Ghost-of-a-Chance

I’ve said countless times before, on various platforms, that I’ve given Spotify an identity crisis with how varied my listening habits are. My 2025 Wrapped dropped the other day, and hoo-boy. It’s a mess.

My most listened to songs were Labour (Cacophony) and Rasputin; I play them on repeat as background noise while editing so the whine of all the electronics, the sound of the furnace, and even my own breathing won’t drive my misophonic ass bonkers. (I’ve tried countless other sounds, playlists, and various colors of noise, but it all either irritates my ears – my hearing is mildly fucked – or it has “water” sounds that make me need to pee every five minutes. The best substitute I’ve found is, oddly enough, a celtic band that combines bagpipes with hide drums, but I have to tweak the hell out of my sound settings to make it not painful.) My most listened to artist, on the other hand, was Steeleye Span; I listen to a custom folk playlist when I’m trying to write or edit for a certain story that isn’t going anywhere, and it’s disproportionately full of Steeleye Span. My most listened to playlist, however, is 11+ hours of nonstop oldies; it’s “safe” for when I’m outside, with family, or both. Because it’s gotten so much play, the app pegged me as over 70 years old. My second-most listened to list is full of punk, emo, and nu-metal, so I guess it assumed I’m letting my nonexistent grandbaby mooch off my account. I’m a millennial. They just stopped carding me. Ouch.

I feel like I should apologize for gaslighting the app, but...yeah. Nah. I’ve got work to do and my brain is working against me enough. (You sure make me do a whole lotta labour.)