Wednesday morning, Dec. 3rd my friend drops me a Spotify link. I assumed it was a song, but upon second glance I realized she was pointing out to me that one of the best parts of being a Spotify subscriber — the year end Wrapped story that recaps your personal listening habits across the year — was now available. Yay!
I tapped the button and let my personalized story unfold. I smiled. I nodded. I was impressed to see that I’d listened to over 500 new artists, explored over 300 genres, some of which don’t rank anywhere on mainstream radars and fell in love with one song before it had even reached 50,000 streams. A pioneer, they called me. Spotify’s words, not mine, but I’ll take it thank you very much. Also, apparently I’m in the top .5% of Kaytranada fans, anyone who knows me isn’t surprised by this. The man can do no wrong.
And as my story came to a close one of my favorite discoveries of the year thumped with it’s soothing base and driving snare, a tune from Lianne La Havas’ self-titled album which took me on an emotional whirlwind all summer and fall.
I know it’s only a function of endlessly gathering and tracking data that I willingly input into this application that I happily pay $9.99 a month for. As a subscriber perk, I get this multi-tile story that the brand presumes I’ll plaster across social media as a badge of honor for myself and a promotional play for them. But this year’s Wrapped meant so much more to me than a “hey look at this” moment for Instagram.
Two years ago I couldn’t listen to music. As 2018 came to a close and I looked towards what 2019 would bring I knew something had to change. A lot of somethings had to change. I needed my earth to be shaken. I recall looking at my Wrapped report that year with my mouth pulled to the side in dismay seeing what I’d been feeling all year rolled out in charts and graphs culled together by an algorithm. I had stopped really listening to music for enjoyment, but rather as a function of drowning out noise on my day to day commute and to give myself high BPMs to hit the treadmill to on the rare trip to the gym. My story that year looked like a bunch of random songs that I didn’t even like (or know) because my ex actually used my Spotify account more often than I did.
What that moment confirmed for me was that a part of me was dead. I was in the darkest place I’d ever dipped into in my entire life. For me, music exploration is life. It’s what I wake up for. Nothing brings me more joy than to put on a playlist that I created to enjoy by myself or with friends to see thier reactions to new and beloved music. To share new discoveries with people. To unearth an artist who hasn’t hit anyone’s radar yet and talk about them incessantly until suddenly they’re mainstream. But throughout 2018 I did none of that. I just put my earphones in and pressed play on a few songs that I knew I liked and could tolerate. Everything else sounded like noise. Listening to new artists grew less and less appealing until listening to music altogether became a chore occasionally making my heart race out of anxiety until I just shut it off and opted for a podcast instead.
I didn’t know it when I was in it but I was severely depressed. I completely lost interest in something that I ordinarily love. Something that’s so synonymous with my being. I felt heavy and sad and my lack of music exploration was a manifestation of that feeling.
2019 brought about all of the changes required to break me from that dark time.
2020 offered me all the tools I needed to mend myself.
As we stand on the brink of 2021, I’m me again.
I listen to my Top Songs of 2020 playlist and grin. I found my love of music again. I found me again.
I’m so happy, I could cry.
Explore my genre-lust filled taste below, enjoy ❤️.