File Sharing

A friend recently gave me a mixtape (a mixed CD really, but you know what I mean). My husband will occasionally make me a playlist of all the new songs he has bought on iTunes, but it has been years since someone made me a proper  mixtape and  I was delighted. When I listened to it, my mind was already running ahead to the mix I would make in return (because that’s how these things work). A song I put on my mental list, one of my favorites, happened to be the next track my friend had chosen. Eureka! Another kindred spirit in the world. But even better than discovering our sameness, there were a few tracks from artists I hadn’t listened to before. I am now obsessed with  two of the songs (just ask my kids, who are walking around humming the tunes).  I also had the fun of making a mix myself, reminding me how much I love certain bands and songs. (Note to readers: if you’ve OD’d on The Shins or the Once soundtrack, don’t panic, a little break is all you need to bring back the love.) In fact, the unexpected pleasure of this mixtape exchange  has renewed my dampened enthusiasm and got me thinking about the communal pleasure of sharing music.

Of course, mixtapes were a significant part of my adolescence and most of my romantic relationships. I haven’t had a cassette player for years, but I still have most of my tapes, nestled among old love letters, every bit as precious and tender. As a young woman, I used to worry about the influence boys had on my taste. I was wary of adopting their cultures too completely and losing my sense of self. Now, I’m grateful that, even if our relationships didn’t survive, my love  for Black Sabbath, Billy Bragg, or the Smiths does.

But boyfriends weren’t the only ones to impact my musical life. My iTunes library is an autobiography of all my relationships.   There is the musical theater from my parents, the Tori Amos and Ani DiFranco from one of my oldest friends.   The Outkast and Lupe Fiasco came from my Hip-hop loving brothers — we have, since our teens, been doing musical cultural exchanges, like the Judgment  Night soundtrack, which brought alternative bands and rappers, like Cypress Hill and Sonic Youth, together. There is the jazz, Steve Earle and Belle and Sebastian, which I listened to with my friend Aaron (while my husband scoffed at us because of the lack of guitar riffs or synthesizers).  

There are also so many bands I’ve discovered or reconsidered because of a friend’s advice. For instance, I first listened to Bright Eyes eight or nine years ago after reading rave reviews in Rolling Stone and Spin. At the time, it didn’t move me. Years later, a trusted friend, whose taste is eerily similar to my own, suggested I give Bright Eyes another  chance, with the caveat that I should listen with headphones and no distractions. I was seriously smitten the second time around. I could go on and on — the point is that the people in my life have made a huge impact on my musical life.

I’ve noticed sometimes in the comments that readers mention they don’t know half the artists and songs I’m talking about.  I understand what that’s like. Having spent lots of Saturdays wandering around bookstores or garage sales with my dad, who was always hunting for unusual original cast recordings or film soundtracks on records, I was no stranger to the collector personality. However, my first mixtapes came from punk rock boys who insisted that obscure first albums or grainy badly dubbed tracks you’ve never heard of were always the best. They always knew more than you and took great pleasure in asserting their superior taste and knowledge. This fetishism, which I dubbed “punk rock elitism” at the time, always bugged me. In hindsight I understand that they were just kids trying to figure out how to be cool, but it’s depressing how often that mentality sticks with people into adulthood. Personally, I’m not interested in jealously guarding my knowledge of music, as though it will be tainted or lessened by sharing. I understand the pleasure of unearthing a treasure on your own, but I truly enjoy spreading the love.

When is the last time you made someone a mixtape? Received one? Do you have rules about who you give them to and how you make them? How have others impacted your libraries?

(All the images are from High Fidelity, which you music nerds already knew. And, yes I do think about the narrative arc or mood when making a mixtape)

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