Spotify Wrapped can not be our third place
But don’t get me wrong, it’s still fun…
One of my favorite questions from a new guest who enters my living room is “Can I look through your records?” I note the records they stop at for a second or the ones they ask questions about. They see, they notice and I notice what they notice. I am always drawn to record collections and seek out the opportunity to explore a new collection. It’s equally fun to flip through someone else’s picks. Especially if it’s someone I don’t know well, sharing physical media feels uniquely special in a digital world where music conversations that exit the DMs can feel rare.
I started collecting records in middle school after admiring other people’s collections on social media. I’ve always used social media to share and discover music. I reposted songs on my Tumblr page and filled my Pinterest boards with images of my favorite bands and scribbly graphics featuring their best lyrics. I remember feeling slighted at the first Anthony Fantano review I watched where he gave a low rating to AM by Arctic Monkeys–a stab in the heart to my teenage self as I saw owning the vinyl as the ultimate status symbol. Around this time, I also joined Spotify.
As social media evolved, I shifted from re-blogging to sharing curated graphics of my listening habits around when the first Wrapped was released in 2016. I was thrilled to see my listening data on display and promptly screenshotted and shared the images.
The modern version of Wrapped (read more here) is viewed as a social media story and is easily shareable to the viewer’s personal Instagram story. The integration of Wrapped with Instagram was the start of a perfect storm for personal branding tied to music consumption to transform into a complete hallmark of how many of us exist on social media. Wrapped contributed to a broader cultural shift of music sharing taking over Instagram stories and music conversations being facilitated through them. In a lot of ways, this was a really cool development.
There’s something special about seeing people leave likes on your story or even initiating a conversation about a specific song or album. It feels especially great when it’s someone you wouldn’t have been close enough to text about, or haven’t talked to in a while—or ever. They see, they notice and you notice what they notice—if they take the time to swipe up.
For one day a year, Spotify has digitized that warm feeling of having someone flip through your records and turned it into a cultural phenomenon where all your followers—from your middle school English teacher to the person you met at summer camp 10 years ago—can all digitally snoop through your collection. And you can snoop through theirs. Every like feels like an enthusiastic nod, and every DM a sliver of validation. We love it so much that the day it drops each year, it’s impossible to ignore. And I don’t want to, I’m nosy!
On the surface, Spotify Wrapped has brought people together—but it was also a cultural step away from the tangible toward the digital. And though more widely shareable, also more individualized. Since Wrapped and similar websites that repackage your listening data have become popular, so many interactions about music are facilitated through story likes and clever one-liners. Wrapped, and everything about Spotify's algorithm in general, is centered around personalizing your streaming experience. If you get into an album late, it can feel embarrassing to post it in real time even if you want to share how much you love it. God forbid an “embarrassing” song enters your top 5 on Wrapped. There’s a subtle but real pressure to keep up with the image of a true music fan, whatever that means. But seriously, it's easy to view ourselves at the center of our own insular music community rather than part of a collective that comes together to appreciate music when Spotify thrives from making us feel like the main character.
It’s also easy to get fixated on self-commodification, either being staunchly against it or getting caught up in it. But the truth is, when I get the overpowering feeling that listening to a song at full volume with the windows down isn’t enough, I usually post it on my Instagram story. Even if people are not actually going to listen to it, what else am I supposed to do?
I may be coming from a place of feeling a KCOU (my college radio station)-shaped void, but I think there’s something to the idea of people loving Spotify Wrapped because they are seeking an avenue of connection through music that’s becoming harder to find. While the online music community is thriving, the offline music community has seen better days. Ticketmaster is gouging concert ticket prices and Pitchfork (formerly a notably independent publication) merged with GQ. Chicago’s Pitchfork Music Festival is shutting down. Not to mention Spotify is ripping off artists by paying them crumbs-per-stream. Meanwhile, their business model has contributed to the decline of physical music purchasing, which has transformed from common practice for the average listener to only something dedicated music fans partake in.
The good news is that the Spotify Wrapped phenomenon we love doesn’t only exist in the digital world. Spotify has figured out genius ways to appeal to our desires for self-commodification and connection—but it isn’t anything more real than the connections we can forge outside of it. Like the bond created with the other crowd members when the floor literally collapsed at a house show during my freshman year of college or the memory of when I tried to visit every record store in town on the same day as a teenager.
Everyone who loves the feeling of posting their Spotify Wrapped could also feel at home in a basement show with familiar faces in the crowd. Or at a music store where they recognize the employees from their weekly picks displayed on the back wall. Of course, there’s room for both. You can make an effort to stream local bands or listen to a Spotify playlist on the drive to a show. But maybe buy the record or CD when you get there.
Although there are executives who profit from diluting the music community (there always have been), there are also people in community surrounding music without any incentive beyond connection (there always will be). Almost anywhere you are you can find DIY venues, underground zines and open mic nights. If you haven’t yet, go find them–I promise it’s worth it.