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As time progresses, people are listening to more and more music. Music now makes its way everywhere — grocery stores, hotel lobbies, restaurants; many play it while they are showering or when they are studying. A global study done at the end of 2023 done by the International Federation of the Phonographic Industry found that the amount of time a person spends listening to music per week has gone up by well over half an hour since 2022. From 2021 to 2022 the uptick was even sharper — up by almost 2 hours a week. Keep in mind that these increases happened over the course of a year.

Music is obviously pleasing. It offers the possibility of an escape into a different realm, one in which time and sound are tightly organized to construct something altogether different from everyday life. But this very escape may be a double-edged sword, especially now that music is so accessible. Part of what makes music so amazing is that the baseline of sound in the world tends to be silence, or at least some form of chaos; the springing up of harmony out of nothing is part of music’s power. Constantly pouring it out of so many channels removes its magic.

This is largely due to the shift in how sound is delivered. The nature of vinyl records made music listening more of a ritual — once the record was on people typically listened intently until the whole thing was over, at least before they became familiar enough with the record to skip around. Even CDs provided a very different experience — they made it easier to skip around, but they were bought as unified artistic products. Going even further into the past — let’s say the 1800s before recorded audio, the only way to hear music was to listen to it played live. The direct physicality of music was part of its charm.

Nowadays we have algorithms handing us ready-made playlists, often tossing together vastly different genres. In some ways, this is an advantage. Never before has it been so easy to switch around between all kinds of music, and there’s an undeniable pleasure in the experience of shuffling a playlist. But the ease and pleasure that playlists offer us can detract from the songs; much of the effect of playlists is the surprise we experience when an unknown song begins. This novelty, however, is ultimately detrimental to the content of the song itself; by shifting our focus to the moment in between when one song ends and another begins, playlists may actually be taking our attention away from the actual music.

Platforms like TikTok have capitalized on the nature of this surprise effect, changing it from a novelty at the beginning of a song to the main allure of the platform. TikTok gains most of its addictive capacity from the dopamine that constantly switching into vastly different musical landscapes creates. Music, then, becomes completely sidelined for a momentary effect. TikTok has so much market power that artists have begun to craft their songs to service the platform. In response to songs being sped up and slowed down on TikTok, people like Billie Eilish and Sabrina Carpenter have released versions of their songs at different speeds to please the market. In general, many now make songs with the goal of thinking up a moment or two that can dazzle the TikTok audience and neglect the rest of those songs.

Other institutions have also realized the advantage of using music as a means for their ends. At some point around the 1970s, restaurants figured out that depending on the music they played, they could influence the behavior of their customers — a phenomenon which has only increased in prevalence since then. Many sites with restaurant management advice claim that if a restaurant wants their customers in and out more quickly, all they have to do is play louder, faster tracks. Most importantly, the music has to be “on brand” — so as not to create a dissonance between the listening experience and the dining one. This does a similar thing to TikTok. The music that is being played no longer exists for itself, it exists at the service of a separate experience. Occasionally using music as background is fine, but if we continue relegating it to background stimulation, art has a problem.

Headphones have also made it easier for us to tune out at any moment. Many put in headphones — I’m certainly guilty of this — when we have to do anything that doesn’t involve our ears. Listening to music while studying is also common, because it seems to help people work by providing extra stimulation. All of these new services and abilities may have individual benefits, but overall they are more likely to be destructive because they are pulling us away from direct experience with the notes.

The role of music — its intrinsic relationship to humanity — is shifting, quite possibly to a large extent. And that shift, while counterintuitively brought about by a larger prevalence of music, is sidelining music to the role of mere entertainment. Music keeps us busy and helps us function by providing us with the constant noise we seem to enjoy. Music as a potential vessel for enlightenment, however, is slowly, but surely disappearing. That’s not to say there isn’t good music coming out, but the listener’s relationship with music is becoming less grateful and increasingly nonchalant.

All art deserves our full attention. When music becomes a nuisance because of its availability, we are detracting from its fundamental value, which is most appreciated when it’s closely listened to. Do we really need the terribly sentimental love songs played from a grainy speaker at CVS and do we really need to put on headphones when we’re just taking a walk to get groceries? Do we always need to use playlists? In a time where artistry is in danger of being completely sidelined by commercial incentives, we as consumers have a responsibility to to treat music with the respect it deserves. We can start by listening to music less, so that when we listen, we can listen properly.