For me, this is the most peaceful piece of music I've ever heard. It exists outside of time somehow. When I need to disappear from everything, when the world is too loud and too much, this is where I go. I can't explain what it does to me. It just works.

I first learned about this from V for Vendetta (2005), one of my ever favorite films, but didn't pay attention then. I only truly discovered it during the 2022 Russian invasion of Ukraine. The irony wasn't lost on me. It affects me deeply and gives me vibes from Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors. I only play it on special occasions due to its effect on me.

The follow-up to Drinking Songs, and somehow even more desolate. Matt has this ability to stretch time, to make three minutes feel like thirty in the best possible way. Each song is a meditation on loss. The guitar work is sparse but every note carries weight. #Matt Elliot

My Matt Elliott story is one of the most personal musical journeys I've had. There's something about his voice that sounds like it's coming from the bottom of a well, reaching up. Drinking Songs is devastatingly beautiful. It's slow, deliberate, and feels like grief made audible. I don't listen to it often because it demands too much, but when I do, I give it everything. #Matt Elliot

His posthumous album, finished by his son. 'Happens to the Heart' and 'The Goal' are Leonard saying goodbye while still asking questions. It feels like sitting with someone who knows they're leaving but has made peace with it. There's no despair here, just a kind of clear-eyed acceptance.

My ever favorite Cohen album. I discovered him through 'Sing Another Song, Boys' while studying biochemistry in high school. I didn't like it initially but I couldn't stop listening. To this day, chemical formulas intrude into my head whenever I play it. The song is a strange companion, but a faithful one. 'Avalanche' opens the record like a warning.

Kabyle music that transcends its origins. This song carries the weight of Berber identity, of a culture that refuses to disappear. It's nostalgic music, the kind that affects my mood profoundly. I tend to avoid it because of how much it stirs, but sometimes you need to be stirred.

Fairuz is the voice of Lebanon, but really she belongs to everyone who has ever felt longing. Her music carries the weight of history, of displacement, of home as an idea more than a place. I grew up hearing her voice in the background of everything. Now I listen deliberately, and I understand why.

Elliott's music feels like confessions whispered to no one in particular. He had this way of making devastation sound gentle. Between the Bars is maybe the most intimate song about self-destruction ever written. I found him through Either/Or and XO, and his work has become essential listening for those days when you need someone to understand without explaining.

Neofolk that exists in its own universe. Death in June creates these soundscapes that feel like walking through ruins at dusk. It's uncomfortable music in a way that makes you pay attention. I return to it when I want to feel something different from what the day has given me.

The first movement is what everyone knows, that slow, contemplative opening. But the whole piece is a journey. Beethoven wrote this while going deaf, knowing he was losing the thing that mattered most. You can hear that in the music, a kind of beautiful resignation mixed with rage in the final movement. Also essential: Für Elise and Symphony No. 9.

The most recognizable piece of organ music ever written, and yet it never loses its power. Those opening notes still make me stop whatever I'm doing. Bach understood architecture in sound. This piece builds and releases tension like a Gothic cathedral made audible. I also keep returning to the Air on the G String and Brandenburg Concerto No. 3.

Glenn Gould's interpretation is the one I grew up with. There's a precision here that somehow doesn't feel cold. Each variation is its own world. I listen to this when I need to think clearly, when the noise of everything else is too much. Bach provides structure when chaos feels overwhelming.

Prince Igor played automatically on my playlist, I didn't notice it. Rana from work noticed it though, and I listened to it later carefully.

Nostalgic music that extremely affects my mood. I tend to avoid this genre, but Ahmed Mounib's voice is hard to resist. Ya Waadi Aal Ayame and Dayret El Rehla take me somewhere I'm not sure I want to go, but I go anyway. There's a sweetness in Egyptian music that cuts deeper than sadness.