The On-Repeat B-Side
Forgive me Arts desk, for I have sinned — at heart, I am a rewatcher, a relistener and a rereader. I am the bane of timely reviews and fresh notebooks: a relentless media repeater.
Before “The Office” was removed from Netflix, I watched it about 15 times. After it was removed, I bought the DVD box set. I’ve been listening to the same songs since middle school and only ever venture into new albums a few songs at a time, even from artists I claim to love (I’m sorry, Billie Eilish, I still only know four tracks on Happier Than Ever). I’ve seen the pre-COVID seasons of “Grey’s Anatomy” more than a dozen times, and when I scan my shelves for a book to read, nine times out of 10 whatever I pick will be something I’ve read before, likely more than once.
I don’t seek out the new and exciting all that often. It’s just not the way I’m wired. I like what I know, and I like it for more than just the fact that it’s familiar and comfortable; it speaks to me. And in many ways, it speaks for me.
There’s something to be said about who you are based on what you enjoy, especially what you enjoy so much that it becomes intertwined with your day-to-day life. The media we relentlessly return to attests to something more meaningful than a simple interest in entertainment or pleasure; to love something, to develop such a strong and deep connection to a piece of work that isn’t your own is a testament to why art matters so much in the first place. It is a testament to our ability to develop connection, to the value of expression and to who we are.
Oftentimes, the art we love represents complex parts of ourselves that we can’t find reliably and consistently mirrored anywhere else. I know “Grey’s Anatomy” is cringeworthy, but there’s something about the way they love so dramatically and intensely that feels real to me. All the songs that have moved from playlist to playlist since I was 13 hold a piece of my soul that I’ve stored within their melodies, their lyrics worn smooth in my mind like a rock shaped by the river’s current. They’re each a little refuge I’ve found, in which I can feel like someone else out there knows intimately this specific piece of who I am, and has somehow written it down.
All of this is to say, we are what we love. How could we not come back to it — to ourselves?
In the On Repeat B-Side, Daily Arts writers explore who they are by writing about the television, film and music they love. Maybe you’ll find a piece of yourself here — reread as many times as you’d like.
Daily Arts Writer Audrey Hollenbaugh can be reached at aehollen@umich.edu.
