Some days, I crave more music than others. Some days I wake up wanting to listen to “Boy with Luv” by BTS ft. Halsey; other days, I switch it up, throwing on some indie Argentinian electronic pop. One thing that remains consistent, however, is that I always, always need some music to start my day (and to get through it).
I wasn’t like that before—back home, I was usually very happy walking with no headphones; just me and my internal monologue, and street noises, birds chirping, cars honking. Then things started to change as my life progressed into the chaotic imaginary TV series I think it is. I quit my job in Mexico in March, moved to the UK, and started a PhD on April 1st, and then, finally, it all snowballed into whatever the hell is going on at the present moment.
It was so fast—and so intense—, that the only way I could cope with it was with music. And that’s how the creation of Spotify’s daylist became my favourite thing in the world.
Not sponsored (obviously), but I am the biggest fan of Spotify. Before, I would spend hours crafting the perfect playlist, even if I wasn’t going to listen to all of it afterwards, just to create a scene in my mind about the things that were happening in my life. Moving to the UK was not an exception to this rule. I created a diverse set of playlists, such as:
- “Normal Beginnings,” which is what I called my January playlist since it was the most abnormal start of the year I’ve had in my life.
- “Playlist to Not Get Sad in the UK,” which is a collaborative playlist where I asked my friends to throw some happy songs for me to listen to when I got sad.
- “Girl Music,” where I only have three songs (all by Grimes).
Amongst many others. And I was feeling pretty confident and proud of my curating skills, but there was something missing. A surprise factor, a twist, a sparkle of new music blended smoothly with the songs I have in a loop 24/7. And so, Spotify and its immaculate algorithm decided to bless us with ✨daylist✨.
Daylist is a relatively new Spotify feature (released in September, as far as I know) that crafts a niche, unique playlist based on your listening habits, genres you like, time spent listening, and other factors, and then names it after the aesthetic they would catalogue it as. The playlist not only changes daily but within the day itself. I was very surprised to find out that after a certain time during the day, I could refresh the page and a brand-new playlist would pop up, ready to delight me (or make me dissociate). I felt like a kid opening gifts on Christmas.
And so, September came and went, carried away by the wind and the calm, slow Monday mornings, the delicate writer Tuesday nights, the shoegaze post-punk Wednesday afternoons, the witch house obscure Thursday mornings, the calm, cuddly Friday early mornings, the independent Mexican indie Saturday evenings, and the romantic Spanish pop Sunday nights.
It all felt tailored to my feelings, my little thoughts, my big concerns, my sense of self, and the environment I was living in. It became trustworthy. “What do I want to listen to today?” The daylist has positioned itself as my first option.
Emotions come and go, but so does the daylist. So now I wake up, I leave for the bus stop, and as I walk, I wonder: What will the daylist bring me? And the answer is always there, ready for me to listen to.