciously offered to let me stay in his home with his family who I had never met. I had been looking forward to the trip, but I felt sort of anxious. If I wasn’t going to sleep, I figured that I might as well listen to music. In my excitement for my next adventure and my revelling in the previous one I was, of course, reflective. Plus, I was on a train. For seven hours. How could I not reflect?
The playlist consists of songs that remind me broadly of the end of Summer ‘25, with The Smiths’ “How Soon is Now?” and Tyler Childers’ “Eatin’ Big Time” probably getting the most play time in that period. But one song that I remember striking me on that Eurostar specifically is Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart.” Looking out the window at the somewhat unexpectedly and totally delightful views of the Dutch, Belgian, and English countrysides, early alternative tracks narrated a sense of rebellious, somber possibility. I had just had one of the best trips and summers of my life. How was the series of trips going to end?
Barça winter ‘26: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1PgsWxgvpLPNM1k9gNDy5G?si=6GpO5I2HRUGMz-zvlrt_qQ
This one’s funky. When I left for my quarter abroad in Spain this winter, I thought I should make a playlist to memorialize the wondrous Spanish influences that would undoubtedly impress themselves on me. What you’ll find upon browsing this list is that there is very little Spanish music. To be fair, in my experience, Spain loves ‘70s and indie rock. Regardless, I think the list reflects the chaotic energy of that quarter very well—all the newness, the breaking and rebuilding of routine, the bustle, the lonesome moments.
A couple songs charm me most when I look back at this list; ones that I had a really deep connection with long before this winter, but that kept popping up in different places. “Yes Sir, I can Boogie” by Baccara was on in a wine bar in Madrid. A couple weeks later, I walked past a restaurant in Seville that was blasting it. I was with my sister both times. The Killers’ “Human” and Bon Entendeur’s “Fio Maravilha” found me and my best friend in Amsterdam. Both of those songs have been special to our friendship for a while.
“Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down” by Kris Kristofferson always made its way into the queue when I was waiting for my flight back to Barcelona from my weekend trips on Sundays. Ornella Vanoni’s “Ti Voglio” was on repeat when my friends from home came and visited. “BAILE INoLVIDABLE” because of February’s Super Bowl. Duh.
I could go on. This playlist is one of my most cherished gifts to myself, and my love for it will only grow as time brings me farther and farther from that winter. The starting note of each song on the list snaps me so bittersweetly into that time, the meaning of which had only just started to become clear. Beautiful how time can color memory. Ah.
spring break+q ‘26:
Finally, I’ll tell you a bit about what’s currently being memorialized. Unsurprisingly, the easiest songs to feel the significance of are the ones added longest ago. “Candy” by Paolo Nutini and the Waterboy’s “Fisherman’s Blues” bring me back to Dublin pubs on break. Sprinkled among Irish classics, these two lovely, aching tunes were huge singalong hits. “Wuthering Heights” by Kate Bush will always be associated with my sister on our family ski trip begging me to “play that one again” every time she heard it. “Con la Misma Piedra” had me in an absolute chokehold for the first few weeks of the quarter. God, I love Julio Iglesias.
The most fun part of these lists tends to be deciding when they’re finished and looking back at the whole creation. My 21st birthday is coming up as I write this. Something tells me a song or two from my festivities will sneak their way onto the list. We shall see.
Anyway. Thank you for following along. To you, these lists and their explanations will probably still appear quite random. But that’s kind of the lovely thing about these capsules— they are yours. They are your moments and your memories, and they might only make sense to you. Do your future self a massive favor and start making these little gifts. Life moves fast, and it’s so easy to forget beautiful things. When you remember that you’d like to remember, add to the playlist.
edited by Madison Esrey.
images by Roxanne Bushofsky.
collage by Jake Harvey.
