The Soundtrack of a Life: How Music Illuminates Every Chapter

What can you know of a person if you know their playlists? Quite a lot, I’d argue. We might tell our stories with words, but music—that’s where emotion hides, where life’s quiet undercurrents hum loudest. My life? It’s a series of musical vignettes, each note carrying more weight than I ever intended. Whether fumbling through first crushes, navigating the unpredictable seas of lasting relationships, or grappling with those bittersweet moments of solitude, my soundtrack has been the unseen narrator.

Here’s my attempt to share the eclectic tunes that define the drama, comedy, and sometimes downright absurdity of my own story.

The Overture: Early Days, and Even Earlier Crushes

Some kids grow up with lullabies and ABC songs. I grew up with sea shanties. Nantucket’s DNA flowed through my veins, and so did its music. My parents would host summer bonfires on the beach for inn guests, where someone inevitably strummed an acoustic guitar, belting out tunes like “The Wellerman.” It might’ve been kitschy, but to a 10-year-old with sand between his toes and stars overhead, it was pure magic.

The first track on this playlist? Sting’s “Fields of Gold.” Why? Because I fell in love—for the first time—at the ripe old age of 13 while listening to it play at a beach wedding my parents hosted. She was a guest’s daughter, visiting from New York City, and she wore a yellow sundress I can’t forget even if I try. We built sandcastles, meticulously avoided holding hands, and promised to write each other letters. (Spoiler alert: Neither of us did.)

Takeaway: If you’re lighting the spark of mutual admiration at a young age, soundtrack it with something a little moody and timeless. Just steer clear of “My Heart Will Go On.” That sets unfair expectations.

The Ballad of First Heartbreak: A Crash Course in Rhythm and Blues

Fast forward to college, where my first “serious” relationship fell apart spectacularly. My girlfriend—let's call her “B”—was fiery, brilliant, and way too cool for me. She introduced me to indie rock, introduced me to her friends, and then one day, introduced me to her other boyfriend.

I spent the better part of a semester wandering the narrow streets of Cambridge with Bon Iver's “For Emma, Forever Ago” in my ears, convinced no one else on earth understood heartbreak as I did. (Spoiler alert: Everyone does.)

Takeaway: If you're going through a breakup, don’t feel ashamed of your choice in sad songs. Play the dramatic stuff. Wallow in it. Just remember—it’s temporary. Also, maybe don’t build your playlists around an ex’s music suggestions. That’s just unsafe territory.

The Travelanthems: Edinburgh and A Tune for Adventure

Moving to Scotland for a year remains one of my life’s boldest decisions—a choice I credit partially to Fleetwood Mac’s “Go Your Own Way.” When every fiber of my being wanted to stay close to the familiar shores of home, I’d press play and imagine life at full volume. Suddenly, studying maritime history overseas didn’t feel so daunting.

Edinburgh greeted me with its cobblestone streets, its gray skies, and its welcoming music scene. I learned to love fiddle-driven folk songs, but Neutral Milk Hotel’s whimsical album In the Aeroplane Over the Sea became my solo-walk soundtrack. It may not scream Scottish Highlands, but there was something liberating in its offbeat, nostalgic rhythms.

Takeaway: Every leap of faith deserves a killer soundtrack. Pack a playlist as varied as your new surroundings—it’ll help you store memories in unexpected beats.

The Greatest Hits: Falling (and Falling Hard)

It’s impossible to talk about falling in love—the real kind this time—without mentioning Paul Simon’s Graceland. Look, you try meeting someone who shares your deep appreciation for obscure 19th-century whaling lore and doesn’t feel like they were chosen specifically for your star-crossed playlist.

We met back home on Nantucket shortly after I decided Boston wasn’t the forever home I’d imagined post-college. She loved Nina Simone. I loved belting out Simon & Garfunkel lyrics whenever given the slightest chance. Our combined playlist? A beautiful hodgepodge of deep cuts, silly karaoke staples, and—I’m just going to admit it—Taylor Swift’s pop hits. (“You Belong With Me” is now ironically, and unironically, ours).

Takeaway: Love isn’t always about finding someone who’s into the exact same music as you. It’s about finding someone whose rhythm complements yours—and who doesn’t judge that one embarrassing tune you secretly love.

The Interlude: Solo Acts and Finding Your Own Groove

Here’s the thing about relationships: they ebb and they flow. Life circumstances change. People change, too. One summer not too long ago, she took a long sabbatical to chase a professional dream far away, and I stayed rooted in Nantucket. We’d agreed to this together, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard.

That’s where The Decemberists entered stage left, their entire discography becoming my unofficial therapy session. Haunting melodies like “June Hymn” gave voice to a nostalgia tinged with hope, while “The Mariner’s Revenge Song” reminded me (dramatically and hilariously) that loneliness is universal, and other sailors have been through far worse.

Takeaway: Even in love, there’s room for solo acts. Make time for personal growth—sometimes, you find the most fulfilling harmony within solitude.

The Crescendo: Building a Life and a Legacy

Now here we are. My playlist today reflects the beautiful chaos of settling into a creative life here on the island—the creak of historic wood underfoot and the occasional roar of a storm off the Atlantic. Working through deadlines while a crackling fireplace soundtrack hums steadily in the background calls for something warm and evocative. For me, it’s Gregory Alan Isakov’s “San Luis.” Its lyrical simplicity mirrors why I even write in the first place: to capture fleeting human moments before they drift away, like a boat untethered from its moorings.

And, of course, shared songs with my love still sneak in. Last week, she caught me dancing in the kitchen to Maggie Rogers’ “Love You For A Long Time.” I’m uncoordinated, sure—but what’s life without a few joyful missteps?

Takeaway: Every chapter deserves its melody. If yours gets messy or chaotic, well… let it. Some of the best music is improvised.

Encore: Crafting Your Own Soundtrack

If we all carry soundtracks of our lives—consciously or not—then it only makes sense to curate them with intention. Here’s how:

  • Pay attention to the emotional cues: Sad songs can coax out feelings you didn’t realize you were suppressing. Upbeat tracks might inject joy when you least expect it.
  • Keep it personal: Your soundtrack is for you. Don’t worry about impressing someone else with its cleverness.
  • Let your playlist evolve: We’re all continually changing. Allow your music to grow with you.

Life isn’t always harmonious, and relationships don’t follow a fixed meter. But with the right soundtrack, even the disharmonious bits can feel meaningful. So press play on your story—skip the songs that don’t serve you and savor the ones that do.