Spotify Wrapped Tells Me My Music Habits Are Not Normal

I love Spotify Wrapped. At least, I do the moment I boot up the music-streaming app and see all the statistics and rankings encompassing a year of listening habits. It’s only when I start seeing other people’s Wrappeds that I feel like I might be slightly insane. I spend every 12 months wondering what I’m going to see in the mirror Spotify holds up at the end of the year, and my 2024 wasn’t particularly surprising in a vacuum. My most played song was Sabrina Carpenter’s “Espresso” because I’m gay and have immaculate taste. Just how much have I listened to the tune since the Short n’ Sweet singer released it in April? 1582 times.

Friends, I realize that probably sounds excessive. Literally seconds after I posted about my Spotify Wrapped on social media, I was met with reactions from people gobsmacked by how many times I’d heard Carpenter singing about the Nintendo Switch (but not actually). Then, as I scrolled through other people’s Wrapped, I saw the majority of people’s most-played songs had only been played a couple dozen times over the course of 12 months. On top of that, my overall Spotify usage was in the six figures. I spent 129,053 minutes listening to music on Spotify, about three months of non-stop music in my ears. Once again, this dwarfed most people’s average play time, which landed around five figures or less.

These ridiculous statistics require some context. For one, I always have music playing if I’m not talking to someone, and even then, it’s probably playing in the background. That means while I’m writing for this here website, playing non-narrative games like Overwatch 2, or commuting through New York City, my Spotify is blasting something into my ears. Again, Spotify Wrapped reminds me not many people operate this way, and I simply don’t know how the rest of y’all are white-knuckling life without music. What am I supposed to do, listen to the sounds of NYC traffic jams?

But my total playtime is probably less surprising than the 1500 listens to “Espresso.” That can be explained by me listening to songs on repeat for hours on end. Sometimes I’ll listen to a song nonstop for a day or two, then move on to something else, then come back to that song for another stretch of relentless listening. The song of the moment is Coheed & Cambria’s “Searching For Tomorrow,” which has had a few of these dedicated windows of repeat listening in the time since the prog rock band released it last month. Is there possibly something undiagnosed underneath there? Could be. But my music-listening habits have always been this way. When I was young, if I didn’t like a full album I’d spent money on, I’d probably have the songs I did like on a loop, and the rise of digital music and streaming services has only exacerbated this approach.

To be clear, this isn’t exclusively how I listen to music. But over the years, I’ve always sought out ways to listen to songs on repeat. When I used YouTube as a primary music source, I had external websites open to play songs I was really vibing with on a loop. I remember I stopped using Soundcloud as often when they made it impossible to find their repeat button for a brief window of time. Part of it is just my personality. I tend to hyperfixate. Growing up, I used to go see a movie that I enjoyed multiple times in theaters and replay games multiple times without getting tired of them. So it’s natural that tendency would bleed into how I listen to music as well. But part of it is this job. I start to attach certain feelings or games to specific songs or artists, and will listen to them on repeat so it keeps me in the right headspace. Music is so often an extension of my mood that a song landing in my most-listened-to playlist is as much a statement about how I felt that year as it is about the quality of the song.

“Espresso” was my go-to gym song for much of the year. Since moving to NYC, I finally made the jump to becoming a gym rat, and I tend to listen to a lot of pop girlies during my workouts because half the reason you go to the gym is to get more confident in how you look. So yeah, I listened to a sexy little pop song half the time because it got me in my groove. Couple that with the song being relatively short (just under three minutes) and it naturally ends up getting a couple dozen plays by the end of the workout. The same goes for Charli XCX and Billie Eilish’s “Guess” Remix. Nothing gets me more pumped for cable flys than a bumpin’ pop song. It’s the same effect metal or hip-hop has on the average straight dude.

But my top-played artists aren’t all pop girlies, though Sabrina, Charli, and Chappell Roan all ended up in my top five. Yes, yes, I know I’m gay, Spotify. Chill. Coheed & Cambria’s “The Joke” was my second-most-played song, though Spotify won’t give me a number on how many times it was played. It was the return of my favorite band, and the fact that they managed to end up in my top five artists this year on the back of three singles leading up to their new album next year is a testament to how many times those songs were spun. Jon Bellion, probably my favorite pop artist right now, hasn’t put out an album for six years, so his new, melancholy single about rediscovering his inner child, “Kid Again,” was on loop for several days as I wrung his soulful vocals out for every last drop.

Eventually, these songs do make their way out of the rotation, but I have been blessed with the uncanny ability to never truly tire of these songs. I remember friends in high school being frankly kind of shitty to me for being able to listen to songs on a loop in my headphones, as if that had any bearing on their lives. Looking back, it was probably less about them being subjected to a song non-stop than it was the idea that someone listened to music differently. I had earbuds in, what did it matter to them what they were playing?

Without context, my Spotify Wrapped usually looks insane every year. But looking back at the way I listen to music, I try not to read into it too much. I just know everyone who sees it in passing probably wonders how the hell someone can listen to a funky pop song about Not Coffee hundreds of times without wanting to tear their ears out. And to that I say: If you can’t still love a song after hearing it dozens, hundreds, or apparently thousands of times, that’s a skill issue. Sorry. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go put “Espresso” on for the 1583rd time.

Looking at everyone else’s Spotify Wrapped makes me feel like I’m doing it wrong. (If I were being more honest, I’d say that it makes me feel like everyone else but me is doing it wrong, but I won’t admit to that.) As Kotaku writers shared their summaries of their most-listened-to songs from 2024 in our Slack, Kenneth reported that he’d listened to Sabrina Carpenter’s “Espresso” some 1,582 times. My most played song—“Young Fathers” by Typhoon—had been streamed by me 17 times.

