All my relationships have started with a mixed CD. Every single one. It’s a telling experience to type “From” in my iTunes search window and see the ghosts from my past appear, by album, in alphabetical order.

And even despite the painful failures of those ventures, still I got some really good music out of them.

So I wasn’t surprised when I read of a study that says musical taste predicts sexual attraction. Of course this is not a novel concept; musical preference is something that connects all types of people, be it in a sexual manner or not.

It starts young; music is one of the first ways we start to express ourselves as adolescents. The cool kids listened indiscriminately to whatever songs were on the Top 40 charts; they connected to popular artists making popular songs. Kids wearing Chucks and graphic tees had screen names with Brand New or Dashboard shout-outs. Those wanting to appear rebellious and anti-establishment would listen to Insane Clown Posse and braid their hair like Korn frontman Jonathan Davis.

High School: A Time of Regrets.

Indicative of a 15-year-old’s desire to fit in, I listened to whatever the popular kids listened to. My individuality showcased itself through my gravitation toward the cover or acoustic versions of those hit songs. This way, I could keep in step with what the majority of my peers liked, but establish my difference in a small, accepted manner. Distinct, but not enough that it would make me a complete outcast.

Eventually, we grow up. We start listening to genres of music that fit our perceived social personality. A related 2008 study found that those believing themselves to be intellectual will be drawn to jazz or classical music, those hanging onto that rebel persona will have rock and metal on heavy rotation. Liberals gravitate toward folk and alt-rock. And this guy?

Franz Ferdinand, à la 2003. You know, before they sold out.

And thus, with our musical taste reflecting our values, we send out a beacon of audio pheromones to potential love interests.

To make things more complicated, the response to these beacons are not uniform across genders. For example, a man’s appreciation for rock makes him more attractive to women, but a woman’s proclivity for the same kind of music has the reverse effect. The opposite is true for classical music: a woman’s preference for Vivaldi makes her more attractive to men, while a man exhibiting the same taste will turn women off.

And country music repels everybody. For both men and women, the penchant for slide guitar and love ballads to your Chevy Silverado will gain you no points in the love department.

Shocking, I know.

Exploring the Psychology of Music journal online (it’s rather fascinating), I found some great articles on music and memory formation, particularly about the recall of events and emotional states through musical associations.

It’s classic Pavlovian conditioning. The music starts, and the ability to critically think about the situation goes out the window.

Sounds like love.

And I guess this makes sense. The greatest part about music is its ability to conjure feeling from seemingly nowhere. Sometimes it works to your benefit, and sometimes it doesn’t. You could be depressed one moment, then, BAM:

and it turns your mood around. You could optimistic about life one minute, and out of nowhere:

Elliott Smith comes on and ruins your day.

Or you could have gotten over him, and iTunes reaches into the recesses of your catalogue and breaks your heart all over again:

(This isn’t a personal heartbreak song. Check out the recent All Songs Considered show, Cry, Baby, Cry: Songs That Make You Weep for anecdote.)

In the lifespan of those mixed-tape relationships, I considered the words of those songs to be written by him, for me. Lying in bed listening to them, I could feel the weight of his body next to mine, and the warmth of his breath as he whispered the lyrics in my ear. I felt loved.

I still look forward to my next mixed-tape, even if, when it’s all over, the lyrics become a mournful eulogy.

I don’t really listen to those “From” albums anymore.

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