Before iTunes and Spotify instantized music, allowing any toddler with a few favorite Bieber songs to make a playlist, putting in the requisite hours of effort to make somebody a mixtape was something of a grand gesture.
Hitting record. Pausing. Recording. Pausing. Repeating ad infinitum.
It was a labor of true love. But then, somewhere on the way from analog to digital (and back to analog again, in some parts of Brooklyn), this soul-searching endeavor lost its reputation as heartfelt and became, well, nerdy. Which is an injustice if we’ve ever heard one.