The other day, I hopped in my beautiful sports car — a used, white 2010 Toyota Camry — and started driving east. I was heading to Greenville,N.C. to celebrate a friend’s 21st birthday.
To get appropriately hyped, I grabbed my phone and opened up Spotify to play its RapCaviar playlist. There was only one problem: where I had hoped to see three bars of service, a depressing “1x” stared back at me instead.
Sitting in the middle of rush-hour traffic with no cell service and no other options, I turned to my last resort — songs downloaded on my phone. While years ago my downloaded songs were a robust and well-kept list, the ability to stream songs basically eliminated the need to take up storage space with downloads.
As a result, what I was left to listen to was a motley playlist consisting mostly of dad rock and hip-hop songs I listened to intensely for a week straight before discarding.
Yet when I hit shuffle, I was pleasantly surprised. I harmonized with Fergie (I hit every note), rapped very explicitly alongside Ice Cube, and by the time I hit the Ramones, I was air-drumming so hard I startled the old man in the car beside me.