Carpool – Come Thru Cool (Punk Ass) | Track Premiere

The newest Carpool single begins with a swirl of radio static that immediately transports the listener back to the 90s, a side-effect that’s very much intentional. Within seconds, a sludgy guitar lick overwhelms the senses, quickly paving the way for a throat-shredding bellow that would make Keith Buckley proud. And just like that… you’re in Carpool’s world.

Following lead single “The Salty Song (Erotic Nightmare Summer),” the band’s latest track “Come Thru Cool (Punk Ass)” utilizes just as many parentheses and packs just as much of a punch as its predecessor. Throughout the song, Carpool pairs thrashy, fuzzed-out power chords in the vein of fellow New York rockers Prince Daddy & The Hyena with blissed-out melodic vocals that echo 90s radio rock giants like Third Eye Blind. This combination results in an intoxicating two minutes and twenty-two seconds that unequivocally proves that there’s never enough sneering emo-punk in the world.

On a conceptual level, “Come Thru Cool” is at once a hometown anthem, a childhood nostalgia trip, and a pissed-off vent session. It’s a song about replacing your waning innocence with self-help; a blur of warm, fuzzy feelings that are constantly clashing with the cold realities of adulthood. It’s an anthemic, fist-balling, scream-along sunny weather punk rock song that combines a catchy Oso Oso-tier chorus with the full-bodied delivery of Dogleg. Carpool places these full-throttle vocal stylings over a tight and polished instrumental and caps it all off with a bout of shouty pop-punk gang vocals. “Come Thru Cool” is a hooky punk confection that lodges itself in your brain like bubblegum. If these singles are any indication, the band’s forthcoming album is guaranteed to be one of the most impressive debuts of the year.

“Come Thru Cool (Punk Ass)” drops on streaming platforms tomorrow, May 15th, and Carpool’s debut LP will be available everywhere on June 5th through Acrobat Unstable Records.

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An Introduction To Post-Rock

Sometime in the spring of 2011, I was assigned to read The Metamorphosis for a high school lit class. I was a little bummed that I had to spend some of my spring break doing homework, but it was a class I enjoyed, so I did it anyway. That year my family spent our spring break in a little house on the Oregon coast, and it was (unexpectedly) rainy for most of the week. Given the weather, I decided what better time to sit down and read this trippy-ass short story.

I laid down on my rented bed in my room that smelled distinctly “beachy” and listened to the raindrops patter against the window as the skies turned greyer and darker. I turned on my trusty iPod and decided that now was the time to listen to that new band I heard about called “Explosions in the Sky.” I put on The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place, the album with the most striking title, and cracked open my copy of the book.

For the next 40-some-odd minutes, I became so absorbed in the reading that I completely forgot about the outside world until the album came to a close. It was a meditative and (fittingly) transformative listening experience. I’d never heard anything quite like that album, and I immediately started another one of the band’s half-dozen records I had loaded onto my iPod before leaving Portland. 

Over the course of the next year, I had an absolute love affair with post-rock. A love that was kindled by one record soon grew into a new realm of sound that I relished exploring. It wasn’t like the other rock music I was used to, it completely calmed my mind and helped me focus on my work, whatever that was at the time. 

The genre single-handedly helped me get through college, soundtracking thousands of hours of reading, studying, and writing. To this day, post-rock still offers some of the most breathtaking and timeless songs in my entire music library, and I believe it’s a genre that’s worth submerging yourself in entirely. 

What follows are nine albums intended to offer a crash course of the post-rock/instrumental genre. These are personal favorites from bands that I love, all with varying degrees of significance within the actual “scene” itself, but albums that I would recommend to anyone, regardless of background or experience with this type of music. I genuinely believe that these albums serve a dual purpose as a sort of driving but distraction-free background music while also being some of the most moving and compelling pieces of art ever created. 

