Fans were certainly not disappointed with the re-recorded album, as all of the songs are just as they remembered them from 2008. The new versions brought waves of 2000s nostalgia and pop-country vibes to Spotify and Apple Music listeners worldwide.
Over a year into the pandemic, and some of life’s old annoyances are becoming increasingly missed. Helen Newman’s stinky old gym is one gem that Kempff ’23 is missing after not having been in a real gym for months.
There is a psychological theory that half of our “experienced lives” are over by the time we are 19 years old. This is not to say that everyone will die at 38, but that a person who lives until the typical old age would sense that their life prior to 19 elapsed a similar duration to their life thereafter. This asymmetry is believed to be the outcome of our constantly-increasing familiarity with time itself. To a 10-year-old, a year is a monumental 10 percent of their life. For my grandparents, a year is often how long they go without seeing some of their grandchildren.
Let me preface this piece by saying that my recent columns have been very politically driven, and I’m ready for a break. Every news story I read makes me cringe, so today I’m going to attempt to deliver some lighter writing. Here’s to hoping I succeed. I’ve been going to the gym more often lately. It’s a nice break from my academic life and it gives me something to do in those awkward hours in the middle of the day.
As the months of March and April loom by, the hearts of students in India fill with dread, anxiety and terror. These months mark the peak of final exam season. For high school seniors, this season is the worst, as it not only induces immense stress but also huge bouts of nostalgia for the school years gone by. As a college freshman, it seems almost unbelievable that a year ago, I was in the same shoes as present-day high school seniors. To be quite honest, I feel like an entirely new person.
I’ve always had — and always will have — a special spot in my heart for Limp Bizkit. Please, allow me to explain myself.
I would venture to say I have a pretty broad musical palette. Though some would challenge my claims of good taste — Sun Senior Editor Sammy Perlmutter ’10 discovered six months ago that I like Gym Class Heroes, and he still won’t talk to me — I feel comfortable suggesting I have a fairly respectable collection of songs on my iPod. Genres like indie and hip-hop appear in spades, along with some more accessible examples of electronic and experimental brands of music. Whether you have a hankering for Dem Franchize Boys or Suburban Kids With Biblical Names, I can probably find a song that you would be at least decently satisfied with.
It has recently come to my attention that not everyone makes playlists according to what their middle school physical education teacher played while they did lunges on the blacktop during third period.
While en route to Montreal this weekend, my compatriots in Canadian tomfoolery appeared to be visibly shaken by the sheer volume of Phil Collins tracks on my “in-case-the-iTrip-fails-us” mixes. Phil Collins, Seal, Fine Young Cannibals and Toto rounded out the six-hour journey to Backwardsville, where they speak French instead of English and walk their cats instead of their dogs. (Seriously, I have pictures.)