The Algorithm Doesn't Have Ears

My local record store clerk knew my name and I knew his: Klaus.

Klaus remembered that I liked obscure artists who were part of Prince's Minneapolis connection. When he recommended something, it was because he thought I'd actually like it.

The algorithm knows your clicks.

It doesn't care if you love the song. It cares if you keep listening. It knows that the longer you use the service, the less likely you are to cancel your subscription. It doesn't care if the music moves you to tears or makes you dance. It cares if you scroll to the next track or close the app.

We traded human curation for artificial optimization.

The old gatekeepers had skin in the game. The DJ at the college radio station played music because she believed in it. The music journalist wrote about bands because they mattered. The guy at the indie record shop staked his reputation on every recommendation.

The new gatekeepers have engagement in the game.

They've turned taste into data points. Passion into metrics. Discovery into retention algorithms.

Here's what we lost: the person who said, "I know this sounds weird, but trust me." The friend who made you a mixtape. The stranger at the coffee shop whose playlist made you ask, "What is this?"

We lost the uncomfortable moment when someone plays you something that doesn't fit. The song that takes three listens to click. The album that changes how you think about music entirely.

The algorithm doesn't take risks. It doesn't have intuition. It doesn't love anything.

It just optimizes for more of the same.

Musicians now write for the machine. Hooks in the first seven seconds. Familiar chord progressions. Predictable drops. Because the algorithm rewards familiarity disguised as novelty.

But here's the thing about human taste: it's gloriously inefficient. It's wonderfully unpredictable. It's beautifully subjective.

The algorithm will never love something so much it stays up all night pressing it on friends. It will never stake its reputation on a weird B-side. It will never say, "This might be terrible, but you have to hear it."

That's still our job.

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