As “Portlandia” begins its final season on IFC, we asked comedian, actress, rockstar, author, and Coolest Person Alive candidate Carrie Brownstein an eternal question: What have you been listening to lately? Here’s what she had to say...

Miguel: “Told You So”

I’ve always been a fan of Miguel. I remember listening to Kaleidoscope Dream in a hotel room in New York; there’s this real sexy, urbane quality to that album. His next record, Wildheart, has a real lo-fi sultriness—there’s this weird disparity between those two things, because people think of sultry as being writ-large, with this polished quality, but when you give it this bedroom-recording quality, it adds a sensitivity and a vulnerability that Miguel just has in spades. I love the way he spells out the titles of his songs in lowercase, too. He has a way of being sweetly diminutive and then larger than life.

“Told You So,” from his new album, War & Leisure, really grabbed me right away. I first heard it when I was in my bedroom getting ready to go out, which is really important music listening for me. It always feels like a motivational soundtrack and returns me to my teenage self: creating an imagined narrative that usually never comes to fruition. I always think the getting-ready part somehow supersedes the experience itself. It’s better than the party. Even when I’m alone, when I’m still in the realm of fantasy of what the night could be, it’s always better than what the night is. And I’m definitely just talking about going out to very pedestrian events—it’s not like I’m going out to some wild dance party. But music has always accompanied those moments of trying on different clothes, looking at myself in front of the mirror, trying to do something even remotely reasonable with makeup—it always feels aspirational, and buoying. That was the first time I heard “Told You So.” I really thought, “This will be my going-out song for the next six months.” And it has been.

Pasteur Lappé: “Sanaga Calypso”

Pasteur Lappé is a guy from Cameroon who was making music in the late ’70s, and “Sanaga Calypso” was on this collection of experimental African funk music. The first time I heard this song, it reminded me so much of the Clash’s Sandinista! The Clash were obviously influenced by dub and reggae, and they paid homage to those styles very openly and respectfully, but to hear something that reminded me of a song like “Charlie Don’t Surf”—dancey, soulful, very beautiful, and kind of elegiac—it just made me smile. I literally said, “Joe Strummer for sure heard this song!” I like building a small lineage between my own listening experience and the listening experience of somebody I’ve been inspired by, and that’s what this song does for me. It puts me back in the sphere of influence. And it’s catchy.

Roxy Music: “If There Is Something”

When you listen to a song a lot, it becomes more and more difficult for it to surprise you. But this song is perfectly structured in a way where it overtakes itself. It’s from Roxy Music’s self-titled album from 1972, and it starts out almost hokey, like it’s giving a nod to honky-tonk music. Then the guitar line comes in, and it’s like a fuck-you to the rest of the song. And then Bryan Ferry’s vocals completely change. It becomes so plaintive and emotional. It’s about this intrusion upon one’s own story, which I love.

When the song inserts a new sonic quality upon itself, it jars me from whatever I’m doing. I spend so much time trying to remind myself to be present, and this song acts as an aural reminder to do that. I use it almost as a form of meditation. And it’s what I want from music to begin with: It renders me stupid and rudderless, and then it rebuilds an anchor out of notes and melody. It’s like a continual reminder to do that in my life.

When I’m busy, listening to the same songs and artists over and over is a way of simplifying my life. I tend to wear the same clothing, everything becomes ritualized. Obviously there are so many new musicians that we can tune in to every day, but I also love finding a new appreciation for those who already exist. Because that’s what our world is: We build upon what’s already there. And I like unearthing as much as I like moving forward.