Mixed messages

A girl gave me my first mixtape in high school. On a real cassette. Actually it was all of David Byrne’s “Uh-Oh” (1992) with “What I Like About You” and other songs added on the leftover tape.

Then there was the tape I never gave that girl from my summer internship. It started with Fugazi’s “Do You Like Me.” Asinine.

Over time the subtext of the mixes I gave and received modulated from romance to respectability. Friends introduced me to pivotal material (The Dismemberment Plan’s “Memory Machine,” the Persuasions’ cover of “Man in Me,” The High Dials’ “Desiderata”), while I tried to get others excited about XTC, Chicago, and Medeski Martin & Wood.

In modern times I exchange mix CDs with a friend at the end of every year. All year I’m assembling playlists of candidate songs that, starting around Thanksgiving weekend, get juxtaposed and winnowed until the perfect mix emerges. All this preparation is done in anticipation of receiving a CD that’s just as carefully curated.

There’s still a hint of that ulterior motive; at the very least there’s a little friendly competition going on. Each creator wishes to have found the most obscure gem, or to have demonstrated the most legit taste.

There’s at least a little altruism at work here too: the desire to expose others to worthwhile music. But following any exchange comes anxious anticipation. Will others see my darlings as I see them? Will anyone remark on them?

There’s much to be said for placing a familiar favorite at just the right spot. But the real excitement is in the unknown, and the new favorite songs or albums or bands hiding there.

For this reason my policy is to withhold the tracklist. The listening experience ought to be free of any prejudices the listener may have formed about a band whose name they recognize. The song titles should not make an impression before the sound itself does. Only once a recipient has satisfied me that they’ve listened carefully do I divulge my secrets.

That said, the contents of Spotify playlists are not anonymous, and I want to share one here. You may listen only if you promise to keep the openest of minds.

A note about my nom de mix: DJ Welfare Mockeries is the weirdest anagram I could make out of my name. I would never mock welfare or its recipients.