I spend a lot of time by myself. I go to the movies alone, take solo trips, and see as many concerts on my own as with other people.

Without delving too much into a freshman-level survey course of the introverted personality type, sometimes my aloneness doesn't faze me; other times I feel like I missed the day of school where you learn how get over your fear of rejection and find the nerve to call someone. I don't know if Colleen Green also missed that day of school. What I do know is that with Sock It to Me, Green has made a bedroom-punk masterpiece—and my favorite album of the year.

Green sings jittery, melodic, and multifaceted anthems about being alone, but she never wallows in her vulnerability or isolation. She sings about the indeterminate aloneness of having heavy shit on your mind and the loneliness felt while watching other people who seem to have it figured out. Green sings a lot about boyfriends and the astonishment of finding someone who likes you back, but there's always a distance: He might be noncommittal, or too cool, or never close enough to her.

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Green is modestly armed with tried-and-true power chords, a drum machine, and some slacker/stoner vibes. A lo-fi buzz hangs around Sock It to Me, giving it an airless and almost suffocating quality that masks its intensity; some might suspect that Green isn't "trying hard" enough here. But throughout the album you can hear just how hard Green is struggling to achieve a semblance of normality. The best songs start as brazen pop-punk gems, before falling in on themselves, stripping away into Green's pleading and yearning refrains. I don't think any other musician could package this much self-loathing and make it this catchy.

And just because this album is a great soundtrack for rolling around on your bedroom floor, it shouldn't give you an excuse for skipping out on the show tonight. Bring yourself or bring a friend. With Colleen Green, you'll find that being alone can be exhilarating, and maybe not so lonely. Heartland, 8 pm.