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Explosions In The Sky - The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place (2003)

Arguably one of the few unanimous post-rock records, The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place would easily be on the genre’s Mount Rushmore. While Explosion In The Sky’s debut is a wonderful bit of glittering heavy-metal post-rock, I’d argue the band has improved their sound, production, and approach to music with nearly every record. Their sophomore effort is a more mellow and moody atmospheric experience (that also happens to bear one of my favorite songs of all time), but it wasn’t until The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place that the band found themselves at the forefront of the scene with a budding new audience. Thanks in large part to their contributions to the Friday Night Lights score, but also because Cold Dead Place is a tight, economic album that showcases exactly what the genre is capable of in its purest form. 

Opening with the faint siren song of a single guitar on “First Breath After a Coma,” the record eases the listener into the band’s style like a doctor birthing a baby. The group gently layers multiple shimmering guitars over a subtle heart-beat-like floor tom keeping time. They play with adding and removing elements until a steady drumroll sweeps the listener away, and just like that, we’re off. The band crests and crescendos with masterful ease throughout the record, whether it’s the pensive “Six Days at the Bottom of the Ocean” or the lovestruck “Your Hand In Mine.” It may only be five tracks in total, but that doesn’t make this record any less fulfilling. I literally could not imagine a better entry point into the genre for myself or anyone else. 

Mogwai - Come On Die Young (1999)

On the polar opposite end of The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place, we have Mogwai’s sophomore album Come On Die Young. These two records are not connected in any way, other than the fact that I listened to them roughly around the same time and they both felt like stark counter-points to each other. While Cold Dead Place is a light, airy, and positive album Come On Die Young is a dark, confining, and foreboding piece of music. Just look at the two covers next to each other and tell me which one you think is going to be more oppressive. While I believe that the members of Mogwai are all great people, this record is simply one of the most evil things I’ve ever heard. This is darker than black metal, more unnerving than a horror movie soundtrack, and more overwhelming than anything you’ve ever heard. 

Opening with a swirling, distorted soundscape on “Punk Rock:” the band lets a soundbite from a 1977 Iggy Pop interview provide the thesis statement for the record: “Well, I'll tell you about punk rock, "punk rock" is a word used by dilettantes and, uh, and, uh heartless manipulators about music, that takes up the energies and the bodies and the hearts and the souls and the time and the minds of young men who give what they have to it and give everything they have to it.”

After that articulate introduction from the godfather of punk, the band pulls the rug out from under the listener with “Cody,” a precious and slow-moving love song about an ever-shifting relationship existing in an ever-shifting world. While it took me entirely too long to realize that “Cody” wasn’t named after a person, but instead an initialism of the album name, it also took me entirely too long to realize that this is the only song on the record with vocals. From there, “Helps Both Ways” utilizes a sample of John Madden commentary to navigate the murky waters of a crushingly moody riff. Meanwhile, “Kappa” and “Christmas Steps” both boast lumbering instrumentals while “Ex-Cowboy” features the more searing and rapid guitar strumming pattern dripping in reverb that the genre is most known for. Come On Die Young is far from a happy album, but it possesses an emotional catharsis the likes of which few other genres can provide. This record, combined with Cold Dead Place offer an excellent overview of the range that this genre can have with Come On Die Young existing in a more rotted and sinister end without being too offputting to newcomers.

This Will Destroy You - Young Mountain (2006)

Yet another record I’d put on the post-rock Mount Rushmore, the debut album from This Will Destroy You exists somewhere on the tonal spectrum in between Explosions in the Sky and Mogwai. Blending the cinematic builds of Explosions and the more brooding pensiveness of Mogwai, Young Mountain lies at a healthy middle ground of post-rock. 

From the first majestic keystrokes and gently-falling guitar notes of “Quiet,” you can immediately tell this record is something different. There are heart-pumping builds on “There Are Some Remedies Worse Than The Disease,” there’s world-conquering uplift on “I Believe in Your Victory,” and there’s hypnotic glitchiness on “Grandfather Clock.” While the band arguably has bigger “hits” on their self-titled record with songs like “The Mighty Rio Grande,” it’s hard to argue with the punctuality of Young Mountain. This is the debut of a band who knew exactly what they were doing and exactly the kind of art they wanted to put out into the world.

