Memory by Format

Memory by Format
❖ A short history of listening

My generation moved through more music formats than most.

Mixtapes. Burned CDs. MiniDiscs. MP3s and Winamp. iPods.
Each format carried its own distinct sound. Looking back, it almost feels like the format defined the music. Or was it the other way around? 

Mixtapes came first. Raw French alt-rock stitched with the hiss and incense 
of psych folk. I listened to Noir Désir and Mano Negra on the metro. 
The music sounded better with background noise.

MiniDiscs made music feel aesthetic. Palm-sized, re-recordable, ever so briefly, 
they promised the future. I filled them with bass-heavy tracks and downtempo breaks. We labelled them by hand.

Then came Winamp on desktop, complete with custom skins. Who remembers this? The MP3 era. Peer-to-peer sharing. Libraries stored on hard drives now long lost. There’s still an online shrine to it.

By 2006, I had a newborn and a Mac. iTunes took over. My playlists filled with synths, toy pianos, French electro: Stereo Total, Ladytron, Spapp. Songs were pulled out of sequence and shuffled. That’s when the iPod killed the album.

Eventually I made the switch to Spotify. At first, this felt like freedom. 
Everything available all at once! Then, music became functional. Tempo-based 
playlists for my training runs. 



In 2018, we joined the Premium Family plan. 

Now it’s an endless scroll of Liked Songs. My daughters’ music sometimes glitches into my daily mixes: hyperpop, Discord core, clouded trap that sounds like someone mumbling in the next room. They’d be horrified if they knew I keep listening. But I do. Unfamiliar music keeps the brain plastic.

Wrapped tries to summarise it, neatly.
With stats. But music isn’t about the metrics. 

It’s about where it takes you. 

Should I Stay or Should I Go at La Loco, a Paris club in ’91. 
Faithless – Insomnia.mp3 on repeat through white-night deadlines. 
Moon Safari by Air on Radio Nova, somewhere between Paris and parenthood. 
Or Praise You by Fatboy Slim, still the song of a relationship 
that ended.

Streaming platforms try to repackage that.
But taste isn’t a brand asset.