Julia Wiewiórka

Streaming platforms, such as Spotify and Apple Music, use algorithms, which were supposed to be revolutionary tools for democratization and artistic exploration. Instead, they become a mechanism that curates and confines. Because of that, we are constantly fed what we already are familiar with, which is hidden under the excuse of personalization.

The original idea behind music algorithms was to expose listeners to sounds which would previously be hidden from their limited circle of musical experiences. This perfect solution was built on an illusion supported with mathematical objectivity, yet it collapses under the weight of the collective data, which is needed for those systems to work. What this kind of an algorithm does is study our listening habits: everything from what music we listen to at a certain time of the day to the amount of skips we do. Later on, it translates them into prediction rates of engagement and retentions, and by doing so, it erodes curiosity. Those algorithms offer us diluted novelty in the form of songs that differ slightly either in rhythm or tone but remain indistinguishable when it comes to emotions that music creates.

This algorithmic approach to music curation has a deleterious effect on us. It traps us in a digital cocoon where every melody and beat is calibrated to our past rather than guiding us towards a potential new musical discovery. Because those algorithms favor familiarity over new sounds, listening shifts from exploring a variety of genres, which is achieved through skipping songs, to confirmation. The listener, once an active seeker, turns into a passive consumer that relinquishes agency for comfort of convenience.

The development of music in this new era shows that when discovery is confined to the patterns of one’s behaviors, it becomes a contradiction. This oxymoron is wrapped with the aesthetics of innovations and the rhetoric of creating a better experience for the costumers.

Our playlists mirror an even deeper crisis: if we only encounter the things that we already enjoy, do we truly stumble across anything new? Or does the accidental eschew create the negative consequences connected to ennui?

The algorithm sanitizes the randomness that once made the process of discovering music magical. It replaces the serenity of radio, record stores, and even friends’ recommendations with the precision of data-based suggestions. The downfall of those programs is its technical perfection achieved through striping away the humanlike impulse of wander. We find ourselves between the promises and reality. What was intended as a refinement of taste, now has turned into restraint on imagination.

Knowing all those problems, we should ask ourselves how we can solve them and if we even know what to do to step out of this zone of confirmation. If we want to encounter the unfiltered sounds and the messiness of it all, we should go back to what many generations before us did. Only by leaving the algorithms we can rediscover the fragile art of listening.