Godspeed You! Black Emperor - Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven (2000)

Quite possibly the defining work of the post-rock genre, Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven contains only four tracks, each clocking in at roughly twenty minutes apiece. It’s less of an album and more of an experience that the band shepherds the listener through. These songs, or acts, are each composed of different movements, all of which are depicted in the vinyl in a timestamped illustrated diagram depicting the “intensity” of each segment. While that gatefold makes this a rewarding album to sit down with, focus on, and follow along with closely, these are ultimately just ornate layers of detail on top of an already-beautiful album.

Album opener “Storm” begins with a triumphant build of guitar, bass, and drums, eventually layering on horns, a string section, and an entire orchestra as the track gains momentum. This is not the dark and grim apocalyptic band that recorded F# A# ∞, or even Slow Riot For New Zero Kanada two years prior, this is Godspeed as a blossoming flower opening up to see the world as their stage. However, by the time the first track ends (a movement called “Cancer Towers on Holy Road Hi-Way”), it’s clear that there’s something more sinister brewing just beneath the surface. 

“Static” features ominous demonic hums that build to a cataclysmic explosion. “Sleep” is at once a dreamy, floaty, and wistful bad trip. Finally, the title track brings things home with a soaring and anthemic song that mounts into a beautiful conclusion. Quite frankly, Lift Your Skinny Fists is an album that must be experienced to be understood, there’s a reason why it’s become the defacto post-rock album for millions of fans. 

Sigur Rós - ( ) (2002)

At some point near the end of my high school experience I stumbled upon Sigur Rós, and that discovery (combined with copious amounts of metalcore) helped me realize how little lyrics really matter to me. With all of their songs being either instrumental, sung in Icelandic, or “Hopelandic” (a gibberish blend of English and Icelandic that the band invented), I didn’t understand a word these guys were saying. Don’t get me wrong; a well-written song is great, but as far as I’m concerned good lyrics are just a cherry on top, not a necessity. 

While some may sing the praises of their breakthrough Ágætis byrjun or the overwhelmingly pleasant Takk..., I believe ( ) to be their most consistent album. Comprised of 8 “untitled” songs, the record is divided into two even halves separated by 36-seconds of silence and bookended by two clicks of static. The first half of the album is more bright and optimistic, while the second half is more bleak and desolate. It’s a loose concept album in that sense, but ( ) offers a beautiful depth and breathtaking range of emotions over the course of its 76-minute running time. It bears the strange, otherworldly qualities that Sigur Rós is known for while still feeling grounded enough in reality that a newcomer can wade in comfortably.

Russian Circles - Enter (2006)

Admittedly a half-step away from post-rock and toward straight-up metal, the debut album from Russian Circles is a beautiful, heavy, and riff-oriented instrumental post-metal album. Packed with precise guitar riffs, tight drumming, and world-shattering basslines, this record truly has a little bit of everything. 

From the clockwork-like build of “Carpe” to the crushing bounding riffage on “Death Rides a Horse,” the record is a showcase for the absolute breadth of music that can be created with just three instruments. There’s the deeply-feeling “You Already Did” and “Micha,” both of which are palpable with remorse and pain, all without saying a word. While later Russian Circle albums may be tighter, darker, and more cinematic, there’s something to be said for the staggering range of both emotion and tonality on display in the 44 minutes of Enter.

Earth - The Bees Made Honey In The Lion’s Skull (2008)

Yet another half-step away from post-rock, just in the opposite direction, Earth are the all-important progenitors of drone as we know it. Characterized by spaced-out repetitive riffs that roll on like long arid stretches of desert, drone is a genre all about soundtracking a time and place that exists only in your mind. The albums work like witchcraft, slowly casting a spell on the listener’s mind until it’s transported to another world far away from this one. Through this slowly-unfolding transportive property, these bands are able to unwind gorgeous riffs that establish a sense of time and place unlike any other genre.

