This album is like a surf trip with the boys. You hit the beach and catch a couple of good waves, but it flattens out pretty quick. Over the next couple of days you drive to a couple more spots, but you never really see any good waves. After a while you start getting frustrated at the lack of success, but you keep drinking every night because it’s what you are meant to do on a surf trip. And also one of your friends has a sheet of metal which he won’t stop flapping for some reason.

This album is like being a 90s kid who is madly in love with the popular girl at school. She is dating the captain of the football team and doesn’t know who you are, so you join the drama club as a means to express your emotions in a safe place.

This album takes you to the mid 90s, where a man nearing his 30th birthday has been through some heartbreak, and carries the emotional scars to prove it. He puts on a happy face to the outside world, while repressing his own sadness. Outwardly, he is functional; he goes to work, spends time with friends, and makes upbeat conversation. But at the end of the day, the man ends up sitting alone at home, drinking straight whiskey while replaying past choices, regrets, and missed chances over and over in his head.

This album is like going to a travelling carnival with a girl you secretly like but haven’t told yet. The park has real carnie vibes, and the rides look pretty sketchy. You both enjoy yourself, and end things going into the mirror maze together. You have a really fun time, then agree to get a hot dog and some candy floss to share before you’ll go home. Half way through the candy floss, you’re just about to ask this girl if she’d like to go on a date with you, but before you can she starts talking first. “It’s been so great just hanging out with a friend. I’ve really needed this, thanks buddy!” Buddy?! And to think you were gonna suggest having a go at the ring toss before leaving, so that you could try and win a teddy bear to give to her.

This album gives soulful vibes of a soldier in a far off land, sitting in a dimly lit dive bar at 1am drowning himself in rye while thinking of ladies back home. Thoughts of his current girl and memories of former flames circle in his thoughts, while in the back of his mind he knows he’ll be on the front lines mere hours from now.

Like a sports car being cold-started on a frosty morning - this album hints at something great, but instead splutters its way along, struggling to find the right rhythm

This album starts out like a freshly brewed cup of fair trade Colombian brew coffee on a warm Sunday morning. It uplifts you to the point that when you realise you need to vacuum your house, you’ve got a wholesome energy so you don’t even mind vacuuming, in fact you dance and smile as you do it because everything feels right in the world. As the day winds down into a calming sunset, you at peace because you know you couldn’t have asked for a better Sunday.

This is like setting out for a long distance ride on your Harley Davidson. You’re excited at first but then you realise it’s a long weekend and you spend most of the time stuck in traffic. Also there is a bolt loose under your seat so you have to put up with jarring vibrations the whole way.

This album gives the vibe of a loner who committed an anti-social crime in his early twenties. After years incarcerated in solitary confinement, he has been released and is scrambling to get 25 years worth of thoughts down on paper. Levels out a bit later on in the album, but it is a bit shambolic for my liking.

This album is like the time you and your two best friends were all on family skiing trips to Wanaka at the same time. Your parents are all out to dinner together, and have left you at the motel. Your older sister gets you a box of beers to share and you are experiencing what it is like to let loose for the first time. A girl from a couple of rooms down the hall joins you, and after telling you how she’s into Radiohead, you end up hooking up and doing hand stuff for the first time while Master of Puppets plays in the background, etching this song into your memory forever. This is an awakening. These halcyon days are a turning point in your life, for all the right reasons

This album is like if you have been staying up too late at night during the week, so you are exhausted when the weekend rolls around. It is a nice Saturday afternoon, the sun is streaming through your french doors, and into your living room. You let the warmth on your face ease you into a lovely peaceful nap on your couch. Then in the middle of your slumber, your three year old son comes and punches you in the dick and starts crying. You manage doze off again, but twenty minutes later he gets into the pots and pans and makes a cacophony of noise. At this stage you are just too scared to go back to sleep.

This album is like drinking two glasses of red wine and then getting into your swimming pool on a still starry night. You lie on your back, and make no movements while looking up at the night sky, marvelling at the universe. Your garden is light up by the moonlight and the quiet warmth of the pool lighting envelops you as you drift slowly around the pool. You don’t want this moment to end.

This album is like a visit to an overseas whiskey bar where English isn’t the first language. The bar is catered to foreigners, including a band that performs in English. The bar is on a main road and the lighting is too bright in an effort to lure in passers by.

This album is like when your mum took you clothes shopping and let you choose your own shoes for the first time. You immediately wanted big bright Osiris skate shoes which was a huge step away from the old sneakers that mum used to get you. But she doesn't even understand, this is your new personality and you are proud to express yourself

This album gives the vibes of someone at a cocktail party, surrounded by dignitaries and socialites. He drums up a conversation with a railroad tycoon who asks what this young man has 'in the works'. After fudging his way through conversation using terms like 'amortization', 'EBITDA' and 'capital gains', he heads to the bar and orders a Manhattan cocktail. He politely sips his drink in solitude , internally pondering where Vermouth actually gets its unique flavour from, while surveying the room. He can't shake the feeling that at this particular point in time, he has made it. The sun sets behind the mountain range across the lake from the elevated condo which hosts the party. The man goes outside for a menthol cigarette and looks up at the sky, just in time to see a glimmer of a far off shooting star. Could it get better than this? Unlikely.

This album is like waking up on a warm Spring morning and feeling motivated to go out for a run. The mood that you’re in is sparking a new beginning towards better health and a better mindset, while also making you wanting to punch out the nearest government official.

This album is like a surf trip with the boys. You hit the beach and catch a couple of good waves, but it flattens out pretty quick. Over the next couple of days you drive to a couple more spots, but you never really see any good waves. After a while you start getting frustrated at the lack of success, but you keep drinking every night because it’s what you are meant to do on a surf trip. And also one of your friends has a sheet of metal which he won’t stop flapping for some reason.

This album gives the vibes of being an undercover detective chasing a no-good hispanic drug dealer through El Barrio. He runs into a nearby music club and you follow him, however you lose him as soon as you enter, as you are distracted by the bright colours, the loud noises, and the attractive ladies with raven-black hair and bright red lipstick. You can't help think that they are associates of your assailant, as they are working hard to keep you on the dance floor. But you can't drag yourself away, because you are lost in the music.

This album is like when you have managed to talk a girl who is out of your league into going out for a drink with you. You don’t have your own car yet, so you have to borrow your mum’s. Needing to make up for this bad start, you know you have to take this girl somewhere fashionable and cool, but it still has to be a safe pick - not too weird so as to make a potentially polarising statement about your personality

This is like having after works drinks in your office in the late 60s. Your straight-laced boss who is completely out of touch with the world asks what music is cool these days. Excitedly, you hope for him to put the Doors, the Rolling Stones or maybe even some Hendrix on, but that slow drawl of Monday, Monday reminds you that you are drinking in an office with acquaintances, not partying in the club with friends. Everyone makes polite conversation, and there is a hint of the party lifting as California Dreamin comes on. But that doesn’t last long. You’re not having a terrible time, but you are painfully aware that there are far more enjoyable parties going on down the road.

This album gives vibes of hearing a couple of mainstream hits and thinking 'this band could become a guilty pleasure'. So you illegally download the album and listen to it through headphones. The album starts strong as you bop through the singles that you know and love, but then you get through the singles and hear the rest of the album, which you don't enjoy. You delete the album from your iPod that night, and listen to some Black Sabbath instead.

This album is like when you’re five years old and your parents are having a party at home. Things start great because there is music playing, you’re allowed one soft drink, and several people are here and they seem excited to talk to you about your toy car collection. The night goes downhill quickly though, as your parents send you to bed early on in the party. You lie in bed and can hear the general murmur of a party, and it stops you from drifting off to a more enjoyable sleep.

This album is like the moment you sit out on your veranda after a big night out. As a devilish cocktail of beer, rum, negroni, a half eaten kebab and only-God-knows-what-else still courses through your veins, you take a moment to reflect on the evening. Your heart is still pumping at high octane from the activities of the evening, so you take a moment to sit under the night sky and contemplate the night that just played out. While relaxing and watching the clouds drift across the front of a full moon, flashes of the evening streak through your mind as you feel your body calming. “One more negroni” you think to yourself. Not needing more alcohol, you head to your kitchen and slap together a quickly made cocktail, before returning to the veranda. You don’t need the drink, but you have had such an amazing night and this calming time under the night sky is so peaceful, that you simply don’t know why you’d consider going to bed.

