There is an intimacy to community and sharing. I was trying to explain my girlfriend the other day about how I developed my taste for (what I think is) good music, and I realized I’ve also always struggled to verbalize why I love sharing music - and other forms of media - with people I love. Core memory, as they say, unlocked? Uncovered?

“Do you know RÜFÜS?”
“Omg yes, I love RÜFÜS DU SOL! I’ve followed for a long time now.”
“How do you find these things?”
Me, thinking, word vomiting…
“You know, I dunno. I just follow what I like, my own taste. I’ve always shared with others, it’s important to me. And I’ll sometimes find new music that way, or shared playlists, or other people’s playlists…”

Mixtapes and burning CDs - that’s how I connected with people in this country I immigrated to. It took me a while to make real friends, but the ones I remember - the ones I’m still friends with. We connected by sharing and trading. Pokémon cards, NES cartridges. Then, it became mixtapes and burning CDs. I still remember my friend Nishtha burned a copy of Meteora for me because I couldn’t afford it.

Sharing music is one of the most intimate acts of love I’ve ever known. The intentionality of picking out songs, the irreversible act of recording tracks to a tape or CD. You don’t always know what your friends will like, but they’ll know that you took the time to share music that you love and you hope they will love too.

Movies, too. I have a fond attachment to great cinema. I almost went into film! I had a knack for editing and cinematography. Explaining shots, production decisions, why this film is great or why I love it so much, and sharing my VHS or DVD copy of that film - also one of the most intimate acts of love.

I’ve been finding that this act of intimate sharing has slowly been disappearing in a sea of passive, mindless consumption. We share links to Spotify or Apple Music songs that never get listened to. Or get listened to mindlessly in the background. “Oh that was nice I guess”, only to disappear into the ether.

Shared playlists are now all that remain as the last bastion of this once intimate act of asking for someone’s attention - and giving them your time and intentionality as an act of love.

“Why don’t you just burn a mixtape for her?”, my brother asked me last weekend.

He had a great point.