Think back to any major moment in your life and, chances are, there is at least one song that you can tie to it. Mary Beth Bauermann ’24 traces the evolution of music technology and playlisting practices, both of which provide a lens through which we can analyze music and the ways it complements memory.

We all have songs that we’ve come to associate with memories throughout our lives, songs that act as time machines and evoke nostalgia (check out our staff-curated “Reflection” playlist, and you’ll see what I mean). Over the years, technology has facilitated people’s ability to put all those memory-inducing songs together on cassette tapes and CDs, transport them anywhere, and share them with others. In recent years, the rising popularity of Spotify has provided a means of curating intangible playlists and creating a digital archive that, in theory, we should be able to revisit and reflect upon for years to come.

At the tail end of 2022, I read a book that changed the way I think about music and memory. It all started last summer when, in hardcore Beatles fan fashion, I decided that my “fun” summer read would be a nonfiction book called Dreaming the Beatles by Rob Sheffield. A prominent critic for Rolling Stone Magazine since the ’70s, Sheffield has shared decades of musical opinions, but Dreaming the Beatles offers both a historical account of The Beatles’ lasting impact on generations after their initial fame, as well as a personal narrative of his life told through the group’s music. As a reader, I resonated so deeply with certain experiences detailed by Sheffield that, at times, I felt as though he was telling my story, too. Reviews of Dreaming the Beatles showed that I wasn’t the only one who felt this way. The idea of collective narratives surrounding music intrigued me and, upon finishing Dreaming the Beatles, I set out to read Sheffield’s most famous book — Love Is a Mixtape: Life and Loss, One Song at a Time — over winter break. I had no idea the pages before me would soon transform my perspective on the ways in which I listen to my favorite songs, construct and circulate playlists, and generally think about music as sonic markers of specific moments of my life.

Over the course of Love Is a Mixtape, Sheffield shares 22 mixtapes that he made, spanning decades of his life. From “Roller Boogie,” composed of the songs Sheffield chose to play when he was put in charge of the music for his middle school dance, to “Paramount Hotel,” which provides the soundtrack to his first summer as a widower, each tape acts as a window into Sheffield’s life at any given moment, just as any playlist on our Spotify profiles might represent a specific time in our lives. Each chapter, framed by a different mixtape, explores events and particular tracks in great depth, providing insights into personal resonances with songs. This is illustrated in Sheffield’s discussion of the song “Thirteen” by Big Star, which introduced him to his wife and was the first dance song at their wedding. Many of us likely have songs that we associate with life events, whether it be a song that reminds us of a fond childhood memory or a song we listened to during a breakup. For me, David Bowie has been the maestro for several significant life memories. On the last day of high school before COVID-19 prevented us from ever returning, my choir teacher let us sing karaoke, and we chose to sing “Starman.” It’s the last song I remember us singing together. Bowie’s “Heroes” was playing when I made the decision to go to the College of William and Mary.

We don’t make mixtapes in their traditional sense anymore, but some of us may have experience burning mix CDs. I remember making mix CDs for birthday parties in elementary school with lots of Natasha Bedingfield, Fearless and Speak Now-era Taylor Swift, and the Jonas Brothers. My cousins and I exchanged mix CDs for Christmas one year, which introduced me to artists they loved, like Glass Animals and St. Vincent, while I introduced them to some of my favorites, including Animal Collective and Geographer. Whenever I hear songs from those mix CDs, vivid memories of specific places, events, and people come flooding back. Ultimately, a retrospective look at what is now considered antiquated music-sharing technology, like cassettes and mix CDs, illustrates the link they have to memory. It leads me to wonder what we’ll experience one day when we revisit the playlists we’re currently making on Spotify and other streaming platforms.

Already, if we look back at the playlists we made in 2020 — an extremely eventful year in most of our lives — it’s likely that the songs they contain transport us back to what feels like a different world, evoking a wide array of emotions. Listening to “Starman” makes me nostalgic for high school choir rehearsals and pre-pandemic normalcy, just as listening to “Heroes” brings back all the anxiety I experienced during the college decision process and the clarity that accompanied committing to a school. As college students, we’re living through a formative period of our lives, and the songs on the playlists we create will one day have the power to transport us back to our college years, for better or for worse. 

In the past two years, I’ve started making semesterly playlists, compiling all the songs I listened to on repeat during that semester for the sole purpose of keeping a record. I know that I’ll always associate the songs on them with the people and places important to me during my time at the College. 

I think Sheffield said it best: “The times you lived through, the people you shared those times with — nothing brings it all to life like an old mixtape. It does a better job of storing up memories than actual brain tissue can do. Every mixtape tells a story. Put them together, and they can add up to the story of a life.” Maybe my Spotify playlists will add up to the story of my college life. Only time will tell.