The rise of Stats.fm: Music as a signal of identity

It used to be hard to tell what music someone listened to. There were no public Spotify playlists, no Stats.fm top tracks to brag about, and no songs attached to your termly Instagram dump. Today, however, music taste can become an inextricable part of how your identity is perceived. With unprecedented access to data on our own habits, and those of others, we can tie our music consumption ever more tightly to our own personal brand. This has led to an experience of music-listening which is mediated by the public perception of precisely what music one listens to and what it says about them, in ways which have arisen alongside an individualistic shift in the personal branding zeitgeist.  

It is easier than ever to track your listening. With the advent of automatic tracking software such as Stats.fm and its more manual predecessor Last.fm, we no longer have to painstakingly keep a spreadsheet to know exactly what we listen to at every hour of the day. In fact, streaming platforms such as Spotify have even started handing us generalisations of what we listen to per hour, with ‘Daylists’. These consist of the music you most frequently turn to at that specific time each week, updated every few hours and accompanied by a few handy adjectives. My personal favourite title has been ‘Instrumental ballroom dancing this Thursday afternoon’, but, crucially, in Spanish. Daylists, notably, are made using AI to gauge these preferences, perhaps making them the epitome of this algorithm-led listening, creating pseudo-echo chambers of taste.   

This monitoring ability also comes hand in hand with an ease of discovery which would have previously been unthinkable. Rather than reliance on local record/CD shops – which would stock new releases, the well-known classics, and some local talent – or even the radio, offering similar coverage, with streaming, algorithmic listening is now in full swing. This means that consuming an artist’s entire discography is no longer something which requires effort, simply hit play on their artist page on the streaming platform of your choice. Additionally, once an algorithm works out that you’re enjoying a certain song, it can feed you more just like it with precisely zero labour on your part. The time between encountering a genre for the very first time and being a relative expert on it can now be cut down to a matter of hours, and you can now have statistical proof of your endeavours, too. 

Simultaneously, sharing your listening habits is now a very commonplace activity, largely through social media. Without even touching on the recent controversy over artists hiring marketing agencies to – allegedly – fabricate online fandoms for themselves, music is a core part of most social platforms today. Scrolling through somebody’s Instagram page, or their story highlights, now serves as a run-down of what they want you to know about their music taste (as well as obviously what they want you to know about their life). A real on-the-nose example is the annual swathes of Spotify Wrapped graphics – a full year of your listening neatly packaged for exhibition. Personal consumption has never been so public. This is in stark contrast to a time when one had to go out of their way to share these things: band merch, badges, physical copies of music all required active effort to acquire and show off. Today, the equivalent is three taps on a screen and a 30-second listen-through of the clip to make sure it’s communicating the right vibe. 

This has all come together to produce a world in which your music consumption is a core part of your personal branding, your aesthetic, what would be on a Pinterest mood-board titled [your name]-core. In other words, music has become another consumable good mediating your personal identity. It’s another element used to express Who You Are, insofar as this is your publicly available self, visible by others. There is now a break between authentic self-expression and one’s ‘music taste’: we are all pretending to not know that when we’re listening there’s a non-zero chance that this particular song-rotation will be made public in some form or another. While I’m sure some people do manage to marry the two, and are wholly unashamed of every song they’ve ever streamed, or who simply do not partake in the stat-posting and musical accompaniment to photo dumps, I think it is worth acknowledging that our relationship with music is changing. It is far harder to maintain a separation between your taste, your identity, and how you are thought of by others.  

Never before has it been this easy, or quick, to completely change your go-to music selection with the help of streaming platform discovery functions, nor have we ever had the tools to see and share our habits at the level of detail we do now. This has contributed to everyone knowing far more about each other’s tastes than they used to, and the culture of sharing your interests to be cool online has reinforced this. In essence, choosing what to listen to at any given time is, for many, no longer a decision based purely on the feelings of the moment, but is instead mediated by the knowledge that they are not alone in witnessing this choice.