The Bees Made Honey In The Lion’s Skull is a mythical album. Aside from its biblical title and gorgeous leather-bound vinyl, the songs here capture Earth at the absolute peak of the band’s mid-2000’s era. Unlike their early trailblazing half-hour dissonant recordings or their more recent vocal pivot, The Bees Made Honey offers (relatively) punctual tracks that swirl and cascade around the listener with unparalleled divinity. Songs like “Miami Morning Comedown II” shimmer with opulent mid-morning light while tracks like “Hung From The Moon” feel more like a desert at twilight; blue and expansive but still hot enough for heat haze to be prevalent. The entire album is like a beautiful mirage, it almost seems too good to be true, but then you reach the end and realize you’ve made it out of the desert. 

Mogwai - Mr. Beast (2006)

Mogwai’s discography is immaculate. While Young Team introduced Mogwai to the world and Come On, Die Young has a special place in my heart (literally the first thing ever posted to this site, which I do not recommend you read) I’d argue Mr. Beast is also one of the best entry points into the band’s world. Their work ranges from spacy love songs, glistening immaculate creations, pensive piano-led remixes, and glitchy electronic diversions, but Mr. Beast is a personal favorite merely because it’s wall-to-wall riffs. While Mogwai are no strangers to The Riff (just listen to “My Father My King” or “Xmas Steps”), the band’s fifth album is arguably the most consistently heavy thing that they have ever created. 

“Auto Rock” kicks things off with a piano melody that gradually mounts along with electronic elements, pounding drums, and buzzing guitar that grows into a rhythmic tribal beat that abducts you into the world of the record. “Glasgow Mega-Snake” turns the metal side of Mogwai up to ten as multiple distorted guitars and bass coalesce into one fast-paced riff that pushes the listener forward like a violent current. Other highlights include the soft and electronic “Acid Food,” the anthemic “ Travel is Dangerous,” the riff-bearing “We’re No Here,” or the penultimate credit roll of “I Chose Horses.” 

One of the things that makes Mr. Beast a fantastic entry point to post-rock is that it’s very atypical of the genre. Lots of the songs here have vocals of some sort, and the average song length is about four minutes. It’s also an extremely-varied album with different sounds and approaches that always keeps you wondering what’s next. Truly one of the band’s many masterworks. 

Slint - Spiderland (1991)

Often cited as the record that invented the post-rock genre, Slint’s Spiderland is a masterpiece. If it wasn’t evident by the cover, this is an album that was created by a bunch of teenagers. Spiderland sold fewer than 5,000 copies, and the band broke up before the record could even be considered a cult hit… but cult status it soon achieved, eventually paving the way for the entire post-rock genre in earnest.

While not as purely instrumental as some of the other records on this list, Spiderland solidified the dark, pensive moodiness that became a standard of the genre. It crystalized the dynamic builds and ever-shifting cinematic landscapes that have become a staple of post-rock. Spiderland is flat-out one of the most influential albums in all of rock music. These guys may not be The Beatles, but in the space of 40 minutes they crafted a world so dense and lived-in that we still have groups exploring its corners nearly three decades later. 

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There you have it folks,  the single best crash course for a genre I could ever create. If you’re listening to these albums and find yourself hungry for more, I wholeheartedly recommend exploring each of these artist’s discographies because they’re all rich and rewarding in their own way. Beyond that, there are numerous other legendary post-rock bands I didn’t even get into here like Caspian, God Is An Astronaut, Mono, and more. If you’d like, all nine of the albums on this list have been placed into a playlist here for easy consumption. Thank you for reading along about this genre that has meant so much to me over the last decade. I can only hope that you’ll find as much solace and beauty in these albums as I have over the years.

Celebrating One Decade Of Last.fm

As of today, my last.fm account is ten years old. I would never have guessed that an offhand suggestion from one of my high school classmates would shape my musical history so radically.

I’m not one of the people who are obsessed with getting the most plays, but what I am obsessed with is accuracy. This website has been an amazing tool to crystalize my listening habits and musical discoveries. The ability to look back at ten years of my music habits and see exactly what I was listening to on a specific day is still kind of mind-blowing to me.

