Me + Pandora = ?

Pandora and I have a love-hate relationship.

When I first discovered this Internet radio that plays you songs it thinks you’ll like, I was intrigued. I liked being able to enter the name of a favorite artist of mine, and, no matter how obscure, Pandora could pull from its depths a song by that artist. I liked that it also played songs by other artists I enjoyed, and that it could even play some new music that I hadn’t heard before but was akin to my tastes. I liked that I could skip over songs I didn’t want to hear, and that by “liking” and “disliking” certain songs, Pandora would learn over time exactly what my tastes were.

But I quickly became annoyed with it. After Pandora’s initial novelty wore off, I realized what most music listeners realize about themselves but don’t really want to admit: I don’t want to hear new music. I want my music. I mean, sometimes I’m open to new music if someone who knows my tastes really well suggests a band. But Pandora and I weren’t at this stage in our relationship yet. Pandora was just beginning to learn my tastes, and it often guessed wrong.

Which was okay, at first. If it played a song I didn’t like, I’d just press the thumbs down button, and Pandora would be very polite and apologetic. “Sorry about that,” it would say to me, “We’ll skip that song and we’ll never play it on this station again.” Pandora knew it had fucked up, and it clearly felt guilty about misjudging my personality and my musical tastes so grossly. But I accepted its apology: after all, it had been kind enough to skip the song for me.

Pandora had good days and bad days. Sometimes it would be on a roll, playing song after song that I enjoyed, with very few that I had to skip over. But there were other times when it just couldn’t seem to get it right. I would have to skip a few songs in a row, and it would feel so bad about being wrong that it would just fall back on its safety net and play a song by the original artist for which my station was named. But then after that song, it would play a few more bombs, and I’d have to skip over so many that I would max out my “skip” allowance.

This is Pandora’s worst feature, and it knows it. If you “dislike” or skip over too many songs per hour, it thinks you’re insulting its ability to guess your tastes, and it gets uppity and passive-aggressive. It refuses to skip the song, and displays some message that places the blame on someone else. “Our music licenses only allow you to skip over a certain number of songs per hour,” it tells you, trying to rid itself of all responsibility. And then it gets an attitude. Onto the bottom of the message, Pandora throws in, “If you want to listen to something else, try another station.” Like it’s your fault Pandora can’t come up with enough likable songs per hour. Like it isn’t Pandora’s fault it can’t get its shit together and just do its job.

Nevertheless, as rude as Pandora was, I tended to let it go in the beginning, because its nasty attitude was clearly just stemming from the fact that it felt bad about doing so poorly, and it was worried that I’d give up on it and start another station instead of continuing to hone this one. Besides, we still had good moments together. It got so happy and proud of itself when I “thumbs upped” a song. “We’re glad you like it,” Pandora announced. “We’ll try to play more songs like this one.”

Time went on, and Pandora began to understand me a little better. It was getting a much better feel of what was and was not okay to play for me. But sometimes we would still get into standoffs. When I would skip a few songs in a row but manage to stay inside my skip limit, it would get frustrated at me and throw me into the care of a commercial so it could go cool off a little. And then it would come back, feeling a little better, and it would play a string of marginally acceptable songs that I would have liked to skip, but allowed to play so I could save my skips for really terrible songs. I knew what it was doing, so I would go an hour or so without paying any attention to it, simply allowing it to play song after song with no feedback on my part. Pandora didn’t like this. It can’t stand being neglected. So when I ignored it, it would eventually tuck its tail between its legs and beg for attention by shutting off and displaying a message that pathetically asked me, “Are you still listening?” It would stay like this until I had to come back and press “I’m still listening” begrudgingly, forced to acknowledge its existence. Pandora then got so excited I was back that it would take things a step too far, ejaculating out a video commercial that I had to sit and watch before my music came back.

Those damn commercials. They are Pandora’s greatest weapon. Or, at least, I thought they were its greatest weapon. That was before December.

December was a particularly tense month for Pandora and I. Due to final projects and papers, I spent a lot of time in front of a computer, which greatly increased my Pandora usage. I was stressed and on edge, and I’m sure I was sending mixed messages to Pandora, changing “likes” to “dislikes” and skipping over songs I usually didn’t. It must have sensed my unease, and it reacted negatively. I reached my skip limit several times a day. Pandora was throwing video commercials in my face left and right. And it refused to display anything on the side of the screen but that giant pink cupcake and that really gorgeous, $20,000 engagement ring, both of which I would have given an arm for. Our relationship was at its lowest point yet, and I didn’t think it could get any worse.

Until Pandora dropped me a little email.

It was worded very diplomatically. In the kindest terms possible, Pandora explained to me that its free version allowed listeners 40 hours of music a month, and warned me that I was approaching this limit. It gave me an ultimatum: I could either pay 99 cents to have “unlimited” listening for the rest of the month, or I could just continue to listen until my 40 hours were up, Pandora shut off, and I would have to go without it until January.

I was outraged. After all these months, this was how Pandora was thanking me? I had endured its attitude, watched its countless commercials, and gritted my teeth through the sporadic Kenny G song on my Mozart station, only to be told that my business was only appreciated up to a certain point? Pandora had dealt a low blow, a low blow indeed.

But the email was symbolic of the crucial truth we had both come to realize: over the months, Pandora had changed my music tastes. I had spent so much time listening to happy country music that I no longer had much of a desire to listen to the depressing, pretentious indie rock that filled my iTunes library. But, as I wasn’t ready to come to terms with this somewhat embarrassing change in my personality just yet, I refused to actually download any country music. No, I needed Pandora if I wanted my country fix.

And there it was. Pandora had the upper hand on me. It always would. I grappled with this fact until I reached my 40 hour limit, at which point I did what Pandora and I had both known I would: I paid the 99 cents. And I got back the same rude, ad-filled, skip-resistant Pandora that I’d always had. Except I’d always put up with it because it was free. Now I had paid for it. It was dirty money. And it was simultaneously the best and worst 99 cents I’d ever spent.

Pandora and I haven’t reached this low point again. For my birthday in February, Brad bought me a year’s subscription to Pandora One, the ad-free, high quality audio version of Pandora. This means that Pandora has lost its commercials weapon, and as a result, I think we get along better. I’ve noticed an increase in songs I’ve “thumbs-upped,” although I’m not sure if that’s an official perk of Pandora One or if it’s just being nicer to me because I’m paying it. Either way, I consequently reach my “skip limit” less often, which makes Pandora feel better about itself. The “Are you still listening?” timeout has increased from one hour to five hours, so it’s less whiny and pathetic. All around, we have a better relationship. But every once in a while, Pandora will still toss in a Sean Kingston song (I don’t even know who that is, but he’s a rapper, and he just came on my country station) when I’ve already reached my skip limit, and I have to listen to the terrible song like I enjoy it while Pandora watches me suffer, and it laughs.

It’s also begun to manifest its occasional frustration with me in a new way: when I’m listening to Pandora on my phone, every once in a while it will stop playing in the middle of a song and just skip to the next one. I can’t figure out why it does this, but its lack of a back/rewind button forces me to give up on trying to enjoy the rest of Gary Allan’s “Watching Airplanes” and endure “The Way You Love Me” by Faith Hill- a song I’m not really fond of, but I don’t resent it enough to waste a “skip” on it. As it is with so many other songs Pandora chooses to play.

That’s where it really gets you.