“Why do I like the music that I like?”
I have been asking myself some version of this question for the last 20 years of my life. For the last ten of those years a chorus line of code has joined in on the asking.
When Spotify first arrived in the US in July of 2011, it did so wrapped in fanfare and evangelical praise from sites like Metalsucks as a gift to a music industry reeling from a decade of file sharing and increasing internet speeds. It looked like a gift for me too, and not just because my birthday happens to be in July. It promised something like file sharing streamlined. No more navigating impenetrable Russian blogspots, juggling Mediafire links and Rapidshare passwords, all to wait an agonizing 15 minutes for the album to arrive in my iTunes library with mislabeled song names and no track order. Instead, you could type in the name of a record and have it served to you immediately on a sleek green and black platter. The appeal was immediately obvious. “It’s like Netflix for music” I explained to my Dad once that summer, apparently arriving at this elevator pitch without being consulted by a publicist first. So convinced, I installed the free version of Spotify on my Laptop the first day that I could.
At first I used it intermittently. The ads were no fun, and I still had plenty of ill begotten MegaDownloads from sparsely populated MySpace groups to sift through. But iTunes was getting worse every year, and my laptop was starting to get sluggish with all of those files. I could have just gotten serious and bought a more reliable external hard drive. Instead, there was Spotify already on my desktop and beckoning me with its cheap cost and minimal footprint on my CPU.
I liked my first song in June, 2014. Since then I’ve liked 483 more songs. If you’re not familiar with the lingo, this doesn’t mean that I’ve only ever enjoyed listening to 484 songs in the last seven years. It means that I’ve clicked on a little heart icon next to a song that I was listening to, adding the track to a personalized playlist that Spotify calls “Liked Songs”. In doing so I’ve given Spotify information that it has used to generate more personalized playlists for me, and presumably other personalized playlists for people who fit into some overlap of my demographical distribution.
From a musician’s perspective, Spotify is a deeply flawed company. The payouts to musicians, especially those who do not own the entirety of their masters and every part of their distribution, are miniscule. The emphasis on playlists removes music from its intended context. Spotify still has not added anything resembling credits or liner notes to the music on its platform, further decontextualizing the music. Instead of threatening the major label status quo, it has strengthened it. Instead of working towards becoming a stable company Spotify has prioritized growth above all else, swallowing podcast networks and media companies whole in order to become the one-stop-shop for all things audio on the web.
I’ve known all of this for years. I’ve written about it. I’ve grumbled on social media and on podcasts about it. And yet, I’ve never stopped using Spotify. Why? Because it was convenient? Out of some naive belief that maybe things would improve? I can’t justify it, but with your permission I’d like to try.
I’ve given Spotify my money. I’ve given it my data. In return I have these 484 songs.
Why do I like the music that I Liked on Spotify?
To find out, and to get my money’s worth from Spotify, I am going to learn every single one of those 484 songs on drums. I am going to film myself doing so. I am going to write about it here, on this very blog that you are reading now. And once I reach the end of this list of 484 songs I am going to delete my Spotify account.
I call this project Drumming Upstream.
Let’s switch to a Q&A format for the details:
Is this the only thing you’re going to use this newsletter for going forward? I didn’t sign up for this!
A fair question/complaint. No, Drumming Upstream is not going to be the only thing I write about. There are a fair number of songs that will take me more than a week to learn, and others that will take even longer to write about. That means that I’ll still have plenty of open slots to write about other subjects. I’ll also have other projects to talk about, tours to play (*knocks on wood*) and a life to live. Drumming Upstream will be a frequent feature, but it won’t swallow the blog whole.
What will Drumming Upstream posts look like?
Each Drumming Upstream entry will follow the same format. On Side A I will interrogate the song on a personal level in order to answer the question of why I added the song to my Liked list. I’ll consider why I was attracted to the song at the time it was added to the list and I’ll balance that against what I think of it now. Side A will be the music criticism component of Drumming Upstream.
On Side B I will dig into the song as a musician. I’ll break down its form. I’ll learn how to play it on drums. I might include some transcriptions or midi recreations of specific parts of the music. This will get technical, but I’ll try and make the music theory jargon as readable and accessible as I can. Side B will be the music education component of Drumming Upstream.
Finally each post will end with a ranking of the songs covered so far. By the end of the project I will have determined which song in Spotify’s bottomless well I Liked the most.
Why are you doing this?
Well, I’ve noticed over the years that when I write about drumming I tend to get a better reaction on average compared to my other stuff. I also need to put myself out there into the world as a drummer more. I need to learn to get decent at self recording and self filming. Plus I think the concept of learning every single song I Liked on Spotify is catchy enough that it should bring in some new eyeballs.
What about the songs that don’t have drums? Surely you don’t only like music with drums.
This is true! There are a number of songs on this list that don’t have any drums on them. Some of them have drum-approximating percussion, others have no percussion at all. Exactly how I’m going to cover those songs will have to be a case by case situation. All I’ll say is I’m sure I’ll need the break from drumming and will be grateful when I run into the occasional ambient tune.
No, really. Why are you doing this to yourself?
Ok if you’re going to be so insistent about it, here’s why. In 2018 while I was riding the train home from work a man in robes came onto the car and announced himself as God. God told us, the other commuters, that he needed some cash. Most of my fellow commuters asked themselves “what does god need with a starship” and kept their heads down. I, on the other hand, reached into my wallet. I’m no believer, but I’m familiar enough with the outline of Pascal’s Wager and Lamar’s Cost of the Dollar Hypothesis to not risk damnation over something so petty as a loose single. When I gave him the dollar, God looked me straight in the eyes and said “In five years you will find your purpose by combining the three things that you love,” and then moved onto the next train car.
I love writing about music. I love playing drums. And I guess if I’m being honest I love being equally critical of monolithic digital age corporations as I am critical of my past self. By the time I finish up Drumming Upstream it’ll be at least five years since this prediction. Again, I’m not a believer, but I’ll take those odds.
Ok, I think I get the picture. When can we expect the first entry? And what will it cover?
Finger’s crossed, but the first entry will cover “Bobby Jean” by Bruce Springsteen and it should arrive in your inbox next week!