This account begins with my last year of high school, stretches through college, and now four years of “adult” life. I can look back at this and see distinct phases, moods, and discoveries I’ve made, and as a music nerd, that is absolutely invaluable.

There’s no real point to this post other than to celebrate ten years of being an unabashed music dork. Last.fm has forever changed the way I interact with music, and I love it for that.

On Running Times: The Importance of Album Length

Perhaps unsurprisingly, one of my favorite parts of meeting new people is learning what kind of music they’re into. Usually, I’ll wait for it to come up in conversation naturally (so as not to overwhelm them with the firehose-like pressure of my own nerdiness), but it’s still something I look forward to whenever I’m getting to know someone. Not only is music one of the few things I feel confident in talking about endlessly, but it’s also a fantastic way to learn about who someone is as a person. Sometimes you meet someone who isn’t “into music,” and it’s fun because you get to slowly immerse them in your favorite records and reveal a part of yourself to them. Sometimes you meet someone for the first time and you both share a love for so many bands that it’s almost eerie. Those latter cases are fun just because you just get to geek out about cringy high school music that was somehow omnipresent enough for both parties to have separate nostalgia for it. 

Those weird cases of shared musical backgrounds are so rewarding because it feels like some cosmic affirmation of my (mostly questionable) high school music choices. I made a friend like this in early 2019 who shared a nearly-identical background with me of pop-punk, hardcore, and emo. We were kind of at different points in that triangle of genres, but he got me deeper into pop-punk, I got him deeper into emo, and it was a rewarding friendship from that perspective. 

At some point after a few weeks of knowing each other, my friend asked me what my favorite album of 2018 was, and I started going on about Fiddlehead’s Springtime and Blind. I talked about the hard-hitting Title Fight-esque delivery, the guilt-ridden emotional lyricism, and the well-placed world-building interludes. I tied a bow on (what I thought was) a compelling argument in favor of the record by emphasizing its running time of just 24 minutes. My friend paused for a second, thought to himself, then replied with “man, you really love talking about album lengths.” I was taken aback. 

Here I thought I’d made a passionate argument for this album that I adored, and my friend just pointed out how often I bring up running times. But then I thought about it, and he was right. I realized over the course of knowing each other for just a few weeks I’d used that as a selling point in favor of an album more than once. More than that, it also shocked me that the length of an album wasn’t something he particularly cared about. 

Earlier this year, I was listening to the new Beach Bunny record and (half) jokingly tweeted that “any LP that's less than 26 minutes is an automatic 9/10 in my mind.” That’s obviously a slight exaggeration, but I do think that shorter albums are generally better and harder to pull off than longer ones. While I realize the running time of a record may seem like an esoteric piece of trivia, I believe it’s actually a vital component of what makes an album good. Sure, I love long-winded double albums, 20-minute songs, and concept albums as much as the next guy, but by and large most of my favorite records, especially recently, are ones that tend to be leaner and more economical with their time. Hell, my favorite album of last year was a 6-track EP, so this post is a long time coming. Truthfully I think shorter records are harder to make and therefore are not the norm. I also think they can be stronger, more creative, and more impactful than a “traditional”-length album for many reasons.

In my mind, an album’s running time is as essential as it’s tracklist or sequencing. Many artists don’t take those things into consideration, but the ones that do often end up crafting a more compelling piece of art. The new Ratboys album is a perfect example of a masterfully-sequenced record; each side opens with a fast-paced single, side one closes with a banger, and the back half of the album works up to a beautifully meditative title track made all the more poignant by the flow of the songs that come before it. Part of what makes Printer’s Devil great is, yes, the songs themselves, but also how the band decided to order those songs and walk the listener through them. You could take those same 11 tracks, rearrange them, and the album would be flat-out worse. 

