Those who know me know this: I like to party. When I say "party," I don't mean dress up in fancy pants and hit the clubs, or turn my apartment into Animal House or really anything involving more than like 10 people. (I'm surprisingly misanthropic/agoraphobic for someone who "like[s] to party.") What I mean is that on, say, the Fourth of July, or the Super Bowl, or during the holidays, or really just on any given Saturday, you're likely to find me smoking 20 pounds of pork butt and mixing up habanero margaritas for a few close friends, or hosting a chili cook-off, or an exotic meat BBQ -- what I mean is, I take this stuff seriously.
Now, unfortunately I can't share the slow-cooked meat or diabolically potent cocktails. What I can share, however, is maybe just as important: the inspired, random, absurd, jovial playlist that tends to result from a dozen half-drunk people picking music over the course of such an event. The choosing of these songs is a solemn process. Inevitably it involves someone playing DJ for a few tracks, then being replaced in a fit of incredulous braggadocio by the next DJ, who promises to pick waaayy better music. As evidenced by this playlist, such promises are extraneous -- all the music is exceedingly awesome, spanning a delectable number of genres and eras, inevitably taking a few kitschy detours, and ultimately resulting in a fitting document of whatever night we may or may not remember. Listening to it now, I'm tempted to say this is the last party playlist you'll ever need -- it's that badass. The problem with that, though, is that every party needs its own playlist, so maybe just start with this one and when the mood (or the booze) strikes you, take matters into your own hands.