Discover Weekly or Disengage Daily
Algorithms shape what we hear, but are we really listening? From mixtapes to Discover Weekly, I reflect on how passive consumption is changing our connection to music and why it’s time to take control
DiPartures is my chance to write about things apart from my SoEV project which has (thankfully) brought most of my readers to this Substack.
If you are new to this Substack, you can check out my other sections INS(oev)IDE, where I write about the stories of being a street photographer and some commentary on clothing and style or GENEs, interviews about clothing with the stylish people I’ve met in the neighborhood.
I often listen to podcasts on long runs, drives, or stretches of walks where I know I won’t run into anyone and I can focus on what is being said. I find it helps me go at a slower pace and distracts me from some boring parts of a route or commute. However, there are times during running (most recently last weekend) when my body and mind reach a state in which I have expended so much energy physically, I can’t focus on a podcast anymore. It usually happens on the last few kilometers of a long run. During this time, I often switch to a playlist I’ve made, or occasionally, Spotify's Discover Weekly (SDW). SDW has often been able to mesh many of the different genres I like into some pretty good, algorithmically calculated playlists. There are weeks where I find myself adding multiple songs off the DW playlist into my own playlists. There are also other weeks where I skip through the entire thing… but regardless, until recently, I have always looked at SDW with amazement and gratitude as it has opened me up to so many new artists from places and spaces I’d never think to look.
During this particular run, when I really needed a boost, the first song that came on was right in the pocket of a nostalgic sounding indie that perfectly threaded a few of my favorite bands together. The algorithm seemed to be working perfectly yet again. The drums had a steady beat, the intro was long and spacy, and the singing had that touch of emo that pushed my pace back to where I needed it to be.
As I was about half way through the song though I started to think about some of the accusations about Spotify generating AI artists (See Ted Gioia 1, 2, Fast Company) and I had to second guess myself… is this a real artist? Is the Spotify AI getting so good now that it can mesh some of my favorite artists into a song that perfectly appeals to me (this specific song wasn’t “perfect”, but…is it possible)? (A disclaimer here, this writing is more an exercise in thought about the future of my own consumption of art, and not a blast on Spotify itself. Spotify has come out and said that they are doing what the articles above are claiming, but you can decide for yourself if the incentives of that model would outweigh them coming out and saying that’s the route they are currently taking…)
As I was running, I took a quick look at the artist and made a mental note to investigate when I got home. Indeed, the band I was playing was a real artist and I went about my day, but, since then, I can’t quite shake this suspicion that everything I now listen to, that I am not already familiar with on Spotify, is generated by their alleged use of fake artists using AI.
I started to examine and reflect on my current consumption habits and questioned if my behaviors have been influenced by this constant stream of media, information, and technologies we have at our fingertips, now enhanced with AI. I felt a bit of my old self becoming replaced with this ease of consumption and although I try to fight it in some facets of life (shopping, eating), I may be succumbing to it in others…
I’ve been making “playlists” since I was actively choosing my own music. The progression and change has been fascinating, and a bit overwhelming, to think about. As I mentioned in a recent interview, music has always played a big part of my life, mostly inspired and influenced by my dads record and CD collection and his own desire to constantly curate and make playlists. When I was around 11 years old, seeking some pre-teen autonomy and wanting to take control over what I was listening to, I learned how to use a CD changer and tape-decks to make my own mixtapes. I distinctly remember learning the art of pausing the tape to allow the CD changer to get to the next track for seamless playback, carefully planning which CDs would have to be in the changer to get the right mix transferred to the tape. A couple years later, the world of making my own mixes opened up further when I installed a CD-R drive on my home computer and started downloading mp3s using Napster and Limewire. I would set up downloads to run overnight to ensure I could put together the right playlist in the morning for an upcoming road trip with my walkman. We used to make our own album art, CD and tape sleeves, and share our creations with friends and family. At one point, we had amassed so many burnt CDs they started to take over the space of our real ones. Although the downloading and burning had opened up “free music”, we continued to buy music as supporting artists was always at the core of our consumption. Another leap came when I got my first MP3 player in the middle of highschool that could hold 16 songs, without any external CD or tape it could be endlessly manipulated as my tastes changed week to week. Then of course came every version of iPod, from the scroll wheel to the shuffle. I remember importing all of my downloaded mp3s into Apple music for the first time and taking weeks to ensure the album art and meta-data was correct and “ripping” CD’s we owned to my library to build my own, personal, music database.
