This was the first year where I truly felt I began to maximize my potential as a human being, but that doesn't mean I was immune to anguish or being a total bonehead. If anything, I probably put myself in more of those situations than ever before.
This year, I regret playing Billy Idol's "Eyes Without a Face" six times in a row on a jukebox, even though it's one of the best songs ever. I regret writing that any band sounds like Ariel Pink, when it's just lazy shorthand for describing someone's music as "kinda weird." I regret not alerting anyone that Math the Band had to reschedule the show that I previewed in the paper. I regret that not every concert this year could be Jeff Mangum filling the Moore Theater with tears, Annie Clark crowd-surfing while the sun set on Coachella, or Frank Ocean captivating a sold-out Showbox at the Market with his sheepish charisma.