When I worked as a music programming consultant for radio, we had a problem.
The most dangerous trap wasn't playing bad music. It was filling the playlist with songs that were merely tolerated.
We tested everything. Loved, hated, or accepted - every song got a score. And here's what we discovered: the songs people loved were often the same ones others despised. But those polarizing tracks? They sparked something. They mattered. They could pull new listeners from other stations.
The merely tolerated songs were different. Safe. Bland. Background noise that nobody complained about because nobody cared enough to complain.
Fill your airwaves with too much tolerance, and people tune out. Not dramatically. Quietly. A slow drift into nothingness.
Now imagine that same problem, but supercharged by machines.
That's what I call the tyranny of the skip.
The algorithm doesn't care about superfans.
It cares about skips. Every 30-second abandonment is a failure. Every pause is suspicious. Every replay is celebrated, but only if it leads to non-skipping behavior downstream.
So music adapts. Hooks move to the front. Intros disappear. Songs shrink to bite-sized portions optimized for the machine's attention span, not yours.
The result? A streaming catalog filled with the digital equivalent of elevator music. Songs engineered to avoid the skip, not to create a moment.
Here's what we've traded away:
The weird intro that takes 45 seconds to reveal itself. The bridge that makes no sense until the third listen. The song that sounds wrong until suddenly it sounds perfect. The risk of confusion in exchange for the possibility of transcendence.
We've optimized for the least common denominator of human attention. And we're surprised when nothing feels urgent anymore.
The path forward isn't nostalgia.
It's courage.
Courage to sit with a song past the algorithm's judgment window. Courage to create music that doesn't apologize for taking time to develop. Courage to program experiences that value depth over metrics.
The skip button isn't the enemy. Our willingness to let it make all our creative decisions is.
What if, instead of avoiding skips, we earned the replays
?