This album is like the third or fourth day of a massive bender. At this stage there is more alcohol in your veins than blood, and deep down you’re not too sure how you’re still functioning. Yet still you march forward. Sitting in a grimy lounge, surrounded by grimy accomplices, you power through the next box of beers slowly yet purposefully. There is a strong aroma of cigarettes from last night, and a matching taste at the back of your throat. There are less people in the room today than there were yesterday, but you know the missing ones will make their way back at some stage today. They can’t back out now. The couch you sit on is somehow crusty and damp at the same time. Occasionally you gat a euphoric rush of blood to the head, causing you to jump up and challenge the room to finish their drinks. You’re not sure if it is actually you doing that though, or if your soul has shifted to a new dimension. R.I.P. Ozzy

This album is like remembering the time you drove to work last week, to a job that you feel indifferent about. You woke on a cold morning and didn’t really want to get out of your cozy bed. Still half asleep, you knock back a black coffee to jolt yourself awake before brushing your teeth. Still bleary-eyed and drowsy, you set off. Nothing really unique or memorable happened on the drive, but you did get to work.

This album captures the vibe of you and your family having one last drink after your beloved grandfather’s funeral. After the funeral, friends and family had gathered at your uncle’s house and regaled each other with fond memories of a great man while having a few drinks. Gradually, guests depart. Before you know it, only the immediate family are left, sitting around a fireplace which houses a withering fire. While you all silently ponder whether or not to throw another log on, a quiet voice from the corner asks the room if anyone remembers the one time Grandpa raised his voice in anger - when one of his granddaughters slammed his grandson’s hand in a car door. Everyone smiles fondly as they finish their drinks. Realising that leaving the room means it is time to force themselves to move on with life, they agree to one last whiskey on the rocks.

This album is like the time you illegally downloaded a movie to watch with a girl you’ve just started dating. However when you start the movie you find it has been recorded on a phone camera in a cinema. In Uzbekistan. And someone in the row behind is watching another movie on their phone.

This album is like you’ve just ended a toxic relationship with a girl who was a bad influence, dragging you into a damaging lifestyle of excess. You’ve woken up feeling like a new man, you’re here to live clean, and you’re maintaining a positive outlook on the world. You’ll never forget where you’ve come from, but you’re more focussed on where you are going.

This album is like putting on your most weathered op-shop skinny jeans, a tight-fitting threadbare white t-shirt and your most rustic woollen sweater vest to go out to a log cabin in the forest to get away from the corporate drones for a weekend. The only problem is your fixed-gear bicycle isn’t suitable for the gravel road, so you have to hitchhike. Nobody wants to pick you up cos you have the look of a person who uses “natural” deodorant, so you are just standing around waiting on the side of the road on a hot afternoon for about 6 hours.

This album is like going on your first New Year’s trip with friends instead of family. Your sister doesn’t need her car for the holiday so she has been good enough to lend it to you. Now you and three friends are hurtling towards the Mount, Whangamata, Whitianga or wherever the hell you want. You’re flying down state highway 1 at 115km/h in a beat up old Honda civic, hurtling towards five days of surfing, drinking, experimenting with drugs and trying to chase girls for an evening of fun followed by absolutely no attempt to keep in contact afterwards. You’re not sure what you’re most excited about, as daydreams of all the aforementioned vices bounce around your head. No more low key days playing backyard cricket with the 13 year old neighbour at your family bach, it’s time to get wasted on Tui and run the beach as if it is your own debaucherous playground.

This album was like walking back to your car with your wife after eating dinner at a restaurant. Your car is in a parking building and you're not 100% which level you parked on. After about 10 minutes, you find your car, only to realise your wife has been talking to you non-stop along the way. You haven't really been listening to her conversation.

This album is like the first half of your birthday party when it’s mainly family members there. You’re having fun, but you’re keeping it in 3rd gear because your grandparents have come to celebrate and they are dressed impeccably. Not wanting to tarnish your name in front of your uncle or cousins, you only have three or four well-paced beers. You’re still keeping a good amount of energy, but you are also keeping a degree of decorum before your friends show up later and you really let loose.

This album is like the second half of your birthday party. You’ve been behaving up until now because your family were at the party and you have been nervous about overdoing it and making a scene, while also hoping that your friends would keep in bounds too. But now you’ve just said goodbye to your grandparents as your uncle has taken them home. You return inside, light up a cigarette and crack open a rum RTD cos it’s time for this party to kick it up a notch

This album is like coming home from your tour of duty as the war has ended. Earlier, everyone was singing and dancing in the streets, and now your and your wife have retired to a nearby quiet bar as the festivities have wound down. After enjoying a few rum cocktails as the other patrons leave, you find yourselves to be the last people in the bar. You slow dance on the dimly lit dance floor, all of a sudden oblivious to the world around you.

This album is like being a downtrodden young man, living in a grimy part of town. Your girlfriend is cheating on you and you hate your job. Even though you have minimal expendable income, the weather is nice outside so you’re gonna go for a walk. You’ll spend your last twenty dollars on a couple of bottles of cheap cider, and sit in the park finding beauty in this day, regardless of what else is going on.

This album is like walking into a church in a small town in middle America. The town has a small population, but come Sunday morning, everyone is here. The floorboards are dusty, and the pews creak when you sit down. The priest cuts the figure of a tired and beaten down man, weathered by life itself and all of its experiences. However when he speaks, you feel as if he is speaking directly to you, and everybody else in the congregation fades into oblivion. The charismatic priest gives a sermon that speaks of love, loss and menace. At the end of it, you walk away not sure if you have been blessed or hexed, but you have definitely been enthralled.

This album is like the rich girl at school, who has come back from summer holidays having developed a new edgy personality. She’s confidently getting in your face, challenging you about the wrongs of the world. She raises some pretty valid points, but at the same time her dad dropped her off in a Mercedes Benz before heading to his law firm where he is a named partner.

This album is like being a 90s kid who is madly in love with the popular girl at school. She is dating the captain of the football team and doesn’t know who you are, so you join the drama club as a means to express your emotions in a safe place.

This album is like sitting in your lounge with a couple of friends, having a deep conversation while drinking a rich bodied merlot and eating fine camembert cheese. It is a quiet night and it doesn't feel right to turn on the main light in the lounge, so instead you light a couple of candles and let their flickering glow, coupled with the moonlight coming in through the windows, provide the lighting.

This album is like skipping school with a couple of friends and roaming the streets doing whatever you want. Others are looking at you, wondering why you’re not at school. You’re walking with youthful confidence, displaying a rebellious vibe that scares people into leaving you be.

This album is like waking up from an anaesthetic after having a kidney removed. Your mind is cloudy and your mouth is dry. There’s no sign of a nurse and none of your family are by your side. In fact, you’re alone in this plain white room. You push the call button, desperate for a glass of water. Nobody comes. You begin to wonder if this is a nightmare.

This album is like the night you lost your virginity. You’ve gone in to the club with a clear and definite focus, you’re wearing your best clothes, using all your smoothest chat, and just throwing it all out there on the dance floor. And it works. This is an explosion of energy and emotion.

This album takes you to the mid 90s, where a man nearing his 30th birthday has been through some heartbreak, and carries the emotional scars to prove it. He puts on a happy face to the outside world, while repressing his own sadness. Outwardly, he is functional; he goes to work, spends time with friends, and makes upbeat conversation. But at the end of the day, the man ends up sitting alone at home, drinking straight whiskey while replaying past choices, regrets, and missed chances over and over in his head.

This album is like a man in his mid-twenties slowly coming to terms with the fact that life doesn’t always work out how the fairytales suggest it should. He’s an excited young go-getter, working in what he thought was a career defining job. However he has been in this role since he left uni at 22, and his career hasn’t really progressed as quickly as he envisioned. He’s been in and out of relationships, not really finding the right connection with anyone. He’s still filled with hope for life, however there is a thought in the back of his mind that maybe the challenges and difficulties of life are a lot larger than he was told during his younger years. He doesn’t want to give up on his enthusiasm, but he’s beginning to.

This album is like living a quiet, relaxed life in an idyllic suburban environment. Calmly going about your day-to-day activities, you are feeling an overwhelming sense of inner peace. Then the next day you pick up the newspaper and read about how a bunch of girls were psychologically tortured to the point of suicide and you feel guilty for feeling so relaxed.

