I’d just finished watching A Portrait of a Lady on Fire when Spotify decided I wasn’t done feeling emotionally devastated. Up popped playlists like “do all lovers feel like they’re inventing something?” and others which sought to channel some form of yearning or heartache. None were soundtracks or platform mixes; just curators chasing a mood.
I clicked on one, then another, and before I knew it, I had spent an hour exploring strangers’ interpretations of the film set to music. That’s when I realized that Spotify has become less about albums or genres and more about the creation of micro–worlds. There’s a playlist for every vibe, mood, and oddly specific moment—no matter how niche they may seem.
Scrolling through the platform, for example I found “pov: it’s 3am and you’re in a sweaty upenn frat basement,” which sports 37 saves. Playlists aren’t just about shared taste, but about inside jokes and digital hangouts. But why is it so easy to lose yourself in these hyper–specific playlists? When did we stop searching for indie–folk and start searching for “looking out of an Amtrak window after breaking up with my situationship?”
Most of these playlists are bizarre clashes between genres; sometimes they work, and sometimes they don’t, but it doesn’t matter as long as it all fits the feeling. It could be Frank Ocean mixed with Dad Rock, or a SZA song next to a Hozier deep cut. In playlists like “frat basement,” you’re more than likely to find a hyper–pop song next to an R&B hit, regardless of whether the genres “fit” together. If they “feel” the same, you’ll find them in a playlist together, even if it doesn’t make sense.
Maybe it’s Spotify’s algorithm that learned not just what we like, but also how we want to feel. The moment you click on a playlist about “agonizing yearning,” you’ll get ten more just like it. They may not be exactly the same, but the feelings they produce will be. But it’s not only about Spotify's code; it's a shift in the broader culture. Online, we’ve come up with labels for every feeling, turning moods into micro–aesthetics and sharing them like pins. Sad–girl autumn, summer nostalgia, depressed teenage girl sh*t are just some examples of how we’ve been primed to sort life, seasons, colors, and moods into “vibes.”
On TikTok, a single video can launch a new viral ecosystem (“girl dinner,” “main character energy,” “i’m just a guy”)—just days later, suddenly Spotify has hundreds of playlists catered to that specific vibe. Tumblr has long been a source of curated aesthetics, and those sensibilities have trickled into how we create Spotify playlists today.
The best part? This hyper–specifity shows up on campus, too. Scroll far enough, and you’ll find playlists like “fall @ upenn,” “locust walk @ night,” and even “BIG DICK ENERGY WALKING DOWN LOCUST.” Even if you don’t know who made them or when, you know all too well the moments and feelings they’re referencing. There’s something weirdly comforting about finding a playlist about a moment or a feeling that you thought only you could understand. It’s like a musical wink to a stranger.
Even the titles and descriptions of these playlists echo internet culture: ridiculously specific, confessional, and rendered in all lowercase. It’s common to see things like “crying in the uber” or “pov you’re the background character with headphones in”—on Spotify, the lines between meme, diary, and mixtape become blurred.
In a way, Spotify has become another type of social media feed, but one where the currency is shares and saves rather than likes. Every new mood, meme, or micro–aesthetic that takes off on social media will find its way into a playlist, waiting for someone else to stumble onto it at precisely the right (or wrong) moment.
In a world that can feel overwhelming and alienating, there’s something reassuring about knowing that someone else out there feels the same as you do. The exact brand of heartbreak, chaotic college night, or nostalgia you're feeling is out there in playlist form for whenever you need it. We keep coming back for this digital intimacy, and the playlists we find when we need a lifeline are proof that the feelings we can’t name are real—but sometimes they're easier to soundtrack than to explain.
By the time I had surfaced from my Spotify spiral, I’d saved over a dozen playlists that perfectly matched moods I didn’t have names for, but wanted support in feeling. Maybe that’s the point. Walking down Locust, it's a given that almost everyone has earbuds or headphones in. We’re all sharing the same space, but with different soundtracks. It makes our experience feel more privately curated and a little cinematic, with our feelings matched to what we’re listening to. Not every mix sticks the landing; sometimes, it’s just someone’s Discover Weekly in a thinly–veiled disguise. But the best playlists are equal parts curation and confession: a little chaotic, a little vulnerable, and totally unafraid to put ABBA next to Phoebe Bridgers. I still don’t know if it’s loneliness, FOMO, or just fun that keeps these playlist rabbit holes alive. But hey—no matter what it is, there's bound to be a soundtrack for it.
