What I Listened to in 2018

Two Thursdays ago, I received an email from Spotify. The streaming service lured me in with a GIF of the words “Your 2018 Wrapped.” The email told me that I listened to 1197 songs this past year, and then directed me to a surface-level analysis of my favorite artists, songs, and genres. I’m a sucker for an attractive, interactive interface, so I was pulled in and ended up awed and frightened with how much Spotify knows about me, and how much it still gets wrong.

Miles Davis

Spotify tracked my every listen of the year, and proved a better mnemonic device than my own brain. I must be slipping, because I didn’t remember that the first album I listened to in 2018 was David Bowie’s mix of The Stooges’ Raw Power, the first song being “Search and Destroy.” The first new artist I listened to was the progenitor of Ethio-Jazz, Mulatu Astatke. His snaking, soulful grooves have since become a favorite of mine.

Spotify then asked me “Can you guess how many minutes you spent listening this year?” Apparently, 4064, the equivalent of 2.82 days. Though that amount makes sense given that I, supposedly, listened to 1197 songs, that seems a little low given how much I think I listen to music. Spotify might know me better than I know myself, or I’ve spent too much time with Apple Music on the side.

Unsurprisingly, Miles Davis was my top artist. I remember giving Kind of Blue a few spins, and “Flamenco Sketches” many more than that. I also put on On the Corner and Miles’ soundtrack for Louis Malle’s 1958 film Ascenseur pour l’échafaud frequently, though Spotify claims I only listened to the Prince of Darkness for four hours total over this year. So what? Just because you read it on the internet doesn’t mean it’s correct. Even big data is fallible.

Rounding out my top artists, in order, were George Benson, Isaac Hayes, Bill Evans, and Heatwave. What can I say? I’m a sucker for slick soul, well-written disco, and thoughtful jazz. I know George Benson is up there behind Miles Davis, thanks to his stellar 1980 album Give Me the Night, produced by Quincy Jones and featuring masterful pop songwriting by Rod Temperton. I’d put Evans above Hayes and Benson (and perhaps Miles) in terms of listening time, and I can’t explain Heatwave’s presence. I think it’s the Temperton connection again, who was the band’s longtime keyboardist and chief songwriter. If it has his name on it, I’m in.

Julie London

Spotify then told me that the oldest song I listened to was Art Blakey & the Jazz Messengers’ 1956 tune “Infra-Rae.” I’m almost certain that’s not the case, since I’m old fashioned and I love the old fashioned things. I definitely listened to Duke Ellington’s 1927 version of “Black and Tan Fantasy,” as well as the earlier work of Julie London and Frank Sinatra on at least one occasion each. Seems like Spotify doesn’t take original release date into factor, tabulating this piece of data by the latest reissue or remaster date alone.

At the end of the revelatory interactive, Spotify implored me to “Start 2019 by broadening your horizons” as if I haven’t opened my ears. Sure, I have preferences, likes, dislikes, but I once had an iPod Classic with 14,000 songs on in, filled to the brim with indie rock, hip-hop, free jazz, ambient music, old-time country, Southern rock, New Wave, no-wave, Afrobeat, Philly soul, New York punk, and P-Funk, among other grooves. I listened to most of them at least once.

I’m not sure what concerns me more: That Spotify knows my musical preferences better than my own mother, it seems, or that its data profile of my listening habits has holes. The late, great Glenn O’Brien once quipped “A paranoid is someone with all the facts.” Either the internet is paranoid, or is driving society into a collective state of paranoia, but we have all the facts available at will. We may even have some alternative ones, too.

I’m not logging out of Spotify permanently. I’m a heretic without a record player, an analog wannabe in a digital world. Unless you’re bamboozled into its premium program, Spotify remains the most affordable way to access millions of songs at the click of a mouse. Tidal never gave it a run for its money despite its exclusive releases, and while Apple Music is a worthy competitor with a broader selection, it’s $10.99 a month and only available on Apple devices. Great for devotees like me, though not so much for everyone else.

George Benson’s Give Me the Night (1980)

Unfortunately there’s no way to keep Spotify from collecting my data, and they use it as a means of keeping people in their musical paradigm. Streaming services discourage discovery by diverting listeners onto paths that compartmentalize their listening habits, collecting information about what they listen to and generating suggestions that fall within the same category. Many people are stuck in a pop feedback loop. Some of us, myself included, are jazzed by jazz, funked up by funk, and feel soul good with soul, and not much else.

At this rate, we’ll have specialized music libraries in the near future, showing us music based on an algorithm like Instagram’s, eliminating the possibility of discovery. Record labels need profit, too. Corporations don’t want people exerting the power of choice, they desire control over our every decision, including our listening habits. If their albums aren’t slotted at the top of our rotations, wouldn’t they want to change that? We’re already halfway there, since everyone is talking about Ariana Grande’s relationships and brownface allegations, and consumed by Kanye West’s faux pas of the day. Both musicians may be talented, and I think that Grande’s “God is a Woman” is one of the best pop songs of 2018. More than their lyrics and sounds, their exploits and behavior dominate the sort of cultural conversations usually reserved for transgressive and transformative artists. They are the future of self-promotion, and know that engaging in controversy for controversy’s sake is the modus operandi of marketing. The artists and labels who don’t get hip to it risk irrelevance.

As Spotify feeds us more of Ariana and Kanye, our musical appetites risk malnourishment. Not because these artists deprive us of vital sonic nutrients, but that their popularity feeds into how streaming services want us to behave. The peril of having every song known in existence available is that some will remain unknown, moreso if a select few artists dominate these platforms. This homogenized future isn’t inevitable, if we reacquaint ourselves with curiosity and skepticism. Let’s break the algorithm in the name of good old fashioned discovery.