In every iteration of making playlists and mixes, I was obsessively learning, sorting, mixing, and curating music. I still exercise this level of curation to some degree today. Despite Spotify’s fantastic ability to put together its own “curated” playlists, or even generate AI playlists based on a few terms now, I still find myself making my own playlists. Either corresponding to the season, to a mood, activity, era, or just energy in general. I’ve been making “seasonal” playlists encompassing the music I am listening to through each season of taking photos as I am out on the street for hours at a time. I rarely go back too far to re-listen to a season, but I am looking forward to a time when I do go back to sort through photos and I can listen to that playlist while I do so.
After thinking about it for a while, I realized that this “habit” of curating playlists for myself is the active and conscious part of the consumption. In doing that practice, I am investing my energy to consciously take in whatever it is I am consuming, in this case, music. Granted, having to go to HMV to buy a record or CD to bring home to put on a tape took way more energy, time, and resources. I am all for the ability to simply open my phone to have the endless library available, but there is a nostalgic feeling of loss in the ease of use today. The habit of investigating and thinking about what songs I would want on a mix usually encourages me to find out more about the artist, related artists, and continue the search for the next song on the playlist.
I am admittedly in a timeframe of my life where I can’t really sit and listen to music as an activity anymore, the times where I can, are usually paired with another activity such as commuting, walking, riding, playing with my kid, or running. Do I miss those days of just sitting down with a record and reading the lyrics? Of course, but I am still trying to integrate elements of conscious consumption. While my curation is not as “active” as it was in the past, I am still trying to take in what I am listening to and internalize, sort, and codify as much as I can. It’s now got me thinking about more of these subtle actions I can take to ensure I am consciously consuming and “fighting against” the gluttonous versions of consumptions we are exposed to daily.
We are constantly bombarded with easy opportunities to passively consume more than we can handle. You can see this in the way we eat (highly processed, calorically dense but nutritionally lacking fast food), watch videos (endless possibilities of streaming services you can watch passively while mindlessly scrolling on your phone), communicate (Snapchat, stories, reels—designed for quick, fleeting interactions), listen to music (the focus of this piece), shop (one-click purchases and algorithm-driven product suggestions that encourage impulsive buying), consume news (clickbait headlines and bite-sized content that oversimplify complex issues), exercise (gamified fitness apps that prioritize streaks over real health), write (using AI to form long lists of things that we do passively…) and engage with art (viral trends reducing creative works to background aesthetics or 'content').
In trying to maintain some aspects of conscious control I’ve reflected on one aspect of listening to music intently I’ve always enjoyed. Consistently when I am listening to music, I am challenging and thinking to myself; who else needs to hear this song. Many of my friends would agree, I am always sending links to songs, trying to gain a further understanding of my own interpretation of their tastes and fine tuning my own curation abilities. This activity builds both my own attunement and engagement, but also allows me to continue to connect with friends and let them know I am thinking about them. One of the most satisfying exchanges is when I say “Hey, check out this song, I think you’ll love it” and they immediately text back “spot on!”. I also love when it happens in return.
Recognizing this shift in consciousness while listening is a small part in trying to stay engaged in consuming art. I know the solution isn’t to disconnect entirely but to engage more intentionally. These moments when I am looking up an artist to ensure they are not AI, speaks back to the core of my listening. These small acts of mindfulness can help reclaim the joy of discovery and reconnect us to the music—and the world—around us. I try and battle many of these daily habits as much as I can, but we are all victims of it whether we like it or not. I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve listened to playlists in the past with songs that spark some joy simply pass by without ever knowing who the artist was. I can recognize tones of tracks today from my Spotify playlists but not be able to tell you where the artist is from, or even what year the song was made. This would not have been true 10 years ago.
I have never been a huge “New Years Resolution” person, but I will definitely be working on this “conscious consumption” in more than just listening this year as I navigate many of the multi-tasking and easy streams of media we encounter daily.
Thanks for reading. I am hoping to get back to more SoEV content soon, but I have been finding these “DiPartures” really fun to write.
As a decidedly much more casual music listener than those around me (my little brother has a music blog here: https://open.substack.com/pub/kaizhang?r=m0sw2&utm_medium=ios) the mixtape part was super cool but didn’t resonate with me as much.
But the conscious consumption of media really did. Over the last year (and into the new year) I’ve really been thinking about apps that feel like adult pacifiers to me (Instagram, X, Reddit) with their algorithmically driven feeds that you can’t remember what you saw yesterday, and have been trying to be more mindful of what I’m consuming (physical books, less news focused podcasts, some substacks).
But I would like to offer a little counter perspective for sending/sharing Instagram reels :) like sharing music, it has similar elements of “here’s something I think is cool, which I think you’d think is cool”. the little comments and hyperspecific memes allow me to connect with old friends and new, but definitely shouldn’t replace actual conversing, or heaven forbid meeting up in-person (which we’re doing A LOT less of apparently).