Stuck on Repeat

I’ve found myself feeling reflective these past few days and wanted to share. It might sound a bit stupid, but who hasn’t had stupid thoughts?

Basically, it has to do with my relationship with time. Let me explain. I was listening to a live album I really like called Ao Vivo em Lisboa by Resistência, and I started thinking about why I listen to so little current music (by current I mean from the 2000s, maybe even from 2010 onward).

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I listen mostly to music from the 70s, 80s, and 90s. The same goes for most of the movies I watch. Often on repeat, I find more comfort in songs, rhythms, and stories that feel familiar or that make me think. There’s something grounding about them, something that feels alive in a way I struggle to find in much of today’s mainstream output.

I don’t feel that this is just nostalgia, but rather as if something important was lost along the way. I wrote recently about why 90s movies feel more alive than almost anything on Netflix, and that reflection came from the same place. I argued that those films took risks, and that they weren’t built purely around algorithms, franchises, or binge metrics. They trusted the audience to pay attention.

But beneath all that, there’s a discomfort I frequently ignore: the fear of being stuck. I mean, am I choosing older art because it’s genuinely better, or because it’s “safe”? Sometimes I wonder if this habit shields me from disappointment, from engaging with the present and risking the conclusion that much of it feels hollow.

It’s tempting to say that today’s culture is worse, thinner, obsessed with profit above all else. Actually, I do believe there’s some truth there. Many modern formats feel rushed, overproduced, and strangely empty. In general, it’s content designed to be consumed and forgotten, and there are plenty of reports that back this up. But I also know that every era has its noise, and that what survives from the past is usually the best of it, not the average.

So the real question might not be whether things today are worse, but whether my resistance to them limits my growth. Taste, much like life, isn’t static. If I stay anchored only to what already feels meaningful, I risk turning reflection into stagnation. Maybe the challenge is learning to stay open without lowering standards, and to engage with the present critically, not defensively - which will already distance me from about 90% of the trash that’s produced nowadays, hehe. After all, time moves forward whether we like it or not, so it’s up to me to move with it, or just keep looking back.