A few weeks ago, I found myself looking for something to listen to. I browsed my Spotify Release Radar, scrolled through my hundreds of playlists and even took a peek at the newest unhinged “daylist” the algorithm had generated. Nothing spoke to me. Every song sounded the same, and even the projects I always enjoyed were starting to sour. I couldn’t find anything to deliver the dopamine I needed. Horrified, I realized that I was treating my love for music like an Instagram Reels doomscroll.
With the recent rise of artificial intelligence, we’ve all been thinking more about how technology has, and will continue to, affect the way we interact with artists and their music. While algorithms and streaming have revolutionized music discovery, other facets of our music consumption — such as owning physical music, sitting through albums front to back and digging through record shop crates — have disintegrated under this new system. We’re at the height of convenience, accessibility and personalized curation, but these perks may come at the cost of the intentionality of our listening. If music is art, why are we treating it like a single-use product?
On one hand, there are countless ways that algorithmic culture, or the effect of offloading cultural work onto computational processes, has benefited both artists and listeners. Features like Spotify’s Discover Weekly, customized playlists and autoplay not only help music fans discover new songs, but can also provide a new way for smaller, independent artists to gain exposure. For a monthly subscription fee the same price of a coffee and a croissant, users have unlimited access to more than 100 million tracks. Streaming platforms have also reduced many of the barriers to entering the music industry; it has never been easier to go viral with a simple soundbite or to get discovered on a curated playlist. On Spotify, anyone is able to sign up for an artist profile, and those who do have full control over their account — including access to their streaming data, engagement and demographics — are able to find out more about their audience. In a pre-streaming world, all this was next to impossible.
However, as technology and music become one and the same, streaming platforms face continuous backlash for their unethical practices. Spotify, in particular, has been widely criticized for its unfair artist compensation, and over the last six months, its co-founder and CEO Daniel Ek has come under fire for spearheading almost $700 million in investments for drones and AI-powered military operations. While algorithms appear to make everything easier, their primary goal has always been to fill the pockets of those controlling them.
By taking the burden of actively searching for new music off the listener, streaming and algorithmic culture have turned music into a vessel for rampant consumerism. The overwhelming access to so many tracks may even make users feel as if they need these algorithms in order to make good use of their listening experience. In an article for i-D Magazine, writer Nick Otte explains how algorithms have impacted his relationship to music.
“Because it was offered up to me on an algorithmic platter, I no longer had to think about where my music came from, what choices went into it, who had helped me to find it, or where I might choose to turn next. The kinds of active, engaged thoughts I once valued and even relied on.”
Otte also quotes a former Spotify employee who stated that the whole goal of the platform’s recommendation system is to “reduce cognitive work.” People can now skip around albums freely or listen mindlessly to AI-generated lo-fi hip-hop beats for hours at a time, treating music as an in-between task — something to fill up your brain while walking to class or waiting for the bus, but scarcely as an activity to spend quality time alone with, an experience to sink your teeth into. Ultimately, the ability to find and listen to good music anytime has degraded our perception of how it is meant to be consumed. In the pilot episode of “That ‘70s Show,” Jackie asks her boyfriend Michael, “Hey Michael, wanna go back to my house and listen to Todd Rundgren records?” Decades later, have you ever heard anyone say, “Hey, wanna go back to my house and stream songs on Spotify?”
Of course, it doesn’t have to be this way. Going to concerts, browsing record stores and making meaningful connections through music are in no way mutually exclusive with having a Spotify subscription. And for those who were always inspired to seek out new music or build communities, algorithms indubitably make it easier to do so. But it would be difficult to claim that the way streaming platforms are designed encourages the slower, more laborious path of forging relationships with music. When it comes to music, the beauty lies in the details, and choosing quick consumption over deliberate connection may cause us to miss crucial aspects of projects we might’ve otherwise fallen in love with.
AI has been used in Spotify algorithms well before the recent AI-driven panic, having worked quietly behind the scenes to deliver personalized music recommendations for more than a decade. As AI becomes further integrated into our listening experience, it will not only continue to assist in recommending music but also in analyzing trends and predicting breakout artists, helping to facilitate industry movements.
On the surface, this system may seem harmless — who would say no to a flawlessly curated stream of songs that aligns perfectly with your tastes and current interests? But the role of AI as both a music tastemaker and gatekeeper raises questions. If “good music” is defined by an algorithm, artists may begin creating only to optimize their work for engagement and virality, a phenomenon which has already been seen with TikTok’s trend-driven algorithm. Further, the question of whether our taste can truly be original is another concern. If every recommendation is determined for us by a statistical system, how much agency do we actually have over our own listening habits, interests and even the connections we form based on these shared preferences?
As AI and algorithmic culture become inescapable, it is more important and valuable than ever to embrace our humanity — something AI can never get quite right. An AI DJ can feed us the statistically next best song to listen to, but real people with unique tastes, opinions and backgrounds can give us something even better: community. Razor-sharp algorithms, limitless song selection and personalized music curation are advantageous and enjoyable features, but they don’t even scratch the surface of all there is to experience and explore in the musical world, no matter how much streaming services try to convince us otherwise. Good music is more than just a steady rhythm and a catchy melody — it captures our ability to fully connect with another person (or ourselves!) through sound. It isn’t wrong to value convenience, but when it comes to an art form that encompasses all the world’s emotions, thoughts, beliefs and experiences — when it comes to music with soul — is convenience what we really want?
Daily Arts Contributor Lane Liu can be reached at liuisa@umich.edu.
