The human condition involves presenting idealized versions of ourselves. Whether we are pretending to have seen that classic film or making our relationship “Instagram official” on Valentine’s Day, it seems that few aspects of modern life go untainted by the pressure to perform. The most irksome iteration of this is epitomized by Spotify’s annual announcement: “Wrapped is coming.”

Upon seeing the banner pop up on my phone screen last November, my mind anxiously flitted to haunting visions of multi-colored statistics swamping my Instagram feed, friends gloating about their yearly summaries of music listening, and a social expectation to publicly flaunt my own music taste. Having garnered over 433 million listeners, much of Spotify’s appeal revolves around its social media-esque features. While fun, this also generates an expectation among users to project an idealized version of themselves on the platform, prioritizing image over authenticity.

To avoid being publicly “perceived,” I have tweaked many of my Spotify default settings with a bit of account housekeeping. My “Friend Activity” feature is off so that nobody can see the songs I have most recently played. I have also privatized most of my playlists, as the thought of others seeing my middle school mixtapes makes me nauseous. Furthermore, I have never posted my yearly Wrapped results because I don’t want my favorite music to be the subject of anyone’s scrutiny. Does this make me a paranoid person? Potentially. But I blame Spotify for inundating music-listeners with the burden of curating our sonic identities.

Listening to music should be exploratory and fluid, yet this modern emphasis on optics over intimacy may cause users to abandon their musical persuasions in favor of an artfully arranged profile. But am I the only one who feels this way? I hit the streets to find out. After asking 10 to 15 friends and family members if they felt like Spotify’s public playlists, “Friend Activity,” and annual Wrapped summaries fueled any pressure to construct a listening persona, I found that their responses showed that I (much to my relief) am not alone in feeling this way. The interviewees unanimously recognized that, although some features increase their quality of listening, the fact that others are watching can be a hindrance.

On one hand, many people described how Spotify’s emphasis on social connection makes it superior to other music streaming platforms: “The more detail the better,” one friend told me, as she is “constantly checking what people are listening to because I’m genuinely curious.” Someone else admitted to enjoying the Friend Activity feature because she’s “nosy”—a sentiment echoed by another person, who said, “I love it because I can learn about the music my friends are listening to and share my own.” 

However, my other interviewees described how these features make them feel insecure or more prone to self-revision. One friend said, “Spotify scares me because people can see what I’m listening to,” while my brother characterized this sense of exposition as “awkward,” asserting that listening to music “should be a private thing sometimes.” After a week of jamming to particularly sad music, my roommate described receiving an onslaught of texts from concerned friends. While the support was comforting, the sense of surveillance was shocking.

My hypothesis that Spotify pressures people to curate their music tastes was confirmed as my friends candidly divulged their strategies. One friend admitted turning on “private sessions” during their workouts because “sometimes I don’t want my artsy friends to see me listening to ‘Industry Baby’ or whatever.” Another confessed to being “totally cognizant of the fact that it is public,” thus occasionally playing a different song after the one she was listening to so that others could not see her “embarrassing” music on the Friend Activity page.

Why does it matter if people see your guilty-pleasure songs? As one friend explained, “The music you listen to has come to define a part of your identity.” One interviewee claimed to spend more time curating their public playlists than the ones kept private, and another confessed to playing “So This is Love” from “Cinderella” to “send subliminal messages to my crush.” Many friends expressed that while Spotify Wrapped is fascinating to view on an individual level, they prefer not to share the aspects of it which reveal the less attractive sides of their playlists.

Further research revealed that 7 in 10 Spotify users are too embarrassed to openly share their Wrapped summaries. Regardless of how each friend interacted with the app, my findings revealed an overarching fear of being perceived. Spotify can make listening to music “more of a spectacle rather than something you just do,” a friend summarized. Exciting as the platform is, it also poses constant reminders that someone is always watching (and monetizing) my strange, unaesthetic music-listening habits. These distractions may prevent users from discovering what they like or create embarrassment around something that should be unconditionally celebrated. Perhaps if we didn’t feel the need to project an image of our music-listening selves, we could stop apologizing for loving all the funky, strange, stupid, incredible music that gets us through our days.

Lauren Horowitz can be reached at lhorowitz@wesleyan.edu.