Sticky Fingers on my Screen, Broadway in my Ears

This year’s Spotify Wrapped arrived like a performance review from a boss I don’t remember hiring.

90% of my top songs are things Charlotte played on my phone. Christa’s, too. According to Spotify, our household is powered almost entirely by Disney soundtracks and animated musical numbers. Apparently, I have spent a shocking amount of time vibing to “Let It Go,” “We Don’t Talk About Bruno,” and whatever Moana track is always at 1% volume when I put my phone in my pocket and then suddenly at 120% the second I sit down.

Wrapped makes it look like I’ve abandoned all adult taste. Buried somewhere down the list is the stuff I actually picked—the heavy bands, the weird experimental albums, the things I used to imagine would define my personality. But the algorithm is honest in a way I didn’t expect. It doesn’t care about my self-image or the story I’d like to tell about my taste. It just tallies what actually happened.

And, what actually happened is this. Earlier this year, Charlotte and I got hooked on “What Do You Know About Love” from the Frozen Broadway soundtrack. We listened to it on loop at bedtime, the two of us doing the back-and-forth parts, kind of singing, kind of whispering. At some point I realized I knew every single word, every tiny pause and inflection. I don’t know if the last time we sang it together was actually the last time—but it might have been, and I didn’t get a notification.

So my Wrapped doesn’t really reflect “me” this year. It reflects the life I’m in the middle of living. It’s less a portrait of an individual and more a family snapshot; a record of sticky fingers on my screen, tiny voice singing off-key in the dark, a grown man accidentally memorizing a Broadway duet meant for kids.

Tell me you have a three-year-old without telling me you have a three-year-old. Just show me your Spotify Wrapped.