Spotify’s Got Me All F**ked Up

silly goose, your body

As many of you know this weekend was a very special weekend. I realized that I had a free Spotify premium membership just waiting for me out in the ethers. I promptly, filled out the necessary information and like the resurrection of Christ himself, the sweet nectar that is my old Spotify playlist has RISEN! Can I get an amen!

[If this is all some foreign tech babble that you don’t understand. You’re life has no meaning. I mean okay, so it probably has meaning but you are barely living. At the very least you need to get the free version of Spotify, which is the Limewire of this decade. I have been trudging though the perils of the free version for the past six months. Six long terrible months. No, I’m not being dramatic.]

Here’s what I wasn’t ready for. The onslaught of songs that have now become so terribly sad because my life circumstances have dramatically changed.

Music that you continually listen to through life changes and expanses of time evolve with you. That smooth love song that you and what’s his face used to grove to in the living room, well now that’s the song that you shake your fine single behind to when making dinner. All is well.

But those songs that you haven’t touched in you don’t know how long, those will jump right out of your ear buds and sucker punch you in the gut. Damn. I would like to send a personal f-you to Damien Rice, Citizen Cope, Bill Withers, Fiest, Paolo Nutini, and Joss Stone herself. You can shove Super Duper Love up your arse.

This isn’t news to any of you who have weathered the storm of heart break or what you thought was heart break in your teenage years, Coldplay knew just how to say it didn’t they. Our brains are hard-wired to connect music with our longterm memory, speaking of being able to recite every Will Smith album ever from heart… adding that to my resume right meow.

The hippocampus (that little bitch) is likely the culprit here. It mediates both memory formation and emotions. So here we are sobbing between Amos Lee songs. I’ve got bad news for those recovering from crushed dreams and the promise of forever love even patients with very advanced Alzheimer’s can go into deep emotional recall at the drop of one Ludacris song. Okay, so What’s Your Fantasy probably isn’t bumpin’ on the dementia wing, but ya know.

 

 

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