This album is like being a 19 year old and going out for a big night on the town. You’re gonna get leery eyed early in the night and hit the Main Street at about 10. Not to go into the pubs though, cos the pubs are dead at 10. You’ll first pass the time by pushing some innocent bystanders, and the eating violence upon anyone who stands up to you. Later on you’ll go to a grungy basement bar playing upbeat music for you to space out on while you’re riding the highs of some random pills that you just took in a dirty toilet stall. Then off for a quick fight outside the kebab store before heading home to sleep on the couch.

This is like a guy in his 40s skateboarding from his office to the bus station. He’s obviously talented because he’s doing the odd grind and he can nose manual, but at the same time he just comes across as desperate to display his talent to an audience that have moved on from being impressed by kickflips. He frantically tries to show every trick he knows to the silent onlookers before the bus arrives, but it is more of a distraction than being anything impressive.

This album is like the start of a roller coaster, when your cart is getting hauled to the highest point, leading to the drop. You’re excited to get to the top and swiftly plummet into the actual ride, but this part is taking ages. Initially you’re filled with excitement, but as a couple of others on the ride with you start to groan impatiently, the thought does cross your mind that this is taking quite a long time.

This albums is like explaining string theory to somebody who doesn’t understand it. You’re giving fantastic examples to help explain the thinking behind the theory, and all of its subsequent implications, but the person you are talking to isn’t really keeping up.

This is like having your own unique personality but then going to school and finding out the things you like aren’t cool. So you stop collecting Warhammer 40k and start doing what the cool kids are doing, in order to fit in. You manage to keep up appearances and fit in with the popular crowd, but your heart isn’t really in it.

This album is like enjoying a loving, privileged upbringing. You decide that you want to be edgy, so you start lashing out at your parents, even though they are supportive of everything you do. You have literally nothing to complain about in life, but you complain anyway as if you have it tougher that everyone else. Nobody listens to your complaints, and your parents hate you.

This is like liking a girl who you think is way out of your league. You’re not sure how or why, but you blurt out that you’d like to take her out for a drink. To your surprise, she happily agrees. You go out and hit it off, agreeing to a second date. After a couple of dates, you spend the night at her house. You leave her apartment on a sunny Sunday morning, walking down a busy street feeling like you are floating. Your mum calls and you tell her you think you’ve found the one.

This album is like going out to a quiet cafe in London on a Sunday morning after having a massive Saturday night. You’re in that terrifying phase where you know you have some sins to wash away but you don’t yet know what. Your mind is still pretty scrambled and you need a calming environment to bring you back to earth.

This album is like getting ready to go to the roller rink with your friends. You’ve just emptied the better part of a can of hair spray into your hair, and you’re rocking your nicest pastel suit. The roof is down on your Volkswagen cabriolet, and you’re driving along the waterfront as the sun drops behind the horizon. Everyone knows it’s been about a month since you broke up with your last girlfriend, and while you’re still hurting from it, you think you’re ready to try and hook up with someone new.

This album is like enjoying a beer at the beach with friends while watching the sunset. Then your friend’s new fedora-wearing boyfriend sits down and is overly friendly. After some generic conversation during which he offers no insight whatsoever into any character traits, he pulls out a guitar. Everyone is awkwardly forced to end their conversations to hear this knob play. He proceeds to perform a medley of generic songs. The ambience of the moment is ruined. You don’t talk to that friend anymore.

This album is like falling in love with your babysitter. Needing money to help with uni costs, she’s taken a job as your babysitter while your parents go out to a fancy dinner party. She arrives in a beat up grey sedan, and you can hear the music blaring out of the speakers from a mile away. She’s wearing ripped baggy jeans, a white singlet with an unbuttoned flannel shirt over the top, and an unzipped hoodie. She’s friendly to your parents as they leave, and they tell her she can help herself to anything in the fridge. As mum and dad leave, she cracks a can of one of your father’s beers. Immediately she speaks to you as if you are an equal, even though she has experienced so much more than you have, and there is a significant age gap. She is a feminist, but a genuine one. Instead of simply rattling the sabre about how men are the downfall of society, she simply knows she is fucking awesome and expects to be treated as such. After explaining to you what uni is like, she tells you to get to bed. Never wanting this night to end, you kick up a fuss. She’s not here to argue, but she lets you have a sip of her third beer before sending you to get ready for bed.

This album gives the vibe of a gentleman in the twilight of his life looking at a photo album and remembering the love of his life - his now-deceased beloved wife. While he sips a brandy, he thinks of their first date at a night club, their romantic holidays driving to beach towns, and sitting on the porch of their moderate home while watching their children play. Picturing himself cuddled up on the outdoor two-seater with a blanket over their laps, he is filled with an inner warmth. He puts the album down, and smiles to himself, thinking back to his lively youth.

This album gives the vibe of a young professional having an out of body experience, watching himself go through the day to day routine of life. Waking up, riding the bus to work on on overcast day, listening to music on his discman, sitting in his office cubicle for 8 hours surrounded by other faceless men in grey suits. Everyone has generic job titles like "accounts", "marketing" and "sales", but nobody really knows what each other does for a job. In fact, the man isn't really sure what he himself does. After staring at a computer screen for another monotonous eight hours, he heads home to his 1.5 bedroom apartment, to sit on his catalogue-purchased furniture setting, and watch tv on his expensive flat screen TV. After a microwave dinner and a glass of moderately priced pinot noir, he goes to bed in his queen sized bed with new Egyptian cotton sheets. Left alone with his own thoughts, he is filled with an overwhelming sense that he is simply a small cog in a huge uncaring machine.

This gives the vibe of a low level group of criminals in east London. Using IT knowledge, they hack the security systems of clothing shops and steal fashionable clothes. Some of the clothes they resell, some of the clothes they steal for themselves. They are always the best dressed in the dance clubs on high street.

This album is like a young pastor that has moved to a town in a southern state. He’s befriending the locals through music, letting them play the guitar while he sings the lyrics. Times are tough in this town, and everybody is living hand to mouth. His music acts as a acknowledgement of the difficulties faced by the community, while also serving as a message of hope for those wishing for things to improve. He also sneaks a bit of religious sermon in there

This is like a guy in his early 40s taking his wife and two young children on a holiday to Fiji. There is a group of 20-somethings staying at the same resort, and they are getting stuck into the rum most days. The man’s children long to join in on the fun, but the wife doesn’t let them as they are still too young. The man smiles to himself at the whole situation. Instead of being angry at the rowdy group, he fondly remembers the times where he was getting drunk with his friends. He also smiles knowing the fun times that his children will experience in a few years time. As well as all of that, he is filled with a sense of accomplishment, knowing he has been through those times and come out the other side. He looks at his wife and his children, and takes a moment to appreciate everything that he has.

This is like going to a high-end European car dealership. You show up at dusk, and as the sun sets, the dealer mixes you a Manhattan and offers you a cigar. You don’t smoke, but you appreciate the cocktail. You sit in luxurious armchairs in his office, discussing what you’re looking for in a car. As you finish your drinks, he takes you to look at an impeccable sedan, fitted out with mahogany dash and rich Corinthian leather seats. You turn the engine on and a shiver crawls up your spine as the engine hums. The V8 purrs a quiet yet stern roar, telling you that it can keep calm and maintain decorum, but can also roar if needed. You don’t even need to take it for a test drive. This is the one.

This is like befriending a person “in the know” of underground dance halls and nightclubs that thrive in the time of prohibition. After going down a dark alley, and talking your way past the quiet giant that guards the door, you head into a nondescript hall, only to be met with an explosion of light, colour, sound and revelry. It is as if this small community have been keeping themselves under control for the working week, and are finally in a situation where they can celebrate all the joys of life. You normally don’t like dancing, but here you feel safe gyrating your hips and even flailing your shoulders.

This album is like a new girl starting at your school. She is dressed in black jeans and a black hoodie, with a denim vest over the top. She has hi-top Doc Martens on, and safety pins in her vest. Some of them are there to attach anti-war patches onto the back of her jacket. She doesn't seem to have washed her hair in a while, and she definitely isn't wearing makeup. You are not sure why, but you are infatuated with her. You talk to her, and she makes it instantly clear that she isn't interested in your sweet-talking and bullshit. After a while, you manage to convince her that you also don't care about the cool kids at school, and that you understand the bigger picture of life. You hang out more and more, but she never lets you make a move or anything. This goes on for a while until you start to think, maybe this girl is actually pretty annoying? Like, yea she is hot and you appreciate her anti-establishment confidence. But at the same time she does carry on a lot about how the underlying theme of Star Wars is the religious indoctrination of Luke Skywalker and you just want to tell her to give it a rest.

