Listening to music

Do you remember those afternoons when - as soon as we returned from school or college, and weekends were no exception - we would indulge ourselves so much in the music and play it to the floor, completely forgetting that there are neighbors living on the other side of the walls? Melodies and basses from children's rooms and living rooms were good at shaking the windows, and sometimes the entire entrance, until someone slammed on the radiator or rang the doorbell to warn.

Back then, you knew exactly who in the building was listening to what and what their musical taste was. Because music was something that perhaps said the most about us: it was a kind of sign of recognition. It passed through walls, open windows and corridors and, whether we wanted it or not, became part of the common space. She was noisy, extroverted and sometimes hard-working, but there was also something distinctly social in her assertiveness: a song from one apartment could become the soundtrack of an entire floor.

However, such types of listening to music have mostly died down. In support of this, recent research shows that as many as 78 percent of users of popular streaming services listen to music exclusively through headphones. Music is thus no longer an occasion for gathering, but rather a means of withdrawing into one's own world. At the root of that habit lies something broader than technology itself. It is about another variation of individualism, one of the key characteristics of modern society. What used to be shared with others is now more often adapted to the individual - his sensibility, lifestyle and current circumstances.

Such a principle has already profoundly reshaped the way people work, spend their free time, and create partnerships. It gradually affected the attitude towards art: music is chosen and consumed according to the same logic by which other aspects of everyday life are arranged - according to personal affinities and current needs. What used to be a shared experience is increasingly becoming precisely tailored content. The algorithm knows it best.

Generation Z lives this symbiosis with headphones most intensely. Growing up with smartphones, she is used to having music at her fingertips, at any time and for any occasion. On average, young people spend more than four hours a day streaming, while studies show that as many as 64 percent of employees from this generation say that headphones have become an indispensable work tool for them, but also a kind of "shield" from colleagues and the outside world. In addition, music has become a quick way to regulate mood. If they need to wake up, calm down or concentrate, all they have to do is choose the appropriate song or playlist. Music thus became a kind of ultra-fast dopamine: it should immediately "work", to lift, calm or divert attention. As moods change more quickly, music becomes a more convenient way to adjust them on the fly.

My X generation, on the other hand, used the Walkman or Discman with headphones mostly as a necessary evil - just to break up a long bus or train ride between two cities. However, there was also a different, important ritual: listening to new records together with friends of the same taste. The record player starts up, the needle rests on the vinyl and the album is played from A1 to B5, without any skipping, but in order and in its entirety. Music was not just a sound background of everyday life, but an event to which time and attention was devoted.

Today, it seems, headphones have become an impermeable boundary between young people and the world around them. They do not necessarily mean withdrawal, but allow them to determine for themselves when they will hear the environment and when they will simply turn it off. Parents of teenagers, as well as those with younger colleagues in the office, know exactly what I'm talking about. While "headphones" seem to give perfect control over what reaches the ears, the question is what is gained and what is lost with this control. We certainly gained silence in the apartment and peace in the neighborhood, but in return we lost part of the immediacy of the music and that spontaneous solidarity that arises when everyone, at the same moment, listens and feels the same. Music became more practical, quieter and more personal, but it lost some of its immediacy and social dimension. It is less and less a common experience, and more and more often something that everyone carries in their own little sound bubble.

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