Avalon
Roxy Music
One song per day.
A year you can cue.
A quiet ritual for the songs that scored your year. Log the one that found you today. Add a mood, a sentence, a memory if you’d like.
Follow a few friends and see one song from each, once a day — a feed that fits in a coffee break, not your evening.
Twelve months later, you have a record — track-by-track — of the year you actually lived.
No streaks to perform for, no leaderboards, no audience. Just the small, daily question: what did you listen to today?
Search Apple Music, Spotify, or type a title yourself. The album art slides into place. Ten seconds, then it’s sealed for the day.
A mood, a single line, a memory — or none of those. The point is the song; everything else is a footnote you may or may not leave for future you.
Open the calendar in November and there’s the song you played all of February. Each day is a tile. Each tile is a tiny door back to where you were.
“and then you can cue it.”
A small flame in the corner. The app never punishes you for missing a day — it just notes the days you showed up.
A circle for calm, a half-moon for wistful, a square for sharp, a star for bright, a diamond for restless. Tap one. Move on.
On the first of the month, the past thirty days arrange themselves: most-played, mood ribbon, the one entry you wrote a paragraph about.
The whole year on one page, rendered as a quilt of album-art colors. Tap a tile to land back inside that day.
Connect either catalog (or both). Type a fragment, get the right song with cover art and credits. Or type a title yourself, and a generative gradient stands in.
Follow a few people. See the one song each of them logged today — no infinite scroll, no algorithm, no late-night doom-feed. The feed ends when the day’s entries run out.
A song will flatten a year into one feeling. Cue is for the days when you want to remember which song, and which feeling.
— from the colophon, vol. i