This album is like visiting your grandparents on a warm Sunday afternoon. You sit in the lounge at their house, surrounded by the comfortable but admittedly stuffy aroma of old books and photo albums. After updating them about your life, your grandmother heads into the vege garden to do some pottering. You decide to stick around for a while to talk to your grandfather. You pour him another cup of tea, and gradually the conversation flows from last night's sporting fixtures into him recollecting stories from his earlier days. Occasionally he weaves a bit of life advice into his stories. Sadly you'll only realise this a couple of days later, by which time the lesson will be lost.

This album is like that magical late-adolescence period of your life when you are still young enough to enjoy eating burger rings and playing computer games with your friends, but you are also old and mature enough to go out drinking and chasing girls. It is Friday afternoon., school has just finished, and you and a couple of your friends are walking home to your house. Your friends are coming over to play some Tony Hawk Pro Skater 2 while eating Eagle Boys pizza. Later on, a guy at your school is having a party and he has invited your whole year group to come along. On the walk home, instead of just passing by the reserve with a playground in the corner, you decide to take your shoes of and run around for a while. The weekend has just started and you have nothing but free time. One of your mates has a tennis ball which you throw around for a while. Then you all get on the playground merry-go-round and see what kind of speed you can get it up to. You're having the time of your life, and then a couple of girls who you go to school with walk past. At first, you're a bit embarrassed cos you are playing on a childrens playground, but they just smile and say they hope to see you at the party later on. You are all too excited to think. You decide to head home, and play some THPS. During one of your friends turns, he nails a Christ Air off the top of the school and everyone loses their mind. Quietly you think to yourself "Rune Glifberg doesn't even do Christ Airs in real life", but everything is just so good, that you don't even bother to raise your point. After a good session of playstation, pizza and fizzy drink, your dad takes you to the party. You stop to get beers along the way, and even though Mum said he was only gonna get you a 12 box to share, he gets you a 24 box and tells you to keep quiet about it. You get to the party and the girls from earlier in the day make a beeline for you. You spend the whole night laughing and joking around. Nothing romantic eventuates, but you haven't made a fool of yourself or been rejected. You've got one of the girls numbers and you know you can put in some work tomorrow to try and hangout alone with her. But for now, you are just enjoying this evening.

This album is like driving from north out of Los Angeles on a family road trip. Foolishly, you underestimate how much fuel your SUV guzzles, and you see no sign of a petrol station for miles. Finally you reach one, but it is a pretty deserted looking truck stop with an adjoining diner called “Bubba’s Food Hut”. You count a row of about 12 or 13 Harley Davidsons parked up outside. “Let’s just get petrol and get right back on the road” you say to your family. Showing minimal appreciation for your nervousness, your 8 year old daughter complains that she needs the bathroom and is hungry. You say your prayers and venture into the diner. Expecting to be met by a group of aggressive thugs, instead you see a bunch of fellers in their 60s. They smile and nod their heads at you as you take your seat. You go to the counter to place your order, but the waitress calls you honey, and tells you to sit down because she’ll be right over. One of the old boys walks by you as you had back to your table and says hello. You smile politely, still not overly keen to get stuck in conversation, as these guys look like they’ve done some shit in their time. The man realises you’re from out of town, and excitedly asks the waitress to get a round of root beers for your family, on him. He also asks if there are any of those colouring in sheets for your children. You enjoy your root beers and order meals (made up of brisket, ribs, wings, mac and cheese and absolutely no vegetables), and end up having a great time. Several of the other bikers make conversation throughout the meal, and wish you a happy holiday.

This album is like going for a nice walk on a Sunday afternoon. It rained throughout the previous evening, but the Sun is peeking out through the clouds and the forecast says it is only going to improve, so you figure you should make the most of it. You hop in your car and drive out to the Waitakere ranges to walk a trail that you don't think you've done before. Even though it is a little damp underfoot, the walk is quite pleasant. At one point you get to a bit of a clearing, where the sunlight hitting the path gives rise to a bit of steam, creating a hazy effect. It is a bit ethereal to look at, but you don't feel compelled to stop and take it in for any longer. After a few more twists and turns, you get back to the carpark. You're a bit surprised, as you were expecting to see some more interesting things on your walk. Aside from that clearing and a relatively nice stream, you can only really recall punga trees and ferns. Not that you don't like those. You have to stop for petrol on the way home which is a bit of a pain, cos it isn't a 10c day at Z or BP. If only you could have lasted til Wednesday before filling up, you'd have saved a couple of extra dollars. Oh well, you're pretty sure Z puts their prices up on Wednesdays to cover the bigger discount anyway. You grab a Nippy's iced coffee to drink on the way home. It is only when you get into your car that you remember they have switched to cardboard straws. Does it spoil the taste? You think it does, but then maybe that is just your mind playing tricks on you. Nippy's is still pretty damn good, and you do enjoy this one. After an early dinner, you head to bed feeling relatively worn out. The next day you head to work and Denise asks what you got up to over the weekend. "Not much", you say to her. While the walk was good, it wasn't really good enough to tell your workmate about.

This album is like agreeing to go to your friends open-mic night at a local cafe slash lounge bar. You never really thought of her as much of a comedian, and you were right not to, because its not open-mic comedy that this place hosts, it is open-mic poetry. You're not sure about this, but it is a quiet Thursday night, the place has a liquor license, and you don't have any meetings tomorrow at work. You head in together and sit down at a small table for two. It is only now that you notice this place is quite funky. You have come here for a Saturday morning coffee a couple of times, but after dark it becomes quite a different place. Your friend goes to check in with the organisers, and offers to grab you a drink while she is up. You ask for a rum and coke. After a while she comes back with your drink and sits down. "They don't have actual Coke, so this is a rum and organic Cola". You stifle a groan and instead thank her. It doesn't taste good, so you tell yourself you'll get a negroni next time. There's no substitute for gin, Campari and vermouth, so they can't mess that up. While you make small talk with your friend and look around the room, noticing the cool art and album and movie posters from a bygone era, the lights dim. The host, a relatively short woman with thick brown hair and olive skin, walks to the microphone and welcomes you all to the evening. Is that a Hispanic accent? Ohhh yes it is. You are a big fan of her, and a big fan of this place. Your friend notices you gawking at this host. After a couple of surprisingly good poems, your friend gets up and reads hers. It is pretty good, but it is quite long. She keeps carrying on about her feelings of unrequited love for a close friend of hers. You don't really get it, but it the words flow well and the rest of the small audience clap politely, so you assume it was good. When is that host coming back though? Your friend sits down and you offer to get the next round. Negroni for you, house sav for her. Nothing wrong with a girl who enjoys a competitively priced wine. The host takes the stage, and thanks the audience before giving a special thanks to everyone who performed. She is keeping her right hand tucked over her left hand in front of her while she speaks, so you can't make out if there is a ring or not. You stay for a few more drinks and have a good yarn with your friend. Sadly, the host seems to have cleared out, so you'll just have to wonder what could have been. After a few more drinks, the conversation with your friend flows on really well. Not surprising, given you are good friends and have been for a while. Eventually you both decide it is probably time to head home. You both book ubers and wait on the footpath together. Hers arrives first, but before she gets in to it, she thanks you again, gives you a hug that lingers for a while longer than usual, and then gives you a sheepish kiss on the cheek. Pretty weird, you think to yourself - as you guys don't normally do that. Oh well, you were supportive tonight, and she obviously appreciated that. With your uber about 300m away, you notice the host walking out of the bar, making a bee-line to her car. Where had she been?! You run over and tell her this was the first time you had been to one of these nights, and you really enjoyed the work that she puts into it. She looks at you with her wide brown eyes, smiles, and says she hopes to see you again next week. Taking a page out of all of the poets books, you decide to bare your emotions to her. "I'd like to see you sooner than that actually", you say. She smiles, giggles a little bit, and then points out that your uber has arrived. That wasn't a no, so you'll be back next week.

