I Listen to Music Better Than You Do.

Article and Photo by Tara Mullaney

Ding dong, bing bong! It’s the most wonderful time of the year: Spotify Wrapped! I can’t wait to log into my account that I totally pay for each and every month. A family account that I’m 100% not leeching off of from a friend who called me fat in middle school. Reparations, I say. You give me body image issues, I steal your Spotify. Now, let’s get into the nitty-gritty details, shall we? What did this wondrous year of music bring us this time around, hmm?

You listened for 44,945 minutes this year. Fuck those missing 55 minutes all the way to hell. I wanted 50K, but could’ve at least settled for 45. Note for next year, listen to Massage Tribes “60 Minutes of Zen Flute Meditations (For Massage Music, Spa, Reiki, Meditation & Healing)” just to be sure. I am not weak. I am strong. Namaste. 

January was your Hallyu Western K-Pop Phase. Okay, hold on now. Just because I cried to EXO in the car once, does not give you permission to rake me over the coals. I did my time on stan twitter. It’ll be a cold, wet day in hell when I finally open that part of myself again, I say, as I stare at my albums and photo cards like a mother who lost a child to war. (I did. They all got drafted.)

February was your Theatrical Rock-Ish Dark Cabaret season. What the fuck do those words even mean? I have never, and I mean never, starred in a theatrical production, wanted to star in a theatrical production, or wanted to watch a theatrical production. I may be a film major, but I haven’t seen Wicked and don’t plan to. You stare at me through a waterfall of tears, “B-But they’re singing it live!” I don’t care. I’m too busy staring at Liz Gillies’ Instagram account to give a shit. 

June was your Mcbling Cheerleading Pop moment. Chappell Roan. Next!

Wait, what? That’s it? No, “You have the same music taste as a toxic throuple in Portland, Oregon,”? No, “Your top genre this year was Minecraft Pedophiles!” Alright, actually. We can do without that one.

Will I admit that this Spotify Wrapped was a bit… lackluster this time around? Yes. Am I so upset that I’ll book a consultation with the state of the art Student Health Services? No. Because I don’t care about the theatrics, as I’ve stated previously. I care about the essence of what this day’s really about:

Judging the ever-living fuck out of other people.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, “Tara, that’s mean.” “Tara, let people like what they like.” “Tara, get your fat ass off my Spotify so I can give your account to my brother.”

I have to deal with you people going on, and on, and on, and on, and on, about absolutely everything, and absolutely nothing. Every. Single. Day. Give me this. Give me this one goddamn thing to make fun of you for.

Taylor Swift? Bitch, please. If she’s your number one artist this year, you shouldn’t be at BU. You’re 35 years old and my cousin. If this stereotype doesn’t apply to you: Congratulations! Explain to me, in 250 words, why her music isn’t a bland cash-grab and please text your assignment to 617-353-3569 with your full name and BUID Number. Our staff will be there to help you immediately. 

If you have less than 20,000 minutes I can, and will step on you. You are an ant underneath my toes, wiggling around like a…uh…an ant under my toes? I don’t know, I picked a bad analogy for this.

“But, I have 175,000 minutes!” You say, eyes crinkling at the sides. You smile deviously to get under my skin, but it won’t work. It never will. Listening to music while you sleep DOESN’T COUNT! 

“Why–?” Because I said so, now go to your room. “Aww…”

Private session? Fuck you. I know you listen to Panic at the Disco and you like it. Brendan Urine, or whatever his name is, has the voice of an angel who was just shoved into a trash compactor behind my On-Campus Apartment. I think I can still hear him trying to hit that high note in Emperor's New Clothes. Oh well, just more content for my “Hilarious Brendon Urie, More Like Brendan Urine, High Notes Fail Compilation,” that’s been taking the internet by storm.

I just got off the phone with Mr. Spotify himself. You’ll never believe this but he said that I’m doing an incredible job. I’m the best listener there ever was. Not too little, not too much, a delightful mix of niche and mainstream. He’s never seen anything like it. In fact, I’ve just been invited to lead a TedTalk on “Why I Listen to Music Better Than You Do.” All I have to do is write an outline for what I want to say, practice my diamond presentation stance, and then–!

Who was my top artist? Oh, uh, nobody important. You wouldn’t know them.