I track my life through playlist titles
The highlight of receiving my first phone wasn’t the promise of complete privacy, but the ability to download my favorite tracks to listen to whenever I pleased. Though long gone are my days of painstakingly using YouTube to MP3 converters — a popular method of music listening around 2015 — I continue to curate playlists using a similar, tedious process.
We all know the feeling of handpicking songs from different artists, time periods and genres that manage to fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces. It’s satisfying, to say the least, but finding one word or phrase to title the sea of emotions the songs imbibe can be borderline impossible.
I have gone down this rabbit hole many times. I have a catalog of songs that make me believe that I am on the precipice of something great, like the first day of summer when you’re unsure of what the next three months hold, but you sense in your bones that it’ll be an unforgettable experience. It’s akin to the first lick of ice cream in the scorching heat; as the taste of sweet chocolate fills your mouth, you eagerly anticipate the next lick, which will only taste better. To encapsulate this playlist’s sensations, should I go with something basic like “Excitement,” be philosophical with “The Best Is Yet to Come” or be quirky with simply “Ice Cream”?
Tackling this daunting task is no easy feat and my methods to address it have changed over the years.
As an unoriginal ninth grader, I took the most common approach to naming my playlists: based on my mood. This is similar to how Apple Music labels the playlists it curates for you (yes, I, unfortunately, am not a Spotify baby). While moods do have a perfect balance — the terms are broad enough to cover a plethora of songs but not so vague that there is no correlation between music and title — it fails to capture who you are. Today, when I make a playlist, I want the name to reflect me; it shouldn’t be something that thousands of people could own.
Yet, as I was barely a teen and entering a new school with no friends, I prioritized not embarrassing myself. So, as a safety precaution in case anyone asked for my playlists, I named them after my moods. Naturally, I would have rather shared “sad” than “music I listen to at 4 am while crying over the ending of the notebook for the fifth time.”
But, as I grew comfortable with an accepting friend group, I dared to change how I titled my playlists. Inspired by the approach detailed in one of my favorite books, “Every Last Word” by Tamara Ireland Stone, I keenly listened to the lyrics of all the songs and then cherry-picked three words that stood out and could encapsulate the playlist.
As a 15-year-old going through her emo phase, I embraced this method with my playlist titled “Fall, burn, imperfections.” With songs such as “Coaster” by Khalid and “Sad Forever” by Lauv, let’s just say that I thought no one understood my struggles. This playlist’s title reflected this feeling of not being understood — no one was going to understand the meaning behind those three words except for me.
However, using a mere three words, or even a line, is tricky and as the pit of my teenage angst deepened, words weren’t doing my emotions justice. I turned to the age-old saying, “A picture is worth a thousand words,” and decided to use emojis. So what would I call a playlist I listened to on self-care nights while debating my life choices? The nail polish emoji followed by the tornado emoji, of course.
In these trying times, emojis were a great way to voice my emotions and thoughts that I couldn’t put into words. The titles were short and digestible, yet, like a well-written poem, they had a lot of hidden meaning.
When senior year started, it was time to pull up my socks. I needed playlists that inspired me to do something, whether it was to exercise, finish homework or even relax. I began adding verbs to all my playlists. Instead of “banger music,” it was “get up and dance.” Instead of “music that I listen to while studying,” it was “stop procrastinating, Edhita!” I found that attaching a specific action to the music was rather effective in compelling me to work.
But today, when I reflect on these experiences, I realize that I was so caught up in worrying about the future, whether it was getting into a good college or maintaining a perfect GPA, that I forgot to live in the moment. In comes my latest tryst with titling playlists: the “be-in-the-moment” approach. Here, the playlist is named after a very specific point in time and contains songs that would play in the background, like in movies.
I don’t listen to the music only when that moment arises, but rather in situations that evoke the same emotions. For example, “songs to listen to when I meet the LOML” aren’t songs I will only listen to when I meet my perfect match. Instead, I listen to it anytime when I am in the mood for romantic and sappy music.
Even though I have clearly changed over time, the perfectionist in me has stayed the same. So I understand when something like making a playlist, which is supposed to be fun and relaxing, turns into something stressful. But I’ll let you in on a little secret: There’s no single “right” title. Do what comes naturally and trust that you will find one that works for you. And, worst case scenario, if you don’t, it’s okay. Just listen to my playlist “When even chocolate doesn’t make things better.”