Spotify Playlist Quotes

I sneak a peek at his Spotify playlist, half certain it’ll be all just white noise or classic orchestral music, only to find Taylor Swift’s latest album playing instead.

Christopher turned the volume up on the MP3 player strapped to his arm and ran to the beat of his Spotify playlist. Adele was the next artist to shuffle on and he wondered why all killers depicted in television dramas only ever listened to angry, shouty, heavy metal music—in the same way that all fictitious black criminals only ever listened to rap. Nobody ever killed or robbed a bank to the sounds of Rihanna or Justin Bieber.

There’s something almost therapeutic about the simple, repetitive motions, working alone in the peace of my room at night, smoothing out the thin squares of paper again and again under my palms, my Spotify playlist on loop in the background, the playlist Zoe and I made together before I left, with all our favorite artists: Taylor Swift and Jay Chou and BTS.

Turtles don’t have nations. Or flags. Or strategic nuclear weapons. They don’t have terrorism or referendums or trade wars with China. They don’t have Spotify playlists for their workouts. They don’t have books on the decline and fall of turtle empires. They don’t have internet shopping or self-service checkouts. Other animals don’t have progress, they say. But the human mind itself doesn’t progress. We stay the same glorified chimpanzees, just with ever bigger weapons. We have the knowledge to realise we are just a mass of quanta and particles, like everything else is, and yet we keep trying to separate ourselves from the universe we live in, to give ourselves a meaning above that of a tree or a rock or a cat or a turtle.

But instead, the skies overhead are heavy and gray, and everything is dim and dark and moody. I love it. I have an entire Spotify playlist dedicated to this kind of weather.

Just the other night, when I was drafting a blog post, I’d gone to listen to our Spotify playlist, only to find that the name had been changed from “zoe + eliza g8 hits” to “recs for divya.” Which, rationally speaking, is a small thing. Insignificant.

I sat at home on Friday nights and made Spotify playlists that reflected my mood. I laid around on Saturday evenings and binged watched Netflix until half past two. I sat at home and thought about all the things that I wanted to be doing. But my homebody self with social anxiety preferred to live vicariously through the people in those movies.

ambient sounds, or even white noise while you’re working. I wrote 90 percent of this book listening to the Productive Morning playlist on Spotify.

The longer you live, the more you realise that nothing is fixed. Everyone will become a refugee if they live long enough. Everyone would realise their nationality means little in the long run. Everyone would see their worldviews challenged and disproved. Everyone would realise that the thing that defines a human being is being a human. Turtles don't have nations. Or flags. Or strategic nuclear weapons. They don't have terrorism or referendums or trade wars with China. They don't have Spotify playlists for their workouts. They don't have books on the decline and fall of turtle empires. They don't have internet shopping or self-service checkouts. Other animals don't have progress, they say. But the human min itself doesn't progress. We stay the same glorified chimpanzees, just with even bigger weapons. We have the knowledge to realise we are just a mass of quanta and particles, like everything else is, and yet we keep trying to separate ourselves from the universe we live in, to give ourselves a meaning above that of a tree or a rock or a cat or a turtle.

May 19th 2031_ Eleven months before_ I opened my eyes to see darkness and the sound of my alarm beeping. 0400 hours. I turned it off and got up. I looked for my glasses on my bedside cabinet and put them on. "Alexa, Good morning roll," I said loudly in the dark room. The lights came on and the curtains opened, the speaker turned on and started playing my Spotify playlist. I slowly got dressed and made myself breakfast. After breakfast, I downed a 500ml bottle of zero coke. I leaned to one side and burped. I looked around my kitchen. The dark marble counter and white cupboards, walls and ceiling matched with each other. I looked outside the kitchen window at the traffic down below. I was about 6 floors high, if you were to jump off from that high, there is a very high chance you might die. And if you were lucky to survive, you would be immobilised from your broken legs and hip and ribs. I turned around and sat on the black leathery sofa and switched on the TV. I looked on Netflix at old World War Two films that I could watch before bed. I scrolled through the list. From 'Dunkirk' to 'Unbroken' to a lot more films. I chose a couple and switched the TV onto the news. The reporter said that there was a knife crime in Redding earlier. I sighed but was relieved that it wasn't me. It is a low chance that I would get murdered by someone or people with knives in England but it's still a possibility. I turned the TV off and looked at my phone. There was nothing new on Discord and nothing new on WhatsApp. I checked my Snapchat and opened a few Snaps from my friends at work. I took a selfie of myself in my apartment not working. I sent it off and was happy that I don't work on

Most of us, by the time we are Jules’ age, have weathered through several heartbreaks. We become old pros at hurt. Our breakup playlists are saved to Spotify, and we know exactly where to find our comfort ice cream in the freezer section.

Okay, what is this?” she finally blurted. “What?” Nathaniel glanced at her. “The music is all over the place. What are we even listening to?” “Oh, I’m sharing my playlist with my niece on Spotify. She’s ten. So it can be a mixed bag.

I’d do two things. One—I would create a playlist on Spotify of all the songs that I think you would love based on my knowledge of your music taste. Two—I would buy you a journal and ask you to write down what each song made you feel.” Ashley cringed. “I know it sounds a little weird, but I used to do something similar and what I wrote in my journal became some of the best parts of my articles.

a peek at his Spotify playlist, half certain it’ll be all just white noise or classic orchestral music, only to find Taylor Swift’s latest album playing instead.

while fans can burrow deep into rabbit holes of esoterica, “Today’s Top Hits” is still the No. 1 playlist on Spotify, and Pandora’s most popular station is “Today’s Hits.” Even when offered a universe of music, most of us prefer to listen to what we think everyone else is hearing.