When an artist releases an album, generally, it has a point. The musician sets out to capture a feeling, depict a time in their life, or make a statement on something in the world. If you can get your point across in less time, that only makes your message all the more compelling. One of the first times I consciously began to think about album running times was when Japanese Breakfast released Psychompmp back in 2016. Admittedly enamored with the (now) infamous long-form indieheads shitpost about the album, I went into the record with almost-non-existent expectations and came out the other side 25-minutes later blown away. 

Essentially a concept album about her mother’s death, Michelle Zauner set out to capture her grief, experiences, and feelings that surrounded this major event in her life. The album opens poppy enough with the mystifying “In Heaven,” the soaring “Rugged Country,” and the immensely danceable “Everybody Wants to Love You.” Things take a turn halfway through where the titular “Psychopomp” stops the listener in their tracks with a spacy instrumental containing a voicemail of Michelle’s mom. From there, “Jane Cum” bowls the listener over with a wordless explosion of grief, pain, and sharp feelings. Not only is “Jane Cum” one of the most authentic expressions of loss ever captured in music, but it’s made stronger thanks to the songs that surround it. The record is so well-paced, and it’s conscious build-up to that pivotal moment of loss makes the feelings Michelle’s depicting all the more raw and impactful. After that heaviness “Heft,” “Moon on the Bath,” and “Triple 7” act as a sort of post-script to death that sends the listener off on a (slightly) more hopeful note, though not by much. The fact that Michelle was able to fit all of those feelings into an album that’s shorter than most episodes of TV is nothing short of spectacular.

One of the reasons I love music is because it’s the only medium with the ability to make such a compelling depiction in such a short amount of time. TV shows and movies are great, but at best they take 2 hours to create a similar effect. I suppose you could make the argument that shorter-form art house movies broach a similar level of impact, but even then the two mediums don’t exist in the same quantities. There’s a more compelling narrative in the four and a half minutes of “Born to Run” than there was in whatever new teen drama Netflix shat out this weekend. There’s no comparison.

This feels like a good place to say that I’m not against long albums, one of my favorite records of all time is The Monitor by Titus Andronicus; a 65-minute punk epic that’s loaded with 8-minute songs and capped off by a blistering 14-minute coda. The same thing goes for Sufjan’s Michigan, and Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp A Butterfly, sure I’m cherry-picking some of the greatest albums of all time, but they’re all examples of artists using their hour-plus running times to craft a compelling story that could not have been told any other way. Those records are still economical in that sense, it’s just that they take a little bit longer to arrive at their final conclusion.

On the opposite end of the cultural spectrum, you have records like Migos’ Culture II, which is admittedly a bloated 24-track 2-hour mess, but it’s a bloated mess I don’t have a problem with because it’s just a glorified playlist that you put on while doing anything else. Drake literally did this when he released More Life, a mixtape that he marketed as a “playlist.” That’s code for “don’t think about this too much and just give me 22 streams.” I’ll admit I like More Life alright, but then you see the same thing happening on Scorpion, which is 90 minutes of some of the blandest, most mind-numbing, lobotomy-inducing hip-hop that I’ve ever heard in one place. That album just feels like Drake gaming the streaming system to get as many plays as possible while offering nothing of artistic substance. 

Another thing worth bringing up here is the history of the physical album. The fact that records used to be based solely on two 23-minute sides of a vinyl record meant that 40-ish minutes became the default. Then once CDs became prominent enough, their 80-minute capacity meant that hour-length albums could become the norm. Once iTunes, Pandora, and digital music paved the way for streaming services an album could be literally anything. Artists are no longer restricted by the realities of a physical format, and that’s a good thing.

I know there are plenty of people out there who just listen to an album, click the “heart” button on their favorite songs, and then craft their daily music experience around a playlist of those cherry-picked favorites. That’s fine, but I believe that the album format is still a viable medium and an essential piece of the music creation process. I feel that “The Album” is the barometer under which all music should be measured. You can have a couple of great tracks, but if the rest of the songs surrounding it don’t measure up, then you don’t have a great album. That’s part of the problem with albums like Scorpion where you have a few objectively fire songs like “Nonstop” and “Nice For What” surrounded by utter nonsense like “Ratchet Happy Birthday.” Truth be told, I can’t even name any of the other “bad” songs on that album because there’s so much fat that record that it all blurs into one incoherent mess of sleepy pop-rap. It makes me like the entire thing less, and therein lies the problem. 

