It’s December, which means holiday spirit in the air, last-minute Christmas shopping, spending time with loved ones, and, oh yeah, the release of Spotify Wrapped.
At the end of each year, music streaming services release each user’s personalized statistics on the music they listened to that year in a neat little infographic. This may include the top genres, albums, songs, artists or the number of minutes of music the user listened to that year. This is a fun idea, as seeing the objective truth of your music taste presented to you is interesting. No more pretending you like some esoteric indie band that nobody has ever heard of to look cool in front of your friends. At this point, you have no choice but to confront the fact that you listened to the “Mean Girls: The Musical” soundtrack for 1,141 minutes (not speaking from personal experience or anything). It’s interesting to see stats about your habits, especially with something as routine as listening to music. While we generally know what music we like, we don’t consider what the aggregate data might look like after a year.
The issue is not the existence of Spotify Wrapped (or similar services on other music streaming platforms). The issue is how it’s nearly impossible for someone to be on a social media app without being bombarded by these catchy little infographics being posted on peoples’ Instagram stories or somewhere similar. My question is, why do these people feel the need to alert others of their music taste? Why do they think others care? What are they trying to prove?
Maybe it’s not that deep, but people do tend to want to show off their musical taste. We feel that it says something about us, that it reflects us in some way. Otherwise, why is there an idea of “good” and a “bad” music taste? After all, taste is subjective. People prefer certain things over others based on their personality and life experiences. Who is to say one’s taste is better than another?
Except when it comes to music, there is a hierarchy. For example, is it cooler to admit to liking Taylor Swift or Phoebe Bridgers? Does it make you more interesting if you listen to Iggy Azalea or Frank Ocean? Are you more cultured if you prefer Weezer or the Beatles? In all three cases, most people would intuit that it is less embarrassing to listen to the latter. Despite this, Taylor Swift, Iggy Azalea and Weezer are incredibly successful and famous, each amassing millions of monthly streams. How can there be a gap between what people admit to liking and the objective number of streams and revenue these artists bring in? Clearly, there is some inauthenticity going on.
Many people call these their “guilty pleasure” artists, but why should people feel guilty for listening to the music they like? Why do we judge people for listening to more mainstream artists, assuming they are less intelligent, that they are more simple-minded, that they are not as unique, cultured, special, or interesting as someone who listens to lesser-known artists? Why is there so much pretentiousness around music taste? What does our music taste say about us?
Music, similar to fashion, sorts us into subcultures. In the same way you might draw conclusions (whether or not they’re reasonable) based on what someone is wearing, you can do the same with music. Listening to music that is considered “uncool” or “low-brow” is the equivalent of wearing plaid with stripes or an ill-fitted outfit—it can make you look like you aren’t “in the know.” Just like someone can listen to their guilty pleasure music in secret, they can also wear the unfashionable clothes they like around the house where nobody can see.
We all want to be considered cool, special, interesting, cultured or intelligent. It’s human nature. Humans evolved to the extent we have because we have complex social networks that have helped our species survive. Being excluded from the community would mean death. Fast-forward to hundreds of thousands of years later, not only belonging to but being a valued member of a group is still important to everyone. Anything that can be a threat to that—such as appearing uncool or boring—must be hidden, only to be confessed to those we trust. Essentially, we get social capital for knowing what’s cool and participating in it.
At the end of the year, those of us who are proud of our Spotify Wrapped, who feel like it makes us look good and that there isn’t anything embarrassing to not post it on social media. This not only conveys that you are part of some sort of subculture—whether it be eyeliner-wearing emo fans, flannel-wearing country fans or gold chain-wearing hip-hop fans—but that you are a worthy member of that subculture, not some sort of poser. You have the stats to back it up. You managed to go the whole year without someone embarrassing as your top artist, or a song you claim to listen to ironically as your top song. That feels validating, especially for young people who are already confused about their identity. While there’s nothing wrong with showing off what music you listen to the most, maybe we should all aspire to be less judgmental of people’s music tastes and not draw any unreasonable conclusions about them as a person.
