Well, it’s the end of the year, and you know what that means: time for the bests and the mosts. Every publication worth its salt is making a list and checking it twice to decide who put out the best music this year, and every acquaintance you follow on Instagram is flexing their streaming stats through Spotify Wrapped and Apple Music Replay. It’s an exciting season for everyone from the casual fan to the hardcore snob.
For me, who falls somewhere on that spectrum (depending on who you ask), it’s also a season of anxiety. Whenever I read one of those end-of-year lists, with album after album I either never got around to or never even knew existed, I’m gripped with overwhelming musical FOMO. And when I see randos on social media who absolutely crushed my minutes listened, I feel like a total fraud. I’m getting attacked on two fronts: by what I listened to, and by what I didn’t.
As is the case with many of the music industry’s issues, a big chunk of the blame falls on streaming services. Spotify Wrapped is cool, sure, but it’s also uncomfortably revealing. If you want everyone to see how many sick indie artists you discovered this year, they’re also gonna see how many times you played Hanson’s “MMMBop.”
And you know what’s weird? 364 days out of the year, I will proudly proclaim my love for a song like “MMMBop.” I’ll saddle up on my high horse, a paragon of acceptance, and say, “there’s no such thing as a ‘guilty pleasure!’ Like what you like, and don’t give a damn about what anyone else thinks!” But on the day Spotify Wrapped drops, my tune changes. Every single year, there’s at least one song or artist in my top five that makes me cringe. And since it’s cold, hard, data that brings about these playlists, I can’t claim any sort of misrepresentation.
It doesn’t stop there. After a brief period of denial about my own listening habits, I usually turn to social media to see what everyone else listened to this year (which I like seeing, though I know many people do not). That’s when the imposter syndrome kicks in. As I scroll through post after post of people who listened to a greater quantity and variety of music than me, I feel less and less qualified to base so much of my identity around being knowledgeable about music.
Spotify and social media aren’t the only things that trigger this identity crisis. Pretty much every music publication (and a few non-music ones too) puts out a thoughtfully prepared list of the best music of the year. I have a love/hate relationship with these lists. They’re a great overview of the year’s musical highlights, but they’re also a reminder of how much material I let slip through the cracks. This year, across the handful of lists I read through, I counted over a hundred albums that A) I never listened to and B) I probably would have liked. That’s an overwhelming number. Even after my usual December sprint through a Top Ten or two, I can’t help but feel like I’m not qualified to share a song on Instagram, much less write a music blog.
But every January, after the year-end hype dies down, I reel myself in a little. I remind myself that listening to music is a hobby. If anything, it should be bringing my anxiety levels down, not contributing to them. This year, I’m trying to adopt that mindset BEFORE I go into a tailspin. I couldn’t resist writing down some albums I definitely want to get to at some point, but I’m not going to rush through them just for the sake of checking an imaginary box.
I know there are plenty of people out there who don’t give a damn about the music they listened to and the music they didn’t. But I also know I’m not alone:
If you’re a fellow member of that 42%, try and remember why you listen to music in the first place. For most of us, music is an escape from the worries of the world, so don’t stress too much about statistics, or guilty pleasures, or being a completionist. Like what you like, and don’t give a damn about what anyone else thinks.
Now let’s see if I can follow my own advice.
Lyle B.
P.S. Apologies to Hanson. “MMMBop” is a masterpiece.