This trip is like going away on holiday with your girlfriend to a Pacific Island. Things are getting pretty serious between the two of you, as is evidenced by the fact you have splashed out on international travel, and you are staying at quite a nice resort. On the first night, you notice a bonfire down on the beach, so you and your Julie go down to check it out. There are a couple of people sitting around enjoying the peaceful cackle of the flames, but it is not long before you notice one guy who seems to command the attention of everyone there. You join into his conversation just as he is explaining how he is so pained by all the conflict in the world, and thinks everyone should just be more chill. He manages to sneak into the conversation that he has thrown out his credit cards, and yeah his jandals are made from recycled motorcycle tyres. You don't think anyone asked. The strangest thing happens though, as you find yourself gradually agreeing with him more and more. What spell is this charismatic beach dweller casting over you? He's right you know, there are benefits to reverting back to a barter system. And yeah, banks aren't out to protect our interests, they are only in it for themselves! The night carries on, and people start to head off. As the bonfire begins to die down, the enigmatic revolutionist throws a small log on the flames, just to get us to bed time. It is only now that you notice that it is just this guy, you and your Julie left sitting around the fire. This dude starts speaking wistfully about the beauty of love, and the energy you can feel from giving all of yourself to another soul. Wait a minute... is this motherfucker hitting on your Julie?! She gets up and excuses herself, as she needs to run to the bathroom. All of a sudden it is just you and this dude. Are you in a battle of wits with him all of a sudden? Has he suggested this revolution purely as a means to get in between you and your Julie? As her silhouette appears over the dunes, he looks at you and says "Brother, you gotta cherish her. Take her for a walk along the beach down to the point at the southern end, and then come back here. Sit by the fire for a while and talk to her. Really talk to her. Let her see all of your feelings, your emotions, and you're true being. In return, she will do the same for you." As your Julie gets close, he gets up and announces that it is time for him to go to bed. With a friendly smile, he wishes you both a good evening, and disappears into the darkness. You go for a walk down to the point, as he suggested. You sit by the fire, as he suggested. And you talk. You really talk. He was right. She appreciates your openness, and reciprocates, before inviting you back to bed. The next day, you open the door to your bure, and look out to the sunrise. Suddenly, the man appears, walking over the dunes, towards you. Your Julie is still asleep, but he is happy to hear how your night ended. "Listen man, I actually wanted to apologize for last night. I have a bad habit of carrying on too long, and I am worried I kind of ruined your evening. This is obviously a romantic holiday for the two of you, and I just inserted myself into it. I actually brought this to offer as an apology" he says, as he hands you a bottle of coconut rum. You are appreciative, but you do notice the seal on the bottle is broken. You say farewell, and go back to bed to try and sneak another hour or two's rest.

So you’ve been living alone for a while now, and your elderly neighbour has asked you to come over to her house because she’s got a couple of odd jobs around the house she needs help with. She always greets you with a smile when you see each other over the fence, so you are happy to help. You head over and help her lift a couple of things out of the top shelf of her cupboard, and move an armchair for her. She then offers you a cup of tea. This album is the 27 minutes of you drinking tea with your elderly neighbour. You offer to help her with the tea, and can’t help notice a fair amount of dust in the mugs she has taken out. You can’t find a way to sneakily rinse them though, so you just accept this tea won’t be nice. This feeling is compounded by her adding water and barely stirring once before removing the bag. She doesn’t throw the used teabag out straight away, and you wonder if she might re-use it later. She adds a couple of drops of trim milk and you sit down. To accompany your tea, the lady offers you some shortbread that she baked “the other day”. It looks about three weeks old, and tastes as such, too. She makes polite conversation, however it is somber, as she makes several mentions of being quite lonely now that her beloved husband has passed. You do feel sad for her, and try to offer words of support and condolences. She assures you she is fine though, because she has found a lot of strength through religion and knitting. In fact she makes a couple of mentions of religion. She doesn’t outright ask you if you are a Christian, but she certainly asks a lot of questions trying to surreptitiously ascertain whether or not you have found Christ. Not looking to go down that path, you try and steer the conversation elsewhere, however the only cues around the room are several pictures of her husband and a tv guide from last month.

This album is like the time your aunt came and stayed for a couple of weeks because she had just gotten out of a messy relationship. You were a young teenager, desperate to experience the revelry of your future years, and your aunt was the window into that world. She does Tai Chi, drinks a buttery chardonnay with every lunch, smokes a pack of Benson & Hedges Special Filter a day, and turns a blind eye when you steal a couple. She is the one at the dinner table suggesting that you are old enough to have a glass of wine with your meal, much to the chagrin of your mother. Your father is pretty sick of this aunt, especially as this is the third time in as many years that she has needed to stay for "emotional support". He wouldn't dare say anything to your mother because that would risk an argument that he knows would get heated. Maybe his sister-in-law could contribute to the bills or groceries in some way? That chardonnay adds up you know, especially when she is going through almost a bottle every day. Every night, just before bed, he tries to psych himself up to suggest to your mum that it might be time her sister leaves, but then he hears sobbing coming from the spare bedroom, and muffled voices complaining to themselves about that how bastard Steve that has done her dirty and ruined her life. You dad thinks maybe she can stay for a few more days. After all, the kids seem to love having her around. Saturday morning arrives, and your aunt appears from her room at 10am, bright-eyed and excited for a new day of opportunities. Mum offers to cook bacon and eggs for everyone, and your aunt tells you and your sister a few anecdotes about some of her wilder years. You are still pretty young and naive, but you know a story about copious drug use and group sex when you hear one. This seems like as good a time as any to tell your parents you'll be out most of the day, as you are going to the movies with your friend Caroline. You mum gets nervous at the idea of you having a girlfriend, while your dad is quietly excited that you are showing that kind of confidence. Your aunt suggests to you that the dimly lit room of a movie theatre is the perfect place to sneakily sneak a hand up a girls skirt. All of a sudden you feel out of your depth.

This is like the time your close friend broke up with his girlfriend. He is devastated, but you are delighted cos you always thought she was a drag, and when they were dating he would never come out and party with you. Now it is the weekend, and it is your duty to lift him out of the mire of sadness and self-loathing that he has enveloped himself in. How do you do this though? Pretty simple really. Get a couple of your other close friends together, and get cross-eyed drunk. You all get dressed up in your best clothes. Denim vests, tight jeans, and more Lynx Africa body spray than the Surgeon General would ever approve. You're gonna go out and get wrecked. You're gonna go to the busiest night clubs, and you are gonna walk in like you own the show. Will everyone notice you? Of course. Will all the lads in the bar wish they could be like you? Obviously. Will every girl in the bar immediately lust for you? Duh. Will they get a chance to try and tame one of you wild stallions? Absolutely not. This is a night of brash, loud, arrogant fun. You'll show up at the club, you'll drink more vodka than the rest of the bar combined, you'll become the envy of everyone in the room, and you'll leave without ever seeing anyone again. Then you'll go to the White Lady Diner for a cheap burger where the four of you will discuss how great each of you are.

This album is like heading home from hanging out at a park with your friends, and finding a street carnival is going on just around the corner. The sounds are vibrant, and the air is thick with the aroma of street food. You senses are overloaded with the smell of meat cooked in a wide array of spices, while your eyes are greeted with bright colours everywhere you look. You can hear people chanting purposefully near the band a few hundred metres away. You can't make out what they are saying, but it sounds purposeful. Heat is rising from the asphalt as children run around chasing a soccer ball. Even though the sun is at it's hottest, and you know it has been four or five hours since you last applied the Hawaiian Tropic, you can't pull yourself way from this mini carnival. A man with a straw hat and a huge smile offers you a beer and thanks you for coming out and showing your support. You feel too sheepish to tell him you don't know what you are supporting, especially as he might take that ice-cold beer back from you. You decide to stick around for a bit, and before you know it the sun is coming down. After a few more beers and some amazing chicken and rice covered in spices your palette doesn't recognize, a woman grabs the band's microphone and thanks everyone for coming out today. She finishes her quick speech by boasting that there's no way they can't hear us now. You're not sure who 'they' are, but you really hope they listen.

