My Spotify Wrapped for this year dropped the other week.
Okay, so did everybody else. I guess there’s no need to say that like it’s a personal exclusive.
The past year, from my viewpoint, was one of the best years for music we’ve had in a while. So many of my old favorites came out with new albums, from Vampire Weekend to Gallant to Lupe Fiasco. Hip hop had an especially strong year, especially with late-in-the-year drops from Kendrick Lamar and Tyler, the Creator.
But I knew exactly what to expect when opening up my listening stats.
There, in the number one spot, after such a great year of new music was none other than Brian Tyler.
Who?
You wouldn’t get it from his avatar, a back-lit, mostly silhouetted portrait of his head, but Brian Tyler composed the majority of the 2003 Super Mario Brothers movie soundtrack. And this was a big year for Mario in our house.
Of course, I am currently in that season of life where I share my Spotify account with the whole family. A family that currently consists of three preschool age students. It was actually to my surprise that the Frozen soundtrack was absent from the list, as was the early childhood hitmaker, Danny Go. I could’ve sworn they racked up enough minutes.
Our top song was actually Naacho Naacho, a Telugu dance anthem from the 2023 Indian film RRR that was performed at the Oscars. But it’s one of the kids’ favorite tracks for living room dance parties, so that also counts as one of theirs. Not Like Us managed to snag a spot, just ahead of two Mario songs. I am eternally grateful to Kendrick Lamar for getting into his rap feud as I was ramping up my marathon training.
Amusingly, Tyler, the Creator got the fifth spot in my top artists section. But I’m not sure if that’s due to Chromakopia, or the fact that he has two singles on the soundtrack of the 2018 rendition of The Grinch, my five year old’s current obsession.
Fighting the taste freeze
There’s a term for the reason songs don’t hit you quite like they did back in your teens and twenties, and that term is taste freeze. Past the age of 27, your taste in music is likely to stick. I’ve noticed my algorithms tend to recommend the exact same artists I was enamored with fifteen years ago, and while loyalty and longevity are worthy of praise, I discovered these artists because fifteen years ago, my musical horizons were really widening, and it doesn’t quite feel the same way anymore.
There are a whole bunch of theories why this happens, and I think they all contain validity.
For one, my late teens and early twenties were full of identity-shaping moments. When a song turns into the soundtrack for that evolution, it becomes so much more than a song. It becomes an totem. A means of taking yourself back to that moment.
Elbow’s Build a Rocket Boys will always send me to the streets of Buenos Aires, where I felt a sense of life being an adventure. Band of Horses’ Infinite Arms takes me to a late summer, post-breakup, where I realize that I was simply glad the relationship happened, despite its impermanence. All the spiritual themes of Sufjan Stevens’ Illinois album just so happen to coincide with my own spiritual formation.
But as you enter your thirties, your identity tends to be more stable. For better or worse, drastic changes are less likely.
There’s also the really practical fact that my time spent listening to music has really been reduced.
Should my kids be in the car, we’re more likely to be listening to their music. And some of my favorites are off the table. While working or running, podcasts compete for those listening moments too. There are so many good ones. Oh, and audiobooks.
The thought occurs to me that at some point, my kids will surpass me when it comes to their taste in music.
Of course, I’ll have the advantage of knowing what albums from my lifetime have aged well enough to be considered timeless. I’ll be able to put them on to the classics that came out before they were born, as all elders should. I imagine by the moment this time comes around, the list will include A Love Supreme alongside In Rainbows, Ziggy Stardust and DAMN.
But in this forthcoming era, let’s say the late 2030s and into the 40s, the most influential artists entering their peak will more likely be their contemporaries. And it’s my hope that as my role as their dad evolves to contain more elements of friendship, I hope playlist sharing is a part of that. (Or whatever the 2040s technological equivalent of that is).
I think a lot of parents think about the certain moments that they will be overtaken by their kids. The moment you stop being taller than them. The moment where one can finally beat you 1-on-1. The moment where you ask them for tech help.
For me, the musical taste eclipse is the one I think about the most, but I think if you play those cards right, it can be a beautiful thing.
You need to listen to Ngozi Starr. You might’ve heard her on the Black Panther 9 soundtrack…
Ah, hold up. This reminds me of Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. You ever hear that one?
No.
Okay, you’re really in for a treat.
At the moment, as I predict my three year old’s appetite for Blippi’s monster truck song before he even asks, the time feels far away. But we know it isn’t really.
“You know there’s a trick to not factor your kids’ music into your algorithm, right?”
A friend tells me.
She sends me a reel. Apparently, the trick is simply creating a separate playlist for them. You can then enable a setting on that playlist that discounts it from your listening statistics and algorithm.
I try it out. I make a playlist and drag the Hot Wheels soundtrack on to it, followed by Frozen, both 1 & 2.
Within a month, the playlist has gone outdated. My kids are more interested in Danny Go, who I don’t get around to adding to the playlist. I ultimately never do.
I think about this impulse. To want to sequester their taste in music onto a separate playlist so it doesn’t contaminate your own. There are some practical reasons, of course. For once, my Release Radar used to be a very useful tool for knowing when my favorite artists had new releases or finding similar artists. Now it is recommending nine different songs off Moana 2, The Minions Banana Song, and something called Freaky Song by Horror Skunx with cartoon aliens on the album art.
Plus, in those early days of parenthood, you quickly realize how quickly your identity has been usurped by your new role. You aren’t able to get out and have the social life you used to. Several activities that used to bring you joy need to be shelved as your world suddenly gets very small. You take on this role that really has no off-the-clock, and so for many, losing your Spotify calibration might feel like just another part of you that has gone off into the void. You love the kids, of course, the eternal disclaimer is always in effect. But also, who even are you these days?
#OneFamilyOneSpotifyAccount is my official rallying cry.
Over the past couple of years, I’ve embraced taking full ownership of my Spotify Wrapped at the end of the year, meaning showing it off with pride. The Mario-ness of it all.
This year, I’ve felt far less alone in that approach. I saw a friend’s Instagram story. Her kids have been loving Bluey. Who doesn’t?! I saw a vlogger I like, someone pretty big in the Australian punk scene, share his Wrapped, and had been similarly taken over by The Wiggles and Ms. Rachel and the like. And he was absolutely loving it.
“Underneath the fact that me and my daughter made it to the top .05% of listeners to Dance Mode on the Bluey soundtrack is the fact that every morning we had a dance party to the song, and that’s beautiful!”
Looking at my toddlercore Spotify Wrapped, and some of my further listening stats actually paints a much fuller picture of my life than the aesthetic version of the list.
I see Danny Go’s Spooky Spiders Everywhere and think of all the times I drove my Halloween-loving five-year-old off to his new school. I see Squabble Up and think of how after those drop-offs I typically manage to run a few miles at the nearby lake. I see the ridiculous metal covers of pop songs and know that they represent the hunt for entrance music for one of my improv teams. I can’t see Let It Go, without also hearing my two year old’s voice singing along to it. Years ago, I said I was thankful the Frozen craze struck a decade ahead of my time to have kids knowing how incessant that soundtrack was in 2014. My daughter found her way to it anyways, and you know what? It’s actually quite nice.
“I think an extremely toddler core Spotify Wrapped is something to be very proud of,” continues Campbell Walker. “Because, essentially, you have altered the soundtrack of your world to be about them. They are the main character, and damn man, that’s beautiful.”
I see the beauty in that. I see the beauty in the eclectic mix. The one that shows the parts of you that want to dissect Kendrick lyrics is still alive, but it lives alongside the part of you that can nail both parts of Love Is An Open Door by heart.
It’s a banger of a mix.