Relax, Alexander - An Alexander Hamilton Music Mix (Or, He Didn’t Know They Were Gay Anthems)
Pining the loss of his secret lover John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton must be strong. His heart will, just like Celine promised, go on. But between the violent ideological clashes with Jefferson and his sycophantic cronies, the never-ending vitriol from that crusty-eyed mouth breather Adams, and the unremitting eyesex from the dangerously insinuating and palpably lascivious Burr, Hamilton needs a break once in a while. He shuts the door to his office and closes the blinds on the windows. He adjusts his wig and turns on the music. Quiet at first, and then a little louder. He is a goddamned superstar.
The Great Little Madison - A James Madison Music Mix (Or, He Likes To Pretend Every Single Love Song is About Dolly; Honestly, Who Wouldn’t?)
James Madison is in love.
For a good while he was everyone’s sad and lonely bachelor friend until the woman of his dreams swept him off his feet and made him feel like a King—oops, I mean democratically-elected President. Regardless, Little Jemmy is head-over-heels for his new woman and the shy statesman can think of no finer way to express his devotion than through the smoothest, cheesiest most easy-listeningest melodies the world has to offer.
Men Are Indubitably Born Monkeys - A Theodosia Burr Music Mix (Or, This Mix Was Difficult To Narrow Down Because There Are An Unbelievable Amount of Talented Female Singers And That Is The Whole Point)
If there is one thing Theodosia Burr’s father taught her, it’s that women and men are equals. The soul is sexless, the spirit is neither male nor female, love equals intellect, and the rest is just packaging. She’s a smart girl, she gets it—it would only stand to reason that talent crosses gender boundaries as well. There is nothing more lovely than a female singer who can put a man to shame with her own vocals.
Songs To Bring Home To Your Mother - A Maximilien Robespierre Music Mix (Or, This Decade Was Great Until The Seemingly Inevitable Bloodshed Began)
Maxime doesn’t quiet realize that half the songs on his Virtuous Playlist for Virtuous Times allude to some very heavy stuff. It starts out innocent enough, but something goes horribly wrong. As his playlist progresses, the theme becomes more apparent. He didn’t write the songs on this playlist, he didn’t infuse them with ominous apprehensions of war and terror. He just thinks they sound pretty. But the times, they are a-changin’.
Obnoxious and Disliked? - A John Adams Music Mix (Or, Paranoid, Convinced Everyone Hates Him, and Writes Angry Things In His Diary—But Not A 15 Year Old Metalhead)
What’s loud and in-your-face, rather sweaty, slightly violent and not afraid to speak it’s mind? Says weird things to get people riled up, and is unafraid to play devil’s advocate? Forms a loyal group of followers even after one of their own abandons them to start a new group? That’s right, it’s Metallica—and Dave Mustaine. But also John Adams and his Federalists—not the turncoat Scotch Bastard who will remain nameless.
Either way, the Atlas of Independence is massively pissed off.
Even tho we never seem to talk anymore, have a Burr pin-up
i am going to choke and die and this will be the image that is up on my screen when the paramedics come and find me
Pleasure and Pain…But Mostly Pain - A Marquis de Sade Music Mix (Or, Reading Sade is Like Getting A Tattoo: Traumatic and Permanent. Like These Songs.)
Being locked up for the majority of your life gives you quite a warped view of human nature. Enter Donatien Alphonse François, the Marquis of Sade—the founding father of sadism. Human accountability goes out the window when you realize that we’re all violent perverts out for one thing: self gratification. The Enlightenment is a lie, and Freedom an illusion. Embrace it. And what’s more pleasurably sadistic than listening to badly written songs about sex?
Music For the Thinking Man - A Thomas Jefferson Music Mix (Or, Living On the Lighted Mountain Top Approaches the Unreal for Those Who Think and Feel, In Touch With Some Reality Beyond the Gilded Anas)
Thomas Jefferson’s burden is a heavy one. Author of the Declaration of Independence, father of American classical liberalism, architect of his own political party as well as third president? These accomplishments would make lesser men tremble. But not Thomas. He is a renaissance man. He really can do it all. He likes to think of himself as a 35 minute progressive rock song: lots of intricate nonsense that still manages to produce a coherent, timeless melody.
Define ‘Proteus’ - An Aaron Burr Music Mix (Or, Retreating Inward and Self-Destructing Via Your Own Disdain for Mainstream Politics)
This is the Age of Enlightenment, thinks Aaron. Like, get with it. Federalist? Republican? What is the point of slapping a label on everything? We’re all immoral, self-centered humans. There is no God, there is no Heaven or Hell, and ideologues are SO passé—and too mainstream. He’d tell you what political party he belongs to, but it’s super progressive and kind of underground. You’ve probably never heard of it.
Hunky, Chunky and Feelin’ Funky - A Benjamin Franklin Music Mix (Or, This Is The Music That The Universe Plays Whenever Benjamin Franklin Does Anything Ever)
Out for his daily stroll, Ben Franklin is feeling very fly. Independence has just been declared and and America is finally free and funky fresh. The cool cats and hot honeys are jiving to the sound of liberty. Old Benji can feel the beat in his soul as the white-hot summer sets in, and he knows exactly what this momentous occasion calls for: music. But not just any music. It calls for the most happening music in the history of sound—the only music Franklin knows.
Georges’ Road Trip - A Georges Danton Music Mix (Or, There is No Logical Reason Why Cheesy 80s Hair Metal Should Remind Me This Strongly of Georges Danton)
Disillusioned and disenchanted with the Revolution and the incessant bickering between he and Robespierre, revolutionary Georges Danton makes an executive decision to take a mind-clearing road trip into the French countryside. Diligently he searches for music that will soothe his violent firebrand heart. There is only one type of music that speaks him at a cellular level. That speaks to his very soul.
It is very kind indeed to write me so often. Your last is from
Petersburgh. ‘Like gods,’ forsooth; why, you travel like—; that,
however, was a very pretty allusion. I have repeated it a dozen times and more. Your other letters also contain now and then a spark of Promethean fire: a spark, mind ye; don’t be vain.