Don't Send It Unless Someone Asks
On playlists, intimacy, and earning the right to share your taste
Playlists are personal.
They tell you how much someone knows about life; or at least how much they’ve paid attention to it. They’re evidence. Of taste, yes, but also of timing, patience, restraint, and lived experience. A good playlist plays like a good mixtape.
Which is funny, because I made my fair share of terrible ones.
Maxell tapes. Towers of burned CDRs. Left behind for many people; many women, some friends, but mostly myself, as a clumsy attempt at intimacy in my early twenties. A way of trying to get laid while projecting an intellect about life that I very clearly didn’t yet have. There’s an archive of those somewhere. Truly awful mixtapes. And then, slowly, fewer awful ones. Progressively better ones as I moved into my early thirties. Less about impressing. More about understanding.
Because a good playlist requires commitment.
It needs a theme.
It needs rules.
A sound. A mood. BPMs that make sense. You should know what you’re reaching for when you press play. You need a run. You need a break. You need something that hums quietly while you work. Something for the long drive. Something for heartbreak. Or something that lets you sit in the heartbreak without pretending you’re healed.
A good playlist is a potion.
And in this case, you’re the doctor.
Which is why you don’t just hand them out.
A good playlist is like a good nude; you don’t send it unless someone asks. Trust me, I’ve met people who sent playlists unsolicited. Before we knew each other. Before there was any context. Before a real conversation about music, or anything else, had even started. Just a link. Dropped casually. Proudly. Expecting intimacy without earning it.
Surface-level pop. Or worse—surface-level “indie.”
Curated by algorithm. Bragged about like discovery.
Look, I don’t want your Neutral Milk Hotel–Alabama Shakes–Rodriguez mashup. I’m offended you sent it without first learning just what a dick I am about playlists.
But when you meet someone good—someone you connect with, someone who puts real emphasis on curation, on intention, on substance over accumulation—that’s different. Someone who understands that the music might be old, or obvious, or well-known, but arranged with care. Sequenced thoughtfully. Crossing genres without showing off.
Those are the good ones.
Those are the people you keep around.
Anyway, I’m not sure how I ended up here, but it feels like a welcome change from the week. Hope you’re having a good day. Send a good playlist to someone you trust. Or better yet; ask someone you respect for one, and tell them why.
We get off on that shit.
Intimacy has tells. Sometimes it’s books. Sometimes it’s music.
John Waters put it more bluntly: “If you go home with somebody, and they don’t have books, don’t fuck ’em.”
When it comes to good music, the principle still holds.
need a playlist, I’ve got you.