In first-year, music defined just about everything I experienced – the joy, the heartbreak, the crippling hangovers that had me confined to bed all day chugging electrolytes. Two years later, not much has changed (though I’ve learnt to handle my alcohol better). There’s a song attached to the late night study sessions, the questionable decisions I’ve made in Cats, and numerous trips to the beach. A song or a playlist has the power to define a specific moment or a whole period of your life. It’s a meaningful way of reminiscing and of summing up how you feel. I know I’m probably not alone in my addiction to making playlists, and I also hope I’m not alone in the belief that sharing music with someone else is the ultimate romantic gesture, another love language that shows just how well you know a person.
Mixtapes have a long history, evolving from vinyl and cassettes to CDs. With a radio and cheap tapes, anyone could be a DJ (what every guy from your highschool also thinks) though it took a lot of time and effort to create a playlist. But no one’s burning songs onto CDs anymore. And with the rise of AI, there’s the risk that making playlists becomes a dying art. There’s a whole heap of pre-made playlists on streaming platforms supposedly catered to your tastes. But the music giants don’t know you. Week after week, listening to my Spotify Discover Weekly (soz Apple Music purists but you’re not gonna convert me) is less about finding new music and more about finding out that Spotify doesn’t have a clue what I like to listen to. And isn’t that what we all want – to be known? To be loved so much that someone can pinpoint the perfect song for you? It’s the fantasy every teen movie relies on.
While the physical mixtape has lost its place in modern relationships, there’s a lot to be said about having access to someone’s music preferences. I’m a firm believer in Spotify-stalking. A thorough rifle through someone’s profile can reveal so much about them – sometimes too much. There’s no heartbreak quite like having a nosy on your crush only to discover they have a shared playlist with someone else. While you can let the algorithm decide your compatibility with someone with a good old Spotify blend, isn’t it just way more romantic to make the effort yourself? To individually choose the music you have in common, as well as share new recommendations and the track titles that say everything you can’t.
Although listening to a personalised playlist maybe isn’t quite the same as receiving a CD with the hand-written “Songs That Remind Me of You” on the front, the intimacy and intentionality still holds a lot of emotional weight. Picking out songs for someone and sharing those songs with them shows that you know them; you’ve listened to what kind of person they are. Because it doesn’t just mean you’ve figured out their music taste. It means you understand them, their emotions, and the best way to soundtrack your time spent together.
Crafting a playlist, even in the digital age, is a labour of love. Not only is it choosing the right songs, but it’s the cover photo, the playlist name. Do you title it your lover’s name in all caps followed by an obscene amount of emojis depicting your life together? An inside joke from three years ago that’s now only funny when you’re deliriously sleep-deprived? Do you choose that one picture from O-Week that should never have been saved in the chat or the one where you actually look like you enjoy spending time together? The possibilities are endless and infinitely poetic if you want them to be. Without sounding too sentimental, music helps you carry people with you. In many ways a playlist is like a locket, a reminder of a shared connection and a way of keeping someone close to you.
Sure, if the relationship ends (and ends badly) you now have a whole heap of songs you can’t listen to without crying and/or feeling slightly sick. But is it not better to have loved and lost, now with an excuse to make the post-breakup playlists, moving from “how could you do this to me please take me back” (and a picture of you crying) to “bad bitches don’t get their feelings hurt”. It’s cathartic, really.
And who says a playlist has to be made romantically? Dedicate them to your friends, a collection of all the songs that remind you of them, the things you’ve done together while at uni – the songs you’ve belted in the car or That One Song by That One Band who played at Pint Night and you all thought their lead singer was hot. Or, in the sappy act of self-love, dedicate it to yourself. Not just the standard playlist you make every so often to reflect your mood, but one for all the versions of you and their accompanying defining songs (yes, even the Camp Rock soundtrack). Because, ultimately, the act of making a playlist for anyone is actually the act of saying, “I see you, I know you, and I love you."