If you asked me to sing “Young Fathers” by Typhoon, I’d have genuinely replied, “Who?” I absolutely wouldn’t have known that was the name of the band, nor even the name of the track, but playing it back, I’m like, “Oh yeah, I really like how this sounds!” I’d added it to my Liked Songs playlist (currently 1,622 songs long) and I guess it came up 17 times over the year. I’ve no idea who Typhoon are, if they’re wonderful progressives championed by the youth, or some problematic bunch of old bastards only liked by actual Nazis. It’s just a song that made a nice noise, so I listened to it. (I’ve got it on right now, and it’s a great pop track, with a whole host of catchy riffs, but I’ve never paid attention to the lyrics.)

According to Spotify, I’ve listened to a total of 5,232 songs this year, by 1,992 different artists. And, apparently, this isn’t very normal? It kept telling me I was in the top 0.5 percent of various bands’ listenerships, which feels incredibly stalkerish, and confuses me even further given how infrequently I’d apparently streamed any single track. But it’s likely because of this width instead of depth that my top five artists included, in fifth place, Eels.

Don’t get me wrong—I love Eels. I loved them in 1996 with Beautiful Freak, a CD I recorded to cassette and then listened to on a loop on my Walkman during a summer spent mowing fields in a Scottish outdoor activity center. I loved Electro-Shock Blues (well, as much as that gut-punch of an album can be loved), and the incredible Daisies of the Galaxy in 2000, and Souljacker in 2002, and then…I drifted off. I hadn’t listened to them in 20 years! I spent a couple of days listening to a bunch of their more recent albums, stuck a few of the tracks on my Liked Songs list, and that was that. And apparently that made the band my fifth highest choice!

The rest of the top five isn’t as surprising to me, even if it reveals that I still just listen to what comic writer and former colleague Kieron Gillen always describes as “John Walker music.” (It’s a derogatory term.) In first place is Marble Sounds, and that makes perfect sense. The Belgian singer’s music is my “happy” place, something I put on when I need to feel the perpetual ennui of life reflected back to me in beautiful sounds. Second place is The Mountain Goats, and again, the only surprise is that it’s not first place. Alongside Nick Cave, John Darnielle is my favorite singer, and The Mountain Goats is the band I’ve seen live the most times. If I had to pick only one artist I was allowed to listen to, it’d be him or Cave, depending on the day. Third is Radical Face, and again, that’s a go-to artist for me (alongside another Ben Cooper vehicle, Electric President, with Alex Kane), since I discovered him in 2017 via the extraordinary video-EP, “SunnMoonnEclippse.”

But from then on, it’s a free-for-all. There are tracks I am convinced I listened to vastly more often than those listed in my top five songs, including whoever Typhoon are. Like French “electro-swing band” Caravan Palace’s incredible ditty “Miracle,” that despite being five years old I only heard for the first time this year via some TV show.

Also, I’m convinced I listened to A House’s 1994 track “Why Me” more than 17 times on the same day a couple of weeks ago. Although, at least the appearance of “A Wave Across A Bay” in second place for songs represents just how much I’ve listened to Frank Turner this year. If I’d had to guess, I’d have assumed it’d have been the deeply moving song about anxiety, “Haven’t Been Doing So Well,” or his wonderful song “Miranda,” about restoring his broken relationship with his dad (the agreed term between them) after she came out as trans.

Also, where’s Busdriver? Where’s Aesop Rock? Where’s Nick Cave? Where’s Noname? And the rest of the artists I feel like I put on more often than others?

OK, I’m done just crowbarring in favorite songs to make you listen to them—I’ll get back to the point…

As tempting as it is to crown myself as Captain Iconoclastic, having found my own niche of middle-of-the-road middle-aged men to listen to, it leaves me feeling a bit alienated. My wife and son sing along to any song they hear in public, but they’re all new to me. When Kenneth shared his top five, I genuinely asked who Sabrina Carpenter is. It turns out I know the track “Espresso,” and have deliberately listened to it a few times as it’s a great piece of pop, but I had no idea who sang it—even though I remember her lackluster performance of it on SNL.

When I was younger, I’d have taken dumb pride in this. Ooh, look at me, I don’t even know the big pop hits, aren’t I so very interesting. But as I get dangerously close to 50, I realize that, no, I’m just missing out. Admittedly, this is in large part driven by my wife and son endlessly repeating the same bloody Taylor Swift and Chappell Roan songs, which might be perfectly fantastic, but I’ve involuntarily heard them so many times they’ve become like sandpaper on my brain.

And I guess it’s that last part that traps me in my weird situation: I don’t want to hear the same song a billion times. Kenneth listened to “Espresso” 1,500 times in a year. That sounds like a punishment to me, and as I already said, I think it’s a great track! But damn, 30 times and I’d not want to listen to it again for a good few years. I want something brand new more than I want an old familiar. As soon as something is broadly popular, I hear it even when I don’t want to, and I begin to resent it. It’s imposed on me. It’s fair to say that with 272 monthly listeners on Spotify, another regular favorite, Trouble Books, aren’t going to be played when I go into the department store. (Listen to “Gravel Pit” right now, you bastards.)

So am I the weirdo? Or is it Kenneth? I like to assume that it’s probably both of us, given we felt so compelled to worry about it that we wrote this article.