Think back to the feeling of the first day of school: the wind against your childhood window pane, a warm and gentle hand nudging you awake. You smell butter and toast, and hear your parents' coffee maker sputtering alive. The cocoon of blankets comes off and the world is a little colder for a few seconds. But once you put your feet on the floor and warm up to the world, all at once you're ready to see, to learn.
I'm experiencing autumn for the first time in all it's sweetness; the world is changing in hues of amber and maroon right before my eyes, not through a TV screen. I'm on the other side of the country, and my life has never been more different than it is now. It is exciting and frightening all at the same time, just as I remember feeling at the start of each school year.
As someone who grew up in Los Angeles, and lived on the beaches of Santa Barbara for college, I knew little more about autumn than the smell of cinnamon and pumpkin spice. In California, leaves do not fall from palm trees and the sun only hides for so long. I didn't know what true change in nature meant or how this change has enough power to create newness in our own lives.
I am happy to present the chilled-out, introspective version of roséwave for morning walks and midday reflections. These are the songs that greet falling leaves with open arms, that capture the sweet romance we have with the world when it feels fresh to us all over again; heard in the crisp jangle of The Shins' melancholia, SZA's letter to her autumn love and Nick Drake's classic meditations on promise. They are a splash of brandy in a nighttime cup of tea or a bottle of red wine that's a little too sweet.
Change is difficult, so let music be our comfort and guide toward the promise of a new season.