It’s Friday, so I’m checking the new music releases for the week. First perusing Spotify’s Release Radar playlist, which features singles and albums and too many remixes and acoustic versions to be completely useful. Next clicking through the NPR Music’s New Music Friday playlist, also on Spotify, songs from album releases the NPR editors think deserve my attention. Next it’s the music websites folder on my browser toolbar: American Songwriter, Paste, Consequence of Sound, Album of The Year, The Guardian.
By the time I’m through with the ritual I’ve added the releases I’m interested in to a playlist called “Check Out (2019).” I’ll pull albums from this list on the train or in the kitchen, and if I like four or more songs I’ll add them to my “2019 albums” playlist (of course, individual songs go on the “2019 Radio” playlist).
I’m building a collection. It’s what I’ve always done with music, but it’s only lately dawned on me how central this collecting fixation is to my relationship with music. I enjoy it (I love some of it). But mostly as a collector.
Is collecting a lesser way to love a thing?