PANIC

What came first - the panic or the playlist that captures it? That moment when the alarm goes off and you're already behind, when your brain's racing before your feet hit the floor, when the only choice is to run straight into the chaos instead of away from it. That's this playlist. Fifteen tracks of space rock, neo-psychedelic noise, shoegaze urgency, and garage rock that sounds like waking up already anxious.

I'm not a morning person. Let me tell you, nobody who listens to this much post-punk is a morning person. But there's something about these tracks - AK/DK, Shelf Lives, donny., bands you've probably never heard of unless you spend too much time in basements or record store import bins - that captures that specific alarm-clock dread. Not in a depressing way. In a "the world's on fire so let's move" way.

Top 5 reasons panic works better than coffee for a morning run:

1. "malaysia." opens with that disorienting synth wash - you're not awake yet, you're just moving. Your body's running before your brain catches up. That's the only way the first mile works.

2. By "Square Route" and "A Million Bots," the noise starts organizing itself into rhythm. Your heart rate's up. You're committing to the panic instead of fighting it. There's freedom in that surrender.

3. "Strange Loop" through "Skirts & Salads" - this is where the playlist gets smart. Repetitive motorik beats, krautrock-inspired forward motion. You're not thinking anymore, you're locked in. Dick would know every influence here - Can, Neu!, the whole Düsseldorf lineage - but what matters is how it hypnotizes you into running.

4. "Psycho" hits at the exact moment you'd normally talk yourself into stopping. Instead, the garage rock chaos kicks you forward. Sometimes you need music that's messier than your thoughts.

5. The final stretch - "You Can't Wallow With Us" through "Answer to Yourself" - is all resolution without comfort. You're not calm, you're just through it. The panic became the fuel. That's the lesson.

Here's the thing about running to space rock and neo-psychedelic noise: it matches the internal state better than some manufactured workout playlist. You're not pumped up on fake energy. You're running because your brain's already moving too fast, because sitting still feels worse than the pavement, because the only way through panic is straight ahead.

I've made this mistake before - trying to run to calm music, trying to soothe myself into movement. It never works. What came first, the anxiety or the need to outrun it? Doesn't matter. By the time "Where Did I Go?" hits at track six, you're not asking that question anymore. You're just running.

The sequencing here is perfect for that first-mile panic, that moment when your body's screaming at you to stop and your brain's already catastrophizing the entire day. "Return to Zero" at track nine is the turning point - the chaos peaks, then starts organizing itself into something like purpose. Not calm. Purpose.

Barry would argue this is too obscure, too noisy, too weird for a running playlist. That's how I know it works. The obvious choices - the stadium rock, the pop hooks, the motivational garbage - don't capture what it actually feels like to run when you're already overwhelmed. This does.

"Nobody Shouts" near the end is the perfect title for what's happening. You're not victorious, you're not zen, you're just done panicking. The alarm went off. You ran. The world's still chaos but you moved through it. "Answer to Yourself" closes it out with that exact energy - no resolution, just forward motion.

This is a playlist for weekend warriors who don't have time for running to be some spiritual practice. You've got work, chaos, a day that's already moving too fast before you lace up. The panic's already there. Might as well use it.