anti-folk
Lo-fi rebellion for when your legs need honesty
By Rob Gordon
Closing up the store, last song playing through the speakers, no customers left to judge my choices - that's when I'd throw on something anti-folk. Jeffrey Lewis, early Beck, something recorded in someone's kitchen with a four-track and zero fucks to give. And I realized: this is exactly what the middle miles of a run feel like. No one's watching. The performance part is over. It's just you and the pavement and the truth.
Anti-folk works for running because it refuses to lie to you. It's not going to pump you up with overproduced drums and motivational bullshit. Beck's "Loser" isn't trying to make you feel like a champion - and that's precisely why it works when you're grinding through mile seven and your legs are asking legitimate questions about your life choices. The tempo's there, usually hovering in that perfect 140-160 BPM zone, but it arrives with actual human imperfection. A guitar that's slightly out of tune. Vocals mixed too loud. Lyrics about failure and dive bars and the mundane horror of existence.
I keep coming back to these playlists - six of them now in the anti-folk category, from "DIVE BAR BATHROOM" to "PISSEDOFFEDNESS" - because they match what running actually feels like. Not the Instagram version. The real thing. Where you're negotiating with yourself, where easy pace isn't easy, where you're equal parts determined and wondering why you do this at all.
Rickshaw Billie's Burger Patrol shows up in two of these playlists, and if you know, you know. If you don't, you're about to discover why lo-fi aesthetics and forward momentum are cosmically linked. This is music made by people who couldn't afford studio time, playing for runners who don't trust anything too polished. Three chords, a drum machine someone found at a yard sale, and more truth than a hundred focus-grouped pop songs.
The anti-folk category isn't about getting hyped. It's about getting honest. And sometimes honest is exactly what gets you through.
Frequently Asked Questions
What pace does anti-folk work best for?
Easy to moderate pace, roughly 8:30-10:00 minute miles, is where anti-folk absolutely shines. This isn't music that's going to drive you through speed intervals - Beck's deadpan delivery isn't built for that. But for those runs where you're just putting in miles, where you need something in your ears that matches the existential nature of just... running? Perfect. The tempos usually sit around 140-160 BPM, which naturally syncs with a conversational pace. If you're pushing hard, this stuff will actually slow you down. Which might be exactly what you need.
Is anti-folk too slow for running?
Look, if you think tempo equals quality, you've missed the entire point of music. Anti-folk isn't slow - it's deliberate. Most tracks in this category hit that 140-160 BPM sweet spot, which is faster than you think when it's not buried under layers of production. The Rickshaw Billie's Burger Patrol stuff that shows up in these playlists has plenty of momentum. It's just momentum with self-awareness. If you need every song to sound like a Mountain Dew commercial, stick to EDM. But if you want actual rhythm that trusts your intelligence, anti-folk delivers.
Where should I start with anti-folk running playlists?
Start with Beck. He's in three of the six playlists for a reason - 'Loser,' 'Devil's Haircut,' stuff from Odelay and Mellow Gold. That's your entry point. Then check out the playlist titled 'PISSEDOFFEDNESS' because anyone who titles a running playlist that understands what the medium is actually for. From there, dive into 'DIVE BAR BATHROOM' - fourteen tracks of exactly what you need when you're running alone at dawn and don't want to be lied to. The beauty of this category is there's no wrong door. Six playlists, all different moods, all the same core honesty.
Can I run intervals to anti-folk?
Absolutely not. Well, you can, but why would you? Anti-folk is built for sustainability, not explosive effort. This is music for long runs, recovery runs, easy days when you're building base. The entire aesthetic fights against the kind of adrenaline spike you need for intervals. That's not a weakness - that's the point. If you're doing speed work, go find some punk or metal. But the day after that speed work, when your legs are trashed and you need to get in five easy miles? That's when you throw on the 'MIXTAPE 1' playlist and let Beck remind you that it's okay to feel like a loser sometimes.
What makes anti-folk different from regular folk for running?
Regular folk wants you to feel peaceful and connected to nature. Anti-folk wants you to acknowledge that nature is indifferent and your knees hurt. It's the difference between a James Taylor song and early Beck - one's trying to soothe you, the other's trying to tell you the truth. For running, that distinction matters. Anti-folk has the acoustic elements and human-scale production of folk, but with urban anxiety and legitimate skepticism. It's folk-punk's weird younger sibling. The tempos work, the energy's there, but there's no pretense. You're not running through a meadow in these playlists. You're running through Chicago at 6 AM questioning everything, and the music gets it.