During a recent beer-induced conversation about shitty music, my dumb friends and I got to the topic of guilty pleasures. Everybody has that band or record they’re afraid to admit to liking. I figured it would be cathartic to admit some of my own guilty pleasures, and to ask folks from the local scene about theirs.

I dragged the girlfriend away from a nap to attend the Acoustic Brotherhood Tour at the Lensic Performing Arts Center on Feb. 11. We were ushered to our seats and waited for the show to begin. The few times I’ve attended music performances in theaters with seats, I’ve always felt crestfallen. I really prefer to stand or dance—not that I’m much of a dancer, but the option is always nice.

It’s the darkest night ever, and it doesn’t take me long to discover that the drive to Jono Manson’s studio in Chupadero is no joke. I’m lost out past Tesuque, and a cop car is following me with its flashers on, which makes me freak out.

When February comes around, bazillions of people across the globe are forced to recall how lonely they are.

Thank god for music—if anyone feels your pain, it’s musicians.

Joe Ray Sandoval and Dynamite Sol are branching out from their popular Reggae Party with Alchemy, a new event at Milagro 139. Starting Feb. 5, and every Friday thereafter, Milagro plays the host to what is bound to become Santa Fe’s next dance destination.

Santa Feans did their part at the Have a Heart For Haiti benefit show on Jan. 20 at Cowgirl. A who’s who of Santa Fe’s best musicians donated time and music in order to raise money for the Red Cross and Doctors Without Borders. Crowds, the likes of which are rarely seen in this town, poured into Cowgirl and opened their wallets for the victims of the quake, donating more than $3,200.

Since it opened its Second Street location in 2002, Backroad has quietly been putting on some of the best shows in town. Musicians like indie-queen Mirah, rapper $amwise, my arch nemesis Casiotone For the Painfully Alone and even yours truly have rocked the pizza joint. But the regular bluegrass jam is something special.

If you’re a regular at The Matador, you’ve probably seen Johnny Pink, Santa Fe’s only greaser, sporting tattooed arms, a leather jacket and one hell of a pompadour. Pink works the bar during its daytime coffee shop hours and often works the door at night.

My friends and I attended a recent punk show benefitting Youth Shelters. The cause was just and the bill was promising. All was not well, however.

Love me or hate me, I’ll be with you in the new year to help you navigate the ups and downs of the scene—and surely to prove my self-worth. Looking back over 2009, I was left with several lasting impressions of Santa Fe and its music scene.