mixtape #2: listen in order

how i accidentally became a full-time playlist curator at 19 and playlists as a form of storytelling

Listen while you read

You listen to a song for the first time. It’s five minutes long, and you sit in silence while the landscape outside the train window passes you by. You see rolling hills, a brighter green than you’ve ever seen, the occasional herds of cows and sheep gathering, lazily grazing for their meals.

The song ends, and you know you want to save it to your music arsenal. You’re left with some choices:

a) Just like it and leave it alone
b) Throw it into a random playlist where you save all your songs
c) Throw it into a specific playlist for a specific mood
d) Throw it into an ultra-specific playlist for an ultra-specific mood in a particular order, and listen to your 3-hour-long playlist all the way through to make sure it’s in the right spot

My parents used to have this colossal desktop computer, the chunky old-school type that you don’t see much anymore ever since Mac’s sleek replacements, and I figured out how to burn CDs on there pretty early on. Downloading YouTube songs to MP3 off of sketchy websites full of pop-up ads and viruses, opening up iTunes to drag each song over, one by one, to the CD folder that sat on my desktop. I had a mixtape for every mood. I’d make CDs for friend’s birthdays, tailored to their music taste, throwing in some extra songs that reminded me of them. Sometimes, if I had the time to put even more thought into it, I could scribble onto the finished mixtape in permanent marker: listen in order.

I’ve always loved when an ending feels like an ending. When the curtains draw closed on a play, the end credits play the perfect song, a book ties up all its loose ends in a single, final line. The main character looks up at the sky, and without any need for dialogue, you know exactly what they’re thinking. The screen goes black.

It’s always been challenging to find the perfect ending in my writing—they say that no good writer ever thinks their work is complete, or something like that—but it felt straightforward regarding my playlists. I fell in love with the flow of it; when one song smoothly transitioned to another, and another, and the grand finale would loop it right back around.

In my sophomore year of college, I got a job at a nearby coffee shop where all my friends would regularly study. The shop let the baristas on duty log into their Spotify accounts on the iPad and play whatever they wanted, as long as it was pretty PG and wouldn’t garner any complaints. I made one specifically for when I clocked in and titled it, “i’m the cool barista at the coffee shop.” At the time, it was the only one on Spotify with that title, but some copycat playlists have since popped up, which was very flattering. While on shift, I constantly got compliments on my chosen songs.

I started making more and more playlists, just for myself. Dealing with significant writer’s block but still wanting to find a way to tell a story, I started doing it through playlists. I’d write out the plot in my notes app first before choosing the perfect songs to go along with it: a conversation between a cynic and a dreamer, unrequited love, various playlists based on the plot of different fictional characters, what I imagined healthy love to feel like, and many more. And then there was the one that accidentally launched my temporary career as a playlist curator—a 3-hour long, dystopian, enemies-to-lovers themed playlist.

I feel embarrassed to admit that—it’s so Wattpad, which isn’t the worst thing, but definitely isn’t what I go for in my writing. But it was so much fun to make, and isn’t that what lover tropes are all about? I’d listen to music for hours, and when I felt the need to write an actual scene from this story in my head and my Spotify, I’d play a specific song on a loop, over and over and over, until the scene felt exactly how the music sounded. It got to the point that I blasted Francis Forever by Mitski too loud in my dorm room for about 30 minutes while writing a fight scene, and someone left a note on my door asking me if I was okay. (I’m fine! Let me listen to Mitski in peace!)

I made a separate TikTok account for my playlists on a whim, not thinking it would go anywhere. But I’d spent so much time on my playlists that I’d be happy if someone, anyone, took the time to listen. They really did feel like the full-fledged novels they were in my head. I was creating audiobooks for folks to listen to, a DIY musical, and I was proud of the effort and thought I’d put into them. So I posted a couple of TikToks and was shocked when one reached over 100k views overnight, which led to my Spotify gaining thousands of followers and likes on my playlists. I was even more surprised when, that same day, an ad for a company looking for playlist curators came across my feed. And I decided, why not?

Once my profile was approved, the gig was relatively simple and incredibly fun. Artists would send me their songs to potentially be put on my playlists, and I’d be paid to review them, regardless of whether or not I liked them enough to save them. I got the hang of it pretty quickly, carefully listening to song after song, and I chose to emphasize production design in my reviews since I believed (and still do) it could make or break a song. I initially thought that all the songs I received were by independent artists until I began to receive pieces by Ne-Yo and Maroon 5, which blew my mind. Artists started following me on Instagram, and I would often speak over DM with a famous band’s lead singer’s brother (their hit song was a childhood staple of mine, and it was bizarre that there were only two degrees of separation between myself and the creator of such an iconic song).

My playlist addiction became my full-time freelance job for nearly two years. When I went home for the summer after my college year ended, I’d initially planned on getting a part-time job, but then found that I didn’t need one since I got paid more than enough for my playlists. I could sit in my room and work on my playlists all day, and I could actually call it my job. I couldn’t believe my luck, and I was grateful for it. But they always tell you not to make your hobby your job, right? Because, oftentimes, you lose your passion for it.

After nearly two years, it stopped paying as well as it used to, and I found new things I loved besides the constant curation of my precious playlists. I’d defeated my writer’s block and could tell stories with my pen again. But my love for music only grew. I had better taste and a better ear for the technicalities that made good music good.

Storytelling and music go hand in hand, and it’s an artform that I’ve noticed resurfacing again lately. Music videos have meaning again. Songs have plots and hidden messages, and I wonder why we ever stopped, but I’m glad to contribute to its renaissance. I don’t get paid for it anymore, but now and then, when I have the time, I sit down and make a playlist for a loved one. I make a playlist for every story and poem that comes to mind. I write in the description: listen in order.

Sorry for the delay on this one! I initially wanted to write on Spotify playlists as diaries but found that the topic wasn’t speaking to me as much as I wanted to. It gave me immediate writer’s block, but once I switched the topic to this, the words just flowed out of me, and I actually had to cut out paragraphs to make it the 5 minutes I promised these articles would be. And since I’m already late in giving this to you, I figured I might as well hand it over on a Friday instead of a Sunday! My apology gift to you <3 As usual, you can vote for the next topic on my Instagram story, coming to you soon.

I take the New Year very seriously, so as the end of the year approaches, stay tuned with my Instagram for vision board inspo, resolutions, and more. Time for a new beginning.

P.S. Thank you for the love on my social media lately. I’ve had insane growth lately and I’m so grateful. More to come, always!

✮ Paula ✮