This album is like your flatmate's douchebag boyfriend joining in on you and your friends weekly dinner gathering. Most Wednesdays, you and your friends take turns at hosting each other for dinner, where you get takeaways and watch the latest episode of that new tv show. About five minutes before everyone's scheduled arrival, your flatmate appears from her room and asks if her boyfriend can join. To be honest, you're a little surprised that she is joining, let alone her boyfriend. She moved in about six weeks ago after seeing the listing on TradeMe, and has made no effort to talk to you or anyone else. Normally she goes out most evenings, and when she doesn't, she typically stays in her room. You are nervous it will be a little weird, because nobody really knows your flatmate, let alone her boyfriend. You think maybe this is a chance to start a bit of a friendship with her though, so you agree. This dude shows up wearing a waistcoat, scarf and a fedora, and introduces himself as Obsidian Smooth. What the fuck? He then pulls out a corked Malbec and firmly orders your flatmate to go and get him a Zinfandel glass and some ice for his wine. She doesn’t know what that is, but offers him a stemless wine glass. He is very noticeably underwhelmed. You haven’t even sat down yet and you already want to kick this guy. One of your friends arrives with the pizzas, and Obsidian complains that there are no dairy free options with anchovies. “Sorry Obsidian, we weren’t aware that you were join-” you say, before he firmly interrupts you. “It is Obsidian Smooth. Not Obsidian. Obsidian... Smooth.” You apologise again. Your flatmate looks at you disappointedly. Is she upset that you didn’t call him by his full name? Or because she knows he is going to be in a bad mood for the rest of the night now, and she’ll probably bear the brunt of that? He doesn't show much interest in getting to know your friends, but you trudge on trying to start a conversation that everyone can get involved in. “Hey the tv show doesn’t start for another 40 minutes, does anyone have any music requests? While the likes of LCD Soundsystem, Frank Ocean and Radiohead are suggested as options, Obsidian (yeah, that’s right, just Obsidian. Fuck this guy) pulls out a CD from his waistcoat pocket and throws it at you. You don’t even have a CD player, but you feel awkwardly obliged to go and get you’re laptop otherwise this guy might make a scene. You return with your old laptop, not sure whether you are happy or sad that you had the means to play a CD, and put the disc in. It is a blank CD, with the name “Thelonious Licks and the Lounge Panthers” written in blue vivid on it. Oh shit. Who is this band mate? “Well firstly, I haven’t decided if you are my mate yet. But this is my band. We are one of the only bands in the game that draws inspiration from the Munich Jazz scene, but has the guts to add a kazoo to the mix. I am the second saxophonist”. Literally every word he just said makes you want to scream and punch him in the ear. Thelonious Licks? The Lounge Panthers? He wasn't even the first saxophonist? Germany had a Jazz scene? The first song lasts the full 40 minutes you had available before the TV show starts. Mercifully, you turn it off and put the TV on. obsidian (yeah, not even a capital letter any more, even though it is the first word of the sentence) loudly groans and gets up and leaves without saying goodbye to anyone. Fuck that guy is a knob.

This album is like the meal you have at a quiet restaurant the night before your friend’s wedding. They are getting married in an isolated town. You’ve flown in on the Friday, but you know they’ll be too busy to see you the night before their big day. You don’t know many of the other guests, so you don’t really have anyone to hang out with tonight. You’ve had a long day - flying to the nearby city, renting a car and driving to this town ended up taking most of your day. You drop your bags at your motel and ask where the best food options are. The old lady at the front desk suggests a quiet little steak house, so off you go. You find the quaint little restaurant. There’s only one other table seated, so you sit in a booth and order a beer. The steak is cooked pretty well, and there are plenty of potatoes. No kūmara though. There is a tv with the rugby on, and some music quietly playing behind the bar, but not too much else is going on. The staff are friendly, and bring your bill soon after your last mouthful. You head back to your motel room and look for a movie to watch. There Will Be Blood is about to start. Great movie, but you are pretty tired, so you just have a shower and go to bed.

This album is like sitting in the hostel bar having a beer while some birkenstock-wearing guy in hemp pants and an unbuttoned floral shirt tells the room about how he considers himself more of a 'traveler' than a 'tourist'. You find yourself wondering if all 'travelers' own an Apple Watch, but fearing you are being too cynical, you keep your mouth shut. He proceeds to tell everyone a story about how he was in Bhutan last summer and met an actual shaman. Explaining how this was the most spiritual moment of his life, he proudly claims that he has started to learn how to transverse the axis mundi himself, but of course he's just a beginner. You consider if maybe Bhutan would be a cool place to go and see, but you don't really want to ask this dude for travel tips.

This album is like the extended family having a get together because your cousin is back from her gap year in London and has a photo slideshow to show. Oh wow, you saw the London Eye AND Big Ben? And you got in a black cab? You wish your uncle would offer to top up your glass of wine, but apparently we aren't allowed to interrupt this show. At least your grandparents seem to be enjoying it.

This album is like going to a travelling carnival with a girl you secretly like but haven’t told yet. The park has real carnie vibes, and the rides look pretty sketchy. You both enjoy yourself, and end things going into the mirror maze together. You have a really fun time, then agree to get a hot dog and some candy floss to share before you’ll go home. Half way through the candy floss, you’re just about to ask this girl if she’d like to go on a date with you, but before you can she starts talking first. “It’s been so great just hanging out with a friend. I’ve really needed this, thanks buddy!” Buddy?! And to think you were gonna suggest having a go at the ring toss before leaving, so that you could try and win a teddy bear to give to her.

This album is like going to to your high school dance. In the weeks leading up to the big night, you are excited about renting a nice suit and looking fly, and showing up in a limousine because that is what you are meant to do for school ball. Everyone is hyped for what figures to be the highlight of the school year. People are talking about who is taking who, where the pre-drinks are happening, and how rowdy the afterball is gonna get. The girls are talking about their ideas for hairstyles and what colour dresses they are gonna wear. You've even picked out a tie that matches your date's dress. The big night comes. The pre-drinks are fun, but controlled. You want to get a shine on, but you know you have to talk to the headmaster and introduce your date before entering the party, so you don't go too crazy. After that admin is out of the way, you and your friends burst into the hall, ready to have the time of your life. High on euphoria, everyone heads straight to the dancefloor to boogie down. Initially it is great. The DJ is playing a club banger, everyone is looking good and the venue looks great with the balloons and bright lights. But pretty quickly you realise you don't actually like dancing. You are pretty hot in this suit, and it is not like you are that excited to see your friends, because you see most of them five days a week at school. Before you know it, you are discussing whether or not you are prepared for end of year exams. Later on, you and your date hit the dance floor for a slow-dance, but it has the feeling of a nice moment to end the night on, as opposed to the first romantic spark to a relationship.

This album is like that strange period at the end of secondary school when you have finished your exams, but you still need to attend the last couple of weeks of school because there are prizegivings and other events to play out. Having literally no responsibilities in terms of your education, you spend your days just hanging out with your friends, drinking in the fact that you have made it to the end of school. These people have been your close friends for at least five years, some of them closer to 13 years as you went to the same primary school. You are all quietly a bit sad because you aren't going to see each other as much next year, as you're all going to universities in different cities. But this isn't the time to get sad about that. You walk around together on a sunny afternoon, reminiscing about memories from different places around the school. Visiting all your favourite haunts like the tuck shop, the brick wall outside the chemistry block, and the small shaded lawn area behind the carpentry building, you can't but look back at your time and thing that you have given school life a red hot run, and enjoyed almost every step.

This album is like going for a hike with your friends on a bush trail. The walk was only meant to take around two hours, but you've been walking for longer than that already, and there is no sign of the end. Did you make a wrong turn? There was that fork in the road a while back but the other path looked so worn down, that couldn't possibly have been the way you were meant to go. You press on. You happen across a small glade, where a group of people are gathered. You wonder if you should approach them to ask for guidance, and a guy wearing mustard corduroys, a worn green linen shirt and a brown, unbuttoned hemp waistcoat gets up and beckons you over. Everyone gives you a warm welcome, but you can't shake the feeling that they are not just saying hi, but instead welcoming you as if you are a new member to their group. They all speak in soft tones, and instead of giving you directions to the carpark, they suggest you should join them for a while. You are a bit tired from walking, and everyone seems nice, so you have a seat. They are discussing times in their lives when they were feeling at their lowest, and how through spirituality they were able to get back on their feet. Not spirituality in a religious sense, in fact they are actually quite vague about the details. Yep, you've walked in on a cult. You press for directions home. They tell you that you could walk down the path over there (turns out you were on the right path after all ffs), or you could stay for a bit longer, cos Quentin over there is just brewing a pot of tea using leaves he grows at home. You politely decline and leave. You don't want to run, but you also don't dawdle.

This album is like an alternative reality where you decided to drink Quentin's tea from that Fleet Foxes hike situation you found yourself in the other day. You were nervous about your surroundings, but after a brew of tea made with questionable ingredients (i.e. not bergamot), all of a sudden you have a feeling of inner warmth, happiness, and unexplained peace. The colours are more colourful, the sounds of the forest are playing out like a natural orchestra, and Quentin's bongo drum session is speaking straight to your soul. You're not sure what the next phase brings. You may never come down from this feeling, or you may wake up in a bush clearing with no phone or shoes. But that's a question to worry about later.