Meanwhile, take a look a the new Beach Bunny album; a 9 track 25-minute debut that ranges from catchy sing-along love songs, confessional tales of heartbreak, and masterful builds of unrequited love. Truth be told, Honeymoon is not really making any grand artistic statement on love and relationships, but it set out to offer a collection of saccharin poppy love songs, and it did just that. It didn’t need an hour, it didn’t need interludes, it’s just nine tight tracks of well-written indie-pop and that alone elevates it above other albums of its ilk.

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The minute an album has worn on long enough for you to check the tracklist to see how much is left, then the artist has failed. Every preceding song may be great, but the longer an album is, the more chances there are for lulls like that. The shorter a record is, the less room there is for error.

I’m not saying artists should limit themselves; musicians should take as much time as they need to craft their work and get their point across, it’s just that the less time they manage to do it in, the more impactful the message feels. Much like you’re probably reading this, 1900 words deep and wondering when it will end. 

The “album” is a fluid concept in 2020, more fluid than it’s ever been in fact. There are artists breaking barriers every day, and album length is only one small piece of that. It just feels notable to me when an artist manages to create something so compelling and get it across in such a short amount of time. After all, if you love it and want more, you can always just start it all over again from the top.

Swim Into The Soup's Ultimate Soup Ranking

In one month Swim Into The Sound will celebrate its fifth anniversary, and it honestly feels like it’s time for a refresh. Like, sure, music is cool, but I think that staying flexible and true to myself is more important than anything. With that in mind, I’m excited to announce that I’m going to pivot this site to reflect my real passion: soup.

That’s right folks, soup. I love soup. It’s the most versatile food. It comes in so many different flavors and consistencies, there’s honestly something for everyone. As our inaugural piece of soup-related content, I’m proud to present Swim Into The Soup’s Ultimate Soup Ranking: the definitive and inarguable list of the best soups ordered from worst to best. I hope you enjoy this innovative new content and future direction of the site. I appreciate your understanding and continued support.  

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5 | Cream of Mushroom Soup

Look, I don’t really mind the taste of mushroom, but it’s the consistency of the vegetable that I can’t stand. If I’m being objective, I recognize that Cream of Mushroom Soup isn’t the worst, it’s just not for me. 

4 | Clam Chowder

I know what you’re thinking ‘Taylor, chowder isn’t a soup!’ well, that’s where you’re wrong, bucko. Typically I’m not a big fan of seafood, but as someone who grew up close to the coast for their entire childhood, I have a soft spot in my heart for a good, chunky Clam Chowder.

3 | Chicken Noodle Soup

Chicken Noodle Soup is a true OG in the soup game. It’s an undeniable classic and for a good reason. Beloved by children, the elderly, and sick people alike, there’s absolutely no argument you can make against Chicken Noodle Soup without looking like a heartless lunatic. Truly a cornerstone of the Soup World.

2 | Chicken Tortilla Soup

Sometimes you’re looking for a bit more zest, and that’s precisely where Chicken Tortilla Soup comes in. There are few things more satisfying than a piping hot bowl of Chicken Tortilla Soup with the perfect balance of beans, meat, and soup topped off with a pinch of shredded cheese and an avocado slice. Chicken Tortilla is admittedly a bit more exotic (and thus may not be for everyone), but at the end of the day, it’s hard to deny.

1 | Tomato Soup

Simple, hearty, tasty, and classic. Tomato Soup is THAT soup. It has range; it can be made perfectly light and soupy or thick as a bisque. It has versatility; you can pair it with a salad, naan, or the classic saltine, the possibilities are literally endless. And don’t even get me started about dipping a slice of grilled cheese in it. That’s what heaven is. When it all comes together, tomato soup is a hearty, humble, and flexible soup that has worked hard to earn its spot as the king of soup.