Welcome to Listening Habits, a column where I share the music I’ve been fixated on recently.
Like everything else in 2025, algorithms and social media deeply influence how people experience the arts, music most of all. In light of these invisible hands that more or less dictate online music exploration, and the growing desire to rebel against them as seen in the comeback of physical media, it is worth thinking about what "personal taste" really means today.
At least to me, personal taste is more than just the genres you do or don't like. It is matter of how music connects with your soul. In that sense, the operative word is "personal" more so than "taste." For instance, when I hear new records from 454, his auto-tuned chipmunk sound reminds me of my native Florida, while his ghostly, video game-y, R&B-inflected production beds feel perfectly suited to late night drives on the highway, an activity I've spent a lot of time doing since I've been able to drive. Likewise, new music from Alex G and Home Is Where spark that sense memory of fall days coming home from school, even though it's not actually the kind of music I would've been listening to back in those days. They just ignite something within.
I tend to value music by its ability to make me feel something. From nostalgia for things that never happened to memories of specific people or moments to just goosebumps or that knee-jerk compulsion to dance. My personal taste reflects what I like, but it also—and maybe even more so—reflects what, where, and how I've lived. To go into a cataloging of what music gets my obsessive brain going would keep us here all day. It's just important to understand that part of what makes music fun to listen to and think about and write about is the way you can spend days getting lost in different wormholes and sounds. At one moment, I will feel the need to listen to the entire family tree output of the Wu-Tang Clan, and in the next I will dig through what I call Scrubs-core—soft pop songs that might conclude an episode of Scrubs or How I Met Your Mother.
I like things that remind me of humanity—mine and others'. In this strange time where people behave like zombies, deadened by the onslaught of news and information and slop, where nihilism pervades and even Christians are trying to warn you of the "dangers of empathy," music is a perfect way to hold onto your empathetic nature.
Long ago, rap felt like the bridge between how the media covered the streets and the actual reality of living there. Many of the biggest bands and scenes in history made music documenting the reality of their specific moment in time. When drugs and psychedelics were expanding minds, it was reflected in the music being made. Women singer-songwriters of the late 20th century wrote intense songs about sexual exploration and the violence that women everywhere face. Empathy is absolutely foundational to both music creation and enjoyment.
On top of the music we enjoy, we should consider how we enjoy it. Do you prefer the scratchy brilliance of vinyl, the digital perfection of the CD, or the warbled lost-media quality of tape? I grew up in Florida, going to local clubs where they play the music at a faster BPM. It makes sense, since the entire state is influenced by Miami, the cocaine capitol, and that fast pace mimics the drug's effects. Just like how DJ Screw's tapes and that slow, chopped and warped sound mimics the feeling of codeine. Are you acoustic or electric? Have you and your band sold your guitars and bought turntables, or sold your turntables and bought guitars? How does the music speak to you?
It's not that music is "bad" now, or that songs reflecting our current reality don't exist, but there is a trend—heightened by both the algorithms and the music labels–that encourages a certain uniformity. And rather than looking forward, much of it is stuck trying to recreate the past in increasingly obvious ways. A snake consistently eating its own tail. "Remember when" might be the lowest form of conversation, but it seems to be the highest form of pop music in the 2020s.
For all the fancy ways people try to prove they are stylish, with luxury brands and easy streetwear tropes, I have always believed you can find out how stylish someone is by what they can do with a white T-shirt and jeans. So what is the white T-shirt and jeans of your music taste? If you were stuck on an island alone and had to DJ to entertain yourself, with no need to think about what's considered popular or cool, what would you play? Do you have a particular sub-genre or sub-sub-genre that you have exceedingly strong opinions on? After all, that's the joy of art, finding out what it has to say about yourself.
A good exercise for defining your personal taste is to make your own mixtape. I prefer a mixtape over a playlist because of its constraints, but if it must be a playlist, keep it within 20–25 songs. Base it on a mood or vibe or just memories or activities for which the music would make the perfect accompaniment. Set rules for yourself: make it cohesive, think about synchronization and sequencing, combine different vibes in sensible but unique ways. Make your taste feel alive and alluring to a stranger who might listen.
A Final Word On The Diddy Trial
Earlier this month, Sean "Diddy" Combs was found guilty of two out of the five charges levied against him in his trafficking and racketeering trial. The ones the jury found him guilty of were the lesser charges of transportation to engage in prostitution, which each carry up to 10 years imprisonment.
In spite of the conviction, many have looked at the outcome of the trial as a disappointment since Combs was not found guilty of the more significant RICO conspiracy and major sex-trafficking charges. It's hard to call it a complete miscarriage of justice, though, as it was always going to be difficult to make those charges stick, the RICO one especially. As for the sex trafficking, establishing the line between coercion and consent proved to be difficult in this legal context. Does sexism and our own internalized misogyny play a factor? How could it not. People have no problem understanding the basics of domestic abuse and mistreatment—and there seems to be no question, from the jury to the prosecution to Combs's own defense team, that Combs was an abusive, malignant boyfriend—but the jury still felt that the state didn't do enough to prove that Combs's ex-girlfriends weren't willing participants in his freak-offs. Further highlighting the gap between what people think of as abusive and what defines coercion.
With all of that in mind, it is easy to see how Combs's fans have looked at this as a victory for the disgraced rapper/mogul. Some of those fans have taken too hard of a victory lap though, as it's not as though he was completely exonerated. And while he's not exactly getting the book thrown at him, I do see the fact that his lawyers were not able to secure him bail as a sign that he may see significant prison time. So much of the perception of the trial will only be determined at sentencing.
Most curious about the reaction to the trial was the way much of the online/ YouTube media—which for years has trafficked in salacious stories about Diddy's behind-the-scenes violence, chaos, and thievery—has emerged as his biggest cheerleader, characterizing the case as simply a powerful man being unfairly punished for his sex life, casually ignoring the abuse of his partners that Diddy's own team doesn't refute. It brings to mind how much of everything—from presidential elections to high-profile racketeering trials—has become sports to both the public and the media. The figures involved become "teams" to root for or against. Thirty years after the OJ Simpson trial, people still use this excuse of rooting against "The Man" in supporting Simpson's non-conviction, wholly ignoring the very real lives affected by one man's actions. What's the solution? When everything has been gamified and our empathy is neutralized, how do you fight for more humane behavior? I don't know, but I do know that I can't stomach a world where people drown themselves in baby oil to celebrate another powerful predator who is friends with the president.
The Non-Rap Song of The Moment
If you would like to contribute something or ask a question for future installments, email me at israel@defector.com.
