I know there are anti-Spotify folks out there. Purists who look down at ‘playlists’ and ‘chosen just for you.’ It makes them sweat with anger and clench their anus whilst hanging on to their Acoustic Research turntable, Radford pre-amp, Leak 130 amplifier and Ruark speakers that sit on custom-made audiochic walnut stands.
This I know; it was me in a previous life.
They don’t realise that the powerhouse that is Spotify can tell you more about your meagre existence than the finest tarot readings, it maps your life in an accurate and orderly fashion. Looking back through the music you play is an invaluable window onto your psychological state.
I have studied my listening habits and can now accurately tell exactly how drunk I was on any given evening. It is a simple process that is easy to understand (as Spotify logs everything we do) and very important to know. Do yours!
Music Played: Anything produced in the last 25 years, early renaissance choral, Vaughan Williams, 60’s ‘sunshine pop’ like Ronny & The Daytonas, American West Coast driving music, movie soundtracks, dinner jazz shit, Motown and Stax.
Condition: Sober.
Music Played: Rickie Lee Jones/Joni Mitchell, Tom Waits, prog rock, urban R&B, country & western, ambient techno, William Byrd/Thomas Tallis, Stevie Wonder.
Condition: A few glasses of fine wine in, wife slightly emotional (hence girly serious stuff) but you’re still able to function fully. It’s a pleasant evening indeed.
Here we go….
Music Played: John Ireland/Frank Bridge, Led Zep, Bad Co, Wu Tang Clan, 80’s power ballads, Nick Drake/Sandy Denny/John Martin, Bowie/Mott/T Rex, classic punk singles (there were only eleven) and AC/DC.
Condition: You are drunk. You are repeating yourself and phoning people who never ever call you (you know who you are), you will soon start looking in obscure kitchen cupboards for delicious cooking sherry and you’ll start shouting: ‘I know there’s some fucking gin here somewhere.’
Music Played: Don McLean, John Denver, Whitney Houston (The Greatest Love Of All) and Jacqueline du Pré.
Condition: You are in the danger zone. You are weeping while shouting along with ‘Rocky Mountain High’, you are rocking back and forward in the foetal position while ‘Vincent’ is played at ear-bleeding volume, you are close to soiling yourself and sleeping in your own piss on your Colombian cow skin rug as Whitney reaches her spectacular denouement. During Miss du Pré’s notorious Elgar piece you simply lie on the floor having lost the use of your limbs.
But at least you know your own mind…
