Chapter 6: The Playlist

Maybe I shouldn’t have made a playlist. I figured I’d want one. For the long stretches of open road, I’d need one. Besides, I’m old enough to fully appreciate that playlists are possible.

When I was a teenager, I’d lie awake waiting for Detroit DJs to play certain songs. One summer night, I stayed up until two in the morning waiting to hear the Temptations’ “Psychedelic Shack.”

Now, I can watch multiple versions of it on YouTube. Or I can add it to a playlist and listen to it whenever I feel like it. And I can listen privately. I’m not sure I want people to know I dug “Psychedelic Shack.”

I grew up feeling ashamed of what I liked. I had a loving family but not always a nice one. My brothers and sisters would ridicule me (and each other) for having any kind of outlier interest.

“What are you watching?!”

“What are you wearing?!”

“What are you eating?!”

“What are you doing?!”

“You like that?!”  

So one vital lesson I tried to teach kids was to avoid insulting other’s tastes. “If your friend thinks burritos are great, but you think they’re gross, keep it to yourself.”

“If someone enjoys a song, movie, subject, or sport that you don’t, it’s ok. Let them like it without you ridiculing it. If you can keep your thoughts from becoming your words, you’ll more likely be the kind of person others want to be around.”

People don’t like being with people who tease their tastes. One of my favorite former students, Praveena, used to say, “Don’t yuck my yum.” 

Because I grew up having my yums yucked, I became guarded. I’m still not comfortable sharing my likes and interests. But on a solo car trip I could listen to whatever I wanted without anyone insulting my choices.

My playlist included:

1950s — Buddy Holly, Elvis, Frank Sinatra

1960s — The Beatles, The Seekers, The Beach Boys

1970s — Cat Stevens, John Denver, Bob Marley

1980s — Lionel Richie, Rod Stewart, The Police

1990s — Paula Cole, Backstreet Boys, NSYNC

21st Century — Coldplay, Pink, Alicia Keys

Showtunes — Rent, Oliver, Aida

In all, I had 268 songs, but somewhere in rural Texas I realized that every one of them made me cry. Or feel like crying.

I’ve reached the age where quick recall is a challenge.

What’s this guy’s name?

Where did I put my phone?

Where did I leave my glasses?  

Why did I come into this room?

On the other hand, super specific moments from my past (starting from when I was around two) have been forever seared into my memory. It’s a blessing and a curse.  

You know how a song can instantly transport you to the time and place where you first heard it? That was me with my playlist. Teleporting to Ohio when I was 5, running around our living room while listening to my big brother, JT, play “Everyday” by Buddy Holly. Alone in my room as a 17-year-old in Michigan, listening to Cat Stevens’s “Peace Train.” At the peak of my teaching career in the Bay Area, listening to NSYNC’s “Bye, Bye, Bye” at the 8th grade promotion dance…

No matter what the memory, no matter what part of my past a song took me to, I’d feel sad. The good times because that time (and the people who were part of it) are gone. The bad times because they were bad.

So I turned to podcasts and audiobooks. Instead of wallowing in the past, I needed to focus on the present. Nostalgia is cool — in doses. It’s not so great when you’re mostly by yourself for three months.

I’m grateful that I can make playlists, but I wonder about their effect. If we only listen to what we know, how will we grow?

I just searched “the most listened to songs right now.” I didn’t know any of them. I hadn’t heard of half of the singers. I know part of that is because I’m old, but part is because I don’t listen to the radio anymore. Who does? 

Being able to listen to or watch whatever we want whenever we want is a barrier to discovery and an obstruction to growth. Why waste time on something unfamiliar that we might not like when we can so easily retreat to the familiar things we already know we like?

So, I’m trying today’s version of listening to pop radio. I’m creating a playlist where, based on my current tastes, new songs will be suggested. (An obvious idea, I’m sure, for younger people, but a whole new thing for older people like me.) Music taste is so personal that I’m not sure an algorithm will get it right, but I’m open to trying because I’m open to growing.

Still.  

Lessons from The Playlist

* Don’t yuck yums. Sounds simple, but it isn’t easy.

* Be like the two body parts that never stop growing — our ears and nose. Use them to listen to and sniff out the new. Whether it’s music, books, movies, activities, or anything else that interests you, don’t always retreat to the comfortable and familiar. Remember Jay’s lesson (Chapter 5).