Before you could send somebody a song with one tap, you had to make them a mixtape. And that took work.
You’d sit by the radio, finger hovering over the record button, waiting for your song to come on — and then hoping the DJ wouldn’t talk over the intro. Or you’d borrow a friend’s album and record it track by track, in exactly the right order. The order mattered. The first song said how you felt. The last song said what you couldn’t.
A mixtape was personal in a way a playlist never will be. You decorated the case, wrote the track list in your best handwriting, and gave it to somebody knowing they’d hear every song and know it was for them.
What was on your mixtape — the one you made, or the one somebody made for you?
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