Will I Listen to Mainstream Hits with No Radio?
I was six years old when my parents gave me a radio, kicking off a period of locking myself in my room with Colors 94.7 and a pile of suspiciously naked Barbies. For the first time I grasped that there was a world outside of our small family unit, populated with strange characters like Monica, Erica, Rita, Tina, Sandra, Mary, Jessica and that guy from Sugar Ray. It was gratifying to finally be able to follow schoolyard conversations about Nick Carter’s overwhelming sexiness, especially since none of us were old enough to actually find Nick Carter sexy, we were just old enough to lie to make ourselves look cool.
I have experienced widely varying levels of social connection and alienation in the years since, but my exposure to stations like 107.9 The End meant that I was always at least speaking the same basic musical language as everybody else. As recently as a year ago I could be found driving along Ashland Avenue growling at other drivers with my windows rolled up while playing “God’s Plan” on KISS FM. But ever since I sold my car in October to avoid paying registration fees, I’ve found myself slipping further away from the mainstream. I still constantly stream songs on Spotify, but while my previous musical exploration was always balanced by a knowledge of popular preferences, I have recently begun asking myself wistful questions like, “Is Taylor Swift gay now?” and “Is DJ Khaled still the best?”
Much has been said about the demise of monoculture, to which I have nothing to add except #geezerrants that barely conceal my fear of being left behind and therefore alone. As I approach death but not the traditional milestones of marriage, parenthood or a satisfying career, I drift further and further away from an inherent understanding of what everyone likes and is up to and why. How am I supposed to attain world domination if I can’t comprehend the thoughts of the masses? Everyone will find out I’m a cyborg if I don’t know all the lyrics to “Truth Hurts.” Yes, I know “Old Town Road,” and I love it very much. But I’ve already analyzed it to within an inch of its life, and while I now understand horses to be symbols of sexual supremacy among the humans, I fear there is still much for me to learn if I want to avoid arousing suspicion.
Spotify has several different playlists, such as “Today’s Top Hits,” that are specifically designed for the listening pleasure of those who want to keep up with what’s happening at the dental office and on Kathy’s way to pick up the boys from school. The problem with this setup is that one of the defining characteristics of mainstream pop is its inescapability. I didn’t hear “Fire Burning” by Sean Kingston 4,785 times in the summer of 2007 because I wanted to, it just happened. Around the 2,134th encounter I lied and told myself I enjoyed it to make subsequent listens more bearable. To this day it’s one of my favorite jams to throw on at karaoke parties and when customers irritate me at work.
I shouldn’t have to look for mainstream hits, they should come looking for me. Top 40 is supposed to be like your aunt at the cookout who’s hugging you too tightly, not that guy from Tinder who only sends you monosyllabic replies. Keeping up with mainstream culture used to be a reasonably passive activity, but now that it requires a higher level of intention, is it worth it?
Somewhere a drunk group of condescending tech bros is hollering and telling me that I should be happy that technology has advanced to the point that my personal music listening no longer has to include any song I don’t want to hear. I haven’t heard Adam Levine’s tinny voice in a year, and I am surely a better person for that. But every silver lining has a cloud. Many of my favorite songs and albums failed to win my admiration in one listen. Some, like “Nonagon Infinity,” just left me cold, while others, like “Dog Days Are Over,” actually repulsed me. They had to hit me at the right moment and right time, or be familiar enough that I could start to notice nuances that made them more endearing.
But who’s going to seek out a forgettable jam, or a song that they actively loathe? When I heave myself out of bed in the morning, I am looking for a tried and true banger to manipulate me into making the interminable journey to the coffee maker and proceeding with the rest of my daily routine. When I am walking down the street or riding the bus, I am actively looking for Music To Dissociate To, which requires familiarity. And sure, there are plentiful opportunities to play new music in the background while I work on projects that require a moderate level of mental focus, since I will be less likely to change the songs out of boredom. But Spotify has spent the last decade creating playlists for every conceivable mood and situation I could find myself in. In simpler times I was stuck with either radio mainstays like “Pony,” “Rollin’ in the Deep,” something by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, or whatever albums my cousin left in the CD book under the passenger seat of the car. Now, the stress of choosing the right music for the right time has never been higher. There is always a better song I could be listening to, one that better captures the energy of the moment and fulfills my emotional needs. Is there ever really a perfect time to listen to Drake?
That depends who you ask, but one of my most vivid memories of moving to Chicago was at a bar with my new roommates when everyone abruptly stopped their drunken conversations and half-hearted dancing long enough to yell-sing, “SHE SAID DO YOU LOVE ME I TELL HER ONLY PARTLY I ONLY LOVE MY BED AND MY MOMMA I’M SORRY!”
“Today’s Top Hits” was the most followed Spotify playlist in 2018, proving that I may once again be the only person overthinking this. It’s possible that the masses are so weighed down with analysis paralysis that choosing the most basic playlist possible constitutes a collective act of defiance against life’s cruel insistence on our constant state of decision-making. Or it could simply be that, even with a plethora of choices, most people just want to listen to what everyone else is listening to. The point of engaging with art, after all, is to gain a deeper understanding of both ourselves and the world in which we live. Perhaps it wouldn’t kill me to repeatedly listen to the same corporate concoction of general interest tunes in order to maintain a basic level of connection to strangers I otherwise go out of my way to avoid making small talk with. It could be fun, though, to swing in the opposite direction by developing a superiority complex and seeking out Music for Cool Teenagers. But let’s be honest. One day my rapidly depleting energy will leave me with no choice but to embrace a future of musical isolation. Then my only consolation will be the fantasy that every soggy neo-psych tune and sadboy 80’s synth deep cut that oozes through my headphones was created just for me.