The longer you live, the more you realise that nothing is fixed. Everyone will become a refugee if they live long enough. Everyone would realise their nationality means little in the long run. Everyone would see their worldviews challenged and disproved. Everyone would realise that the thing that defines a human being is being a human. Turtles don't have nations. Or flags. Or strategic nuclear weapons. They don't have terrorism or referendums or trade wars with China. They don't have Spotify playlists for their workouts. They don't have books on the decline and fall of turtle empires. They don't have internet shopping or self-service checkouts. Other animals don't have progress, they say. But the human mind itself doesn't progress. We stay the same glorified chimpanzees, just with ever bigger weapons.

Him: Uh-huh. PS—check your email. I sent you a Spotify playlist. Actual music.

I sat at home on Friday nights and made Spotify playlists that reflected my mood.

He drove a gray Honda CR-V and ate six Wendy’s Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers from the Drive-Thru Value Menu. He listened to a Spotify playlist of Ed Sheeran, Death Cab for Cutie, and Coldplay while driving exactly the speed limit with his fedora on the dashboard, hooked atop a plastic hat rack he’d purchased for $9.99 on Amazon.

In the sea of her guests, I feel like an old man, a vintage vinyl in a world of Spotify playlists.

Tip: Spotify have developed a great way for you to share your Spotify information with fans or other artists, by using special codes. Visit SpotifyCodes.com to find out about how these codes can enable you to share information and create marketing materials.

Chartmetric lets you sift through almost every playlist/curator on Spotify, Apple Music, Amazon Music and Deezer. You can filter out Editorial playlists, only seeing independent third party playlists.

In dem Meer ihrer Gäste fühle ich mich wie ein alter Mann, eine alte Schallplatte in einer Welt voller Spotify-Playlists.

And I thought to myself that I'll miss his voice. When this eventually ends—has it already? I'll miss his voice. I want to record it and save it like one of those playlists on Spotify, you know? Like, Songs to sing along in the car to, Songs to cry to, or Songs for rainy days. That's what that playlist would be called—For rainy days. And I'd put that on and listen to his voice, and it would probably make me cry a bit because music does that to me, and now thinking of him, and hearing his voice—only it's just a recording—probably will too.

Music industry defenders of streaming muzak like to point out that artists themselves have been making functional music for decades. The argument usually begins by pointing to Brian Eno’s 1978 Ambient 1: Music for Airports, widely considered the first ambient record, which came with a manifesto outlining how ambient “must be able to accommodate many levels of listening attention without enforcing one in particular; it must be as ignorable as it is interesting.” For example, the cofounder of Endel, a German app that builds on the logic of the functional playlist boom by generating “personalized functional soundscapes,” cites Eno as his biggest influence.10 Today’s functional music front-runners seem to miss something essential about the history of ambient, though, and the traditions it draws from and helped shape. For his part, Eno claims to have conceptualized ambient as a direct response to the cultural pervasiveness of Muzak, rather than a recreation of it. He called ambient music “an atmosphere or a surrounding influence: a tint,” which he created to suit “a wide variety of moods and atmospheres.” In Eno’s explanation of it, consummate artists were not supposed to make background music, and he asked, why not? “I use it to make the space that I want to live in.”11

To promote riding for free, which they saw as a form of strike, and to simultaneously wage a campaign for accessible public transport, they organized a fund akin to DIY insurance: pay 100 krona per month, or about $10, and if you’re caught fare dodging, we’ll cover your ticket.

Streaming, and Spotify in particular, created a music-themed version, where participation was captured, reduced to data points, and used to strengthen a commercial machine, to achieve the financial goals of Spotify and the majors.

In her 2014 book The People’s Platform, the writer and filmmaker Astra Taylor challenged the idea that the so-called digital revolution had democratized culture. In particular, she warned that the same problems of “consolidation, centralization, and commercialism” that defined our old media systems would continue to shape the digital world without a serious reckoning.

In 2003, the U.S. Center for Economic and Policy Research proposed something called the “Artistic Freedom Voucher,” which urged the federal government to dedicate $20 billion dollars to a fund that would give each taxpayer a $100 voucher in the form of a refundable tax credit, which they could voluntarily choose to allocate to a musician or group.

How wrong I turned out to be. I mean, 100 percent wrong. From this idea of ‘let’s challenge these power structures’ came a paradigm shift that just became a new power structure that did not benefit musicians at all. It did not challenge capitalism at all, but became an ultra-capitalist sort of thing.

And once more, we’re not having a serious conversation about the future of music unless we’re talking about public funding, cooperatives, unions, and international solidarity—and unless we realize that the fight for a more liberated and de-commodified cultural sphere is part of the broader struggle for a better world

In the streaming era, the industry had identified a new type of target consumer: the lean-back listener, who was less concerned with seeking out artists and albums, and was happy to simply double click on a playlist for focusing, working out, or winding down.

Musicians were the canaries in the coal mine of the precariat, accomplices in their own swindle (“Thanks @spotify for adding my song to their #BBQParty #playlist!!”);

And platforms mostly only offered the illusion of togetherness. They are not public squares; they’re corporate digital enclosures where your every move is tracked.