It is early January, you are with your parents at the family holiday home. They are going on an evening lake cruise with their friends and they don't want to get a babysitter, so they are dragging you along. At least your cousins will be there, but you'd rather just be at home playing PlayStation because you were given Final Fantasy VIII and you just passed the SeeD exam so you can start exploring the open world, outside of Balamb Garden and the Fire Cavern. Your parents and their friends are having a great time, drinking rum-based cocktails that are heavy on the pineapple, but there isn't too much for you to do. The buffet dinner has chicken nuggets which is pretty cool, but by the time you have waited for the adults to serve themselves, the nuggies have cooled down quite a lot, and they were actually pretty stale anyway. Now that the adults have a good head of steam up, the karaoke machine is turned on and you watch as your parents fumble their way through The Lion Sleeps Tonight. They get you to join them to provide the background 'wimoweh' chant which is pretty fun, but you are aware that you are very much an extra in this evening, and the lake cruise wasn't really planned with you in mind.

This album is like walking along a road on a Saturday afternoon, and stumbling across a group of friends kicking around a soccer ball. They are all very talented, but there is one guy that is head and shoulders above everyone else. When he gets the ball, he immediately showboats with flashy dribbling to get around defenders. But it's not like he is showing off. He is doing it out of pure love of the game. This isn't arrogance, it is art. The weirdest thing is, he's not even wearing shoes while he does it. Quite a few people have gathered to watch now, as this guy is putting on a show. He is obviously enjoying himself, but you can't tell if he is enjoying the crowd's admiration or if he is just enjoying doing what he loves. There is an attractive girl standing off to the side of the game, and whenever he doesn't have the ball he is playing up for her. Grabbing her and doing swift dance moves with her, laughing and joking around with her. Then the ball comes his way, and he is back rainbow flicking the ball over defenders. At one stage he stopped for a couple of keepy-ups, only to end with a bicycle kick at goal. The shot misses the goal, and he gets up and laughs it off as if it was nothing. You do notice the first person he looked at after getting up was that girl. Is she his girlfriend? You're not sure. But she is enjoying the attention. You know where this is going. Good for him.

This album is like a tailgate party before an LA Rams game in the 70s. The game doesn't kick off for a few hours, but the crowds have made their way to the carpark outside the stadium nice and early to get hyped for the game. There are about eighteen different barbeques cooking burgers and pork chops within a three hundred metre radius, and every car boot has a chilly bin filled with beers in it. People walk from car to car, sharing a beer and a yarn with people they have never met before and will never speak to again after the game. The crowd is a diverse cross section of all that Los Angeles has to offer. Suburban families, low-level street criminals, LSD-fuelled hippes, Silicon Valley tech-bros, crack heads who aren't going to the game but love the chance to scab a beer are all mingling together amongst each other. Obviously these people wouldn't normally look twice at each other, but their local sports team has brought them together into a short-term community, and they are enjoying every moment of it.

This album is like being at a small house party and seeing an acoustic guitar leant against a couch in the corner. There are a few cute girls at this party, and since your lack of charisma with the ladies rules out any chances of you sweet talking them, you grab the Epiphone and play some classics. Everlong goes down well with the girls, but you can’t help notice you’re doing more singing than they are, because they don’t know the lyrics as well as you. Fuck it, time for Wonderwall. The girls butcher the words to that too, but you don’t care. You actually stop singing because it is a foolish play to assert your lyrical knowledge over them. For one, it’s rude. Secondly, you don’t get to second base with a girl by pointing out her inaccuracies in singing along to a song. Things are going pretty good, and you’re just about to slow things down with your next song. The trick is, play a couple of songs that the ladies know well, then hit them with a gentle acoustic that they aren’t too familiar with, as a means to show your guitar playing skills. Even better if the lyrics get a bit emotional, better yet if they hint at the need for emotional connection with someone. “Another Lonely Day” by Ben Harper, come on down! But wait, here’s your friend who doesn’t go to house parties, and has only had one beer. Why is he intervening? “Bro Ben Harper is a sellout, listen to this!” He proceeds to snatch the guitar off you and rip into his work. Admittedly, this dude fucking shreds. He isn’t playing any songs that you’ve heard of though, and you think he might just be riffing this on the spot. It’s really impressive stuff, but the girls are obviously put off. They go outside and talk to the soccer jocks outside. You resign yourself to drinking 14 more beers.

This album is like underage drinking with your close friends. You’re still too young for your fake IDs to work at pubs, and you think most of the people you go to school with are tools. So instead of hanging out with them, you go to your friends house cos his parents have a basement lounge where you can drink and party without being bothered by his mum and dad. The walls are cinder-block and it’s cold outside, so you put a fan-heater on. Before you know it, you are sitting in a sauna. But that is ok, there is a tv showing the Panthers v Sharks game and you’ve got enough Double Browns to last a nuclear winter. There’s only four of you there and sure, you are missing out on broader social interactions. But also you are spending some good times with your closest friends. You’re happy with your Saturday night choices.

This album is like nerdy music kids rocking up to the 6th form school ball as if they own the place. They never really socialised with anyone else other than each other, and you always thought that even though they are good guys, they weren’t exactly fun to hang out with on weekends. But here they are, rocking the cleanest suit and tie combos in the room, knowing they look good and commanding the respect of others because of it. One of them is wearing sunglasses inside which is insane levels of skux that you simply didn’t think they had. You’ve never seen them exude such confidence, and you can’t help but admire them. You catch up with one of them at the after-ball and remember they are still the same old nerdy nice guys though. The drinks on offer are beer and white wine, and this dude just ordered a dirty martini.

This album is like a guy wearing a velvet bucket hat in a garden bar on a sunny afternoon. He also has Oakley speed-dealers with clear yellow lenses. When he walks to the bar to get another Pimm’s cup, he adds a little funky jive strut into his stride, and smiles at everyone he sees in a blatant attempt to force some sort of communal feeling to the afternoon.

This album paints the picture of a wealthy elderly man sitting at his dinner table, his wife opposite him. There is a decadent feast on the table in front of them. The gentleman knows that he doesn’t have much longer on earth, so he takes the time to recollect his time with his wife. Falling in love with her at high school. Marrying young and leaving school, against the wishes and advice of everyone they knew. Running away from home to chase the dreams of big city living. Facing the difficulties of trying to find their feet as a poor young couple in a new unforgiving city. The fresh love that parenthood brought, and the gut wrenching heartbreak of losing their second child. Throughout everything though, he was maintained by the love of his beloved wife. The conversation ends when he reaches the final sadness he has experienced, the death of his wife. Suddenly, he snaps back to reality and realises he is at the table alone. While his plate has nothing left on it aside from a chicken drumstick bone and half a roasted parsnip that he couldn’t finish, there is an untouched meal in an empty setting across from him. As he is jolted from his blissful daydream, he gets up and solemnly heads to bed. He doesn’t take his suit off, and doesn’t bother to brush his teeth. He gets into bed and closes his eyes, hopefully for the last time.

This album is like being at a house party with your new girlfriend. Your friend’s parents are rich and their house is massive. You decide to leave the main party room, and get into the spa pool together. You and your girlfriend are in that initial phase of a relationship where you haven’t discovered any of each other’s character flaws. Everyone else is inside and the doors are closed, so the party noise has been dulled down to a quiet background sound. You are already comfortable enough together that silence isn’t awkward, and you don’t feel compelled to say something just for the sake of talking. Instead you just look at the stars and enjoy the peaceful quiet.

This album is like your school history teacher. She taught you a couple of years ago, but you haven’t been in her class since. Even so, she remembers you and always greets you with a smile when you see her. Her door is always open if you have any issues of any kind. She offers warm comfort if you are struggling with bullies, or something is going on at home, or if you just need help with an English essay. She speaks with such worldly experience, and any advice she gives comes with somber undertones which tell you she has lived a hard life. You always admire how even when weighed down by difficulties she has faced, she always maintains a positive outlook. At the end of your time at school, she’ll be the only teacher that you get to sign your yearbook.

This album is like driving home after visiting your grandfather. While it was a great time seeing him, and you enjoyed updating each other about recent events in your life (the round of golf you played yesterday, the prospect of buying a new house, and his neighbour inviting him over for a gin the other day), you can’t shake this underlying knowledge that he looks more and more frail each time you see him. While you enjoyed the afternoon with him, you are aware that there won’t be many more like this.

