For over a year, I defined my music taste as sad.
I kicked off the beginning of 2023 with Mitski and concluded it by shuffling Cigarette After Sex’s discography in the fall. In the middle, “Chinese Satellite” by Phoebe Bridgers was my vacation song of the summer. Simultaneously, Stranger in the Alps (Deluxe Edition) by Bridgers was one of my designated shower albums in June, along with Preacher’s Daughter by Ethel Cain in August. As the soundtrack to working out, I played the most pining tracks from the depths of Lorde’s discography.
After months of listening to my comforting playlists on repeat, it dawned on me how much I was, unintentionally, suffocating myself.
Maybe this is obvious: music can influence your moods.
Sad music can encourage wallowing in depression. Calm music may induce a sense of ease. Nostalgic pop hits might trigger foot tapping and bring a smile to the face.
For as basic as these facts are, I took them much too lightly for the weight they hold.
Until recently, I hadn’t really considered that the artists I listen to are more than just names that show up on my Spotify Wrapped every year. Although, subconsciously, I was aware that the music I listened to could influence my mood, I had never really made the connection that this wasn’t just a general statement; it could actually apply to me.
This realization hit me after a year of undoubtedly being one of Bridger’s biggest listeners and streaming downcast music much more than I ever listened to any one of my “good mood” playlists.
It finally hit me that, maybe, I would feel rejuvenated if the primary music I was consuming wasn’t self-deprecating. Constantly singing the songs stuck in my head—about heartbreak and regret and missing people and betting on losing dogs—was subconsciously channeling these messages into my brain and overshadowing my own thoughts.
There is doubtlessly a time and a place for low-spirited playlists, but it should never be every day.
Upon making resolutions for the new year, among a myriad of other goals, I decided I would experiment with listening to more uplifting music, just to see if there could be a correlation to how I felt and acted.
That semi-absent-minded decision has been, more than almost anything else, the most influential factor for my 2024.
After listening to more upbeat music, I know that I could never go back to streaming slow-paced, gloomy songs because of the depressing shadow it cast over my perception of things.
By exchanging “Punisher” by Bridgers for “Caring Is Creepy” by The Shins, trading out “Me & My Dog” by Boygenius for “Pretty In Possible” by Caroline Polachek, and swapping out some of Lana Del Rey’s more defeatist tracks for ones that lie on the idealistic side of the spectrum, I changed the course of my 2024.
I feel like I have more energy, spend less time wallowing in every potential negative aspect of my life, and am more self-assured. While some of this is due to the tempo of the music I’ve adopted, just as much can be attributed to the lyrics, the words that are subliminally guiding my disposition.
While music might not be the be-all and end-all solution to happiness for everyone, it is one of the most integral places to start, especially for self-proclaimed music connoisseurs such as myself.
What I want to say is this: don’t let the music you listen to ruin your life.
