Illustration by Regina Bautista

Like many of you, the relationship I’ve had with alcohol and its consumption has waxed and waned over the years that have transpired to convince me that I am, on most levels, a functioning adult. As I transitioned from the early, degenerative years of experimentation and toxic yolk brain hangovers to the ‘reformed’ dynamics that govern the drinking sessions I enjoy today with friends; I’ve realized the important role that music plays in determining whether or not indulging in this pastime and social lubricant will be a good night.

I’ve experienced, on several occasions, the influence of a good playlist complimenting the cold one or cocktail in front of me. Whether the music is blasting from a battery charged, trebly, tragic iPod speaker on some random curbside, or coming from the amps of a good band playing live, I’m a staunch believer in the fact that good music + alcohol is the formula for the equivocator Shakespeare was really talking about.

Not only has music helped determine the outcome of the night, – it more importantly- has saved me before from the Beast Within.  I’m referring to that scary fucker who creeps out when your moods switch poles from normal to ridiculous while drinking. That Beast that can convince you that you’re in a drinking bout with polar bears or having a heart to heart, tears-in-beer talk with Mikhail Gorbachev. Is that just me? It could be.

Here is a memory I’ll share to illustrate my point (feel free to substitute time/setting/characters should you find yourself relating):

I’m on a couch. I am drunk and my body hates me for it, taking revenge by dulling my motor skills down to that of an infant. Around me are the lights and sounds of yet another binger. I want to keep going, keep socializing, but my one functioning eyelid cannot keep open long enough for me to focus on anything. I feel the pangs of unmerited anger break through the incoherent haze.  Some asshole stands up and shuffles over to the iPod deck sitting on the coffee table next to me. He looks me up and down and smirks at some other asshole I can’t see to my left. Patting me gently on the leg, he whispers something I cannot understand and plugs the iPod back to life. The room gradually grows quite while the blessed opening crescendo riff of Don’t Stop Believing – Journey begins, and I, my brethren, am alive and animated again.

What is it with songs like these that can instantly cut through the daze of being drunk? Why do some songs have the capacity to save us from these momentary lapses in judgment that we all have experienced before with compromising consequences?

I’ll leave that question up to you, lord knows its one I’ve been trying to answer for a while now.  In the meantime, here are two mixes I’ve come up with filled with songs that have saved me before from polar bears and Russian prime ministers on various nights .  For the sake of uniformity I’ve condensed them into two lists.  The first list should be played when you’ve made the universal mistake of mixing alcohol with anger.  The second should be listened to if you are drunk and feeling blue like jazz.


Download: The Angry Bastard

Grounds for Divorce – Elbow

Red Flags and Long Nights – She Wants Revenge

Start Me Laughing – Dead Confederate

Souljacker – Eels

Go It Alone – Beck

Guns and Dogs – Portugal The Man

McFearless – Kings of Leon

Abel – the National

Till I Get My Way – the Black Keys

Music for Dogs – Trans Am

Download: The Sad Bastard

I’m not totally down with Rob’s Alien – Minus the Bear

Lex – Ratatat

Salvador Sanchez – Sun Kil Moon

The Funeral – Band of Horses

You Look Great When I’m High – The Brian Jonestown Massacre

First Love is Forever – The Hourly Radio

Red Dust – Iron and Wine

Forlorn – The Velvet Teen

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Joel Darwin has assumed the roles of sad bastard and angry bastard several times in this lifetime. He’d like to think that he’s beyond that now… but that can all change once we start piling on the drinks. He enjoys tormenting his girlfriend with his inability to construct quick metaphors and write ups.

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Regina Bautista recently abandoned a cozy corporate day job, churning out puns for an ad agency, to write and draw her life in comic book form.  Rough drafts of ruminations on her daily existence can be found here. In case it hasn’t become dead obvious at this point, she loves comics.

In the little free time she has, she can be found baking and macking on cupcakes (usually in that order). They also happen to be delicious cupcakes.