This may come as something of a surprise but I some things I would like to get off of my chest. I have been a subscriber to your services for some time now – more recently I have come to question our relationship. It took me some time to subscribe to your services however I eventually folded (just after all the promotions ended, coincidence? I think not). The reason I took so long to come around was threefold; I didn’t like the monopolistic control of music you had suddenly assumed, I didn’t like the growing trend of being detached from music – even if ownership was generally in the form of mp3, lastly, I didn’t trust you – I supposed you were a bastard, be it through advertising, selling data or exploiting music artists for your own gain. I suppose you fit the trajectory of the music industry and it hadn’t ever bothered me previously that my favorite artists were either bastards or at the behest of bastards but it does feel as if you’ve taken it up to 11.

Anyway, I succumbed, to a student deal if you need know. You told me you’d throw in a meditation app which I’d used a few times and thought might cure me, and I was yours. I tried to sniff out the best deal, to get some free months, to beat you, but we all know that was never going to happen. You got me hooked on the free stuff and here I am.

Imagine me dejected, mascara across my face, snot dripping from my chin, my lace skirt up around my skint knees. It’s a troublesome image, and one you’re responsible for, Spotify. I remember a time when music was a voyage of discovery, not the filthy mess it is now. When I started listening to music I received advice from friends and family; where to go, where not to go, what to try, what not to try. I explored as I saw fit, I still remember the tentative first steps I took into a metal section – it scared me and didn’t suit my youthful vision of the world so I stopped there and then with the Metallica Black Album forever scarred into my memory. You’d have me listen to Avenged Sevenfold while I tried to fit my own foot in my arse wouldn’t you? You, with your tasteless and useless algorithm. Algorithm, more like no-fucking-rhythm. And another thing, How about you take the Genres and Moods tab, and shove it up your ass?! Did you ever go into a record shop and rifle through a mood, you tremendous armpit leech? And stop offering me your fatty fucking playlists of artist classics! How hard is it to define music by genre, and then by sub genre? I bet you’ve never even tried? Have you? I don’t want popular playlists, unless they’re my popular playlists! Workout is not a genre or a fucking mood! What is so wrong with you?! Would my friends ever offer me a playlist with Ed Sheeran? No! So just fucking don’t! I know that your Discover tab is your saving grace, but why, dear God, can you not click on the artist of each “Because you’ve listened to…) stream is made? You have such an opportunity to do right. No, You have a duty to do right.

I’m sorry if I’m emotional, but this has gone on some time. I’ve waited and waited for you to clean up these simple things but you haven’t. It’s like you don’t even care?
The aim of this little letter is not to tell you grandiosely that I can quit you. I won’t and you wouldn’t care if I did. The point of this is to register the problem somewhere anonymously. Perhaps then you’ll learn. Maybe one day, I will leave. I’ll strut out in my cowboy boots and dress and you’ll never even know I was making a joke. Stupid fucking computer. (Did you mean Radiohead?). All I ask for is some care, some curation. Do you remember how it felt to stroll down the aisles of a music shop and sense everything? The sleeves, the art, the similar artists, the genre and sub genre headings. I’ve made it so easy for you. You’ve taken my data from me and left me a reified shell of auditory capacity. A broken heart within a broken ear drum.

Now, go! Do some good! Before I move over to Google Music and experience the exact same frustrations there.

Cheers the now,

Mr Hummels

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