This album is like being a 15 year old in high school and being visited by 42 year old who claims he’s come back from the future, to show you how to be cool at school. He drives a white Ferrari so you think he might know a thing or two. He visits you at school and threatens the bullies at school which you think is awesome. But also he tries to invite your girlfriend in to quiet rooms on multiple occasions which is pretty fucked up cos she is your girlfriend and he knows that. Also because he is 42 and she is 15. Is this guy even from the future? He might just be a coke-head. Cool car though.

This album is like sitting in a bar on a Tuesday night feeling sorry for yourself because you like a girl at work but you're not sure she feels the same way and you don't want to put yourself out there to her because if she rejects you, you'll be stuck working with her for the term of your contract and that will be more awkward than anything you've ever known. A man walks into the bar, sits next to you and orders himself a Manhattan. The lady behind the bar has already started pouring it before he orders, so you know he comes here often. He looks over at you and remarks that you have the downtrodden face of a man that is struggling with his emotions, then offers an ear for your troubles. Normally you don't engage with strangers, especially ones who apparently habitually drink Manhattans on a Tuesday night. But you're not really sure how to navigate these feelings without any outside help. You explain the situation and the man smiles. 'You've just gotta go for it my brother', he says. Before you can explain to him how it isn't really that easy, he bursts into an excited rant about the beauty of love, and how wonderful it is that such a raw emotion doesn't bow down to any humanity-imposed barriers like 'you can't have the hots for your workmates' and 'you can only love one girl at once'. While you are somewhat lured in by his charismatic words, he does go off the handle a little bit. Like, you really should only love one girl at a time.

It is the first class of your sixth form year at school. Halfway through roll-call, a new girl walks into your class and sits down. She doesn't apologise for being late, and has a faint smell of cigarette smoke lingering around her. Dressed in skate shoes, baggy denim jeans and a loose fitting grey hoodie, she slumps into her seat, as if to tell the room she is already bored. At lunch, you go over to her to introduce yourself. She doesn't seem interested in learning your name, but cuts straight to asking if you want to ditch the afternoon and go hang out at her house. Normally you'd never agree to truancy, but something about her draws you to say yes. You're not attracted to her at all. Or are you? You go to her house, where her brother and a couple of his friends are already relaxing, playing playstation and drinking alcohol. You immediately feel out of your depth. Nervously, you question if maybe you should go back to school. You've got a strict chemistry teacher who wouldn't tolerate your lack of attendance. 'You'd rather hang out with Mr Southern than me?' the girl says as she takes off her hoodie to reveal a tight fitting tank top. Next thing you know you are playing Madden while drinking something called Mad Jacks Gold. The girl asks if you'd like to go up to her room with her. You say yes before she's even finished asking. Excitedly you stand up, but she bursts out laughing and says 'as if!', punching you in the arm. This girl is going to be the end of you.

This album is like interviewing a serial killer who eats babies, just before they sit in the electric chair. It’s your last chance to try and understand their motives. They ask for a piece of paper and request to be left alone. Forty minutes later, you return to the room to find they’ve used the paper to cut the corners of their own mouth, and they have smeared their faeces on the wall to create an image that kind of looks like Hitler being crucified.

This album is like the last night of a holiday in a Mediterranean town. Your friends have all taken earlier flights home, so it’s just you now, with one evening to kill before your flight in the morning. As the sun sets, you walk along the tree-lined river bank, and decide to stop at a nearby cafe for an espresso (a habit you have become a fan of during this trip). You sit at a table outside, under the warm light of a lamppost. This is quite a sleepy town, so there’s not much going on, aside from an elderly couple going for an evening stroll, and a woman cycling home from the library. She rides on the footpath as the cobblestone road would be a nightmare on her bike’s suspension.

This album is like a young boys first Blue Light disco (or Jet Sonic, if you are a bit younger). He doesn’t know how to talk to girls yet, so he just has three cans of coke and runs round the place. He also doesn’t know how to dance, so instead of asking a girl to slow dance with him, he just gets on the dance floor and flails every limb around furiously.

This is like catching the bus from the airport to your hostel on the first day of an overseas holiday. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping. A couple is going for a stroll through a park, while some female uni students sit on a blanket having a picnic. Younger children are playing baseball. But also there is a smack head passed out on a park bench, and three older boys are discussing stealing the kids’ baseball bat and lunch money.

This album is like your English teacher telling you to write a short story in class. The only advice he gives is to write from experience, because it is hard to make a lie sound conceivable. “Fuck that guy!” you think to yourself, as you write a love story set against the backdrop of the Korean War. You’re a 14 year old virgin and the Korean War ended 30 years before you were born, but that’s not gonna stop you from writing a banger of a story. Turns out he was right. Your story had no soul.

This is like being at the pub with your mates after work. You're having a casual beer before heading home to your loving wife and two children. But some old rooster is at the bar and has clearly been parked up for the better part of the afternoon. He makes eye contact with you, ambles over, and proceeds to chew your ear off about how good weekday drinking is. He is proud to tell you how happy he is to be away from the ball and chain, and continues to force his habitual drinking into the conversation at every opportunity. Another round? No thanks. Out of fear that this guy is offering a glimpse into your future, you head home.

This is like sitting in a diner in Middle America at about 2.30 on a muggy afternoon. The plastic water cups on your table are fresh out of the washer, so they are hot enough to warm any water beyond room temp. The jukebox is playing up again, so it is just repeating the same three second stretch of music. There is a rusty ceiling fan on low, but it is so hot that it is only pushing warm air on to you. You have arrived just after the lunch time rush, so the kitchen can only offer you a chili con carne that is thermonuclear in heat. The bean to meat ratio is heavily favouring the beans, so you're pretty sure you're gonna shit yourself on the drive home. There is a dusty old cougar wearing leather and leopard print, keen to talk to you because your out-of-town accent arouses her.

You’re a woman in her early thirties, fresh off a messy divorce. Your three closest girlfriends have booked you in for a holiday in a nice sunny resort town. Your days consist of sunbathing, daiquiris, and not much else. Maybe a swim in your two-piece bikini to make sure the younger guys at the resort still sneak a perve at you. They do. One of the staff members is an outrageously confident man, always talking up your beauty and suggesting that you and your friends should join him at a local nightclub so you can get a real feel for the local culture. He speaks to women with such confidence that you are sure he is either gay or a legendary lothario. You try to get a bit of an idea of his background but he doesn’t give much away, aside from mentioning a very short stint he had as a school music teacher. Turns out it fell through pretty quickly because of some rich old man, but you get the idea that there is a lot of burning hatred there.

This album is like a young professional in the 80s. He is a go-getter at work, and his aptitude for mergers and acquisitions has led him to wealth beyond what he deserves. He drives a flash sports car that has a built in phone. He’s got electric blue suits, ray ban sunglasses and a $250 haircut. Everything looks perfect. But this guy’s smile (and artificially whitened teeth), hide a darkness in his soul. He was having an affair with his PA at work, and his wife found out. She’s moved out and taken their two year old child with her. The PA is now blackmailing him into fast tracking her career. It’s Wednesday night and he’s ripping the seal off the second bottle of whiskey for the week. His last big deal fell through and he doesn’t know if he can make his bonus numbers for the month.

This album is like spending a week with your grandmother because it is school holidays, both of your parents work, and you are too young to be left at home alone. Grandma makes sure the week is fun, by taking you to her golf club to hit some balls and eat fish and chips for dinner. The next day you go to the harbour and look at boats before getting some mini donuts for afternoon tea.

This album is like your mate who does everything he can to fit in, but doesn’t really have any unique characteristics that make him interesting. He wears skate shoes, but they are pristine so you know he can’t kickflip. He has a Mr Zogs Sex Wax air freshener in his car, but he never wants to join in on the boys’ surf trip. When he buys a subway sandwich, he gets a six inch ham with lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise. There’s nothing wrong with him, but he’s never the first person you message when you’re looking for someone to grab a beer with.

An old man sits in an armchair in the lounge at his retirement home. There are about 15 other residents sitting around him, and morning tea is being served by two lovely Filipino nurses. There is some concert music playing on a tv in the corner, to break the silence. The man happily drifts off into a daydream, remembering back to his youth when it was all surf trips and pub lunches. My God he was a womaniser back then.

You’ve just been out skateboarding with some friends and now you’re home to put on your tightest black jeans and your cut-off denim vest which has spikes around the shoulders. A couple of quick jack-and-cokes before putting on your black high top Chuck Taylor’s and heading to a gig to call the band posers and intimidate some preppy pop fans.