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This article is part of <\/span><\/i>Upstream,<\/span><\/i><\/a> The Daily Wire\u2019s new home for culture and lifestyle. Real human insight and human stories \u2014 from our featured writers to you.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n ***<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n Back in the \u201980s and \u201990s, no one had ChatGPT to find the words to say how she really felt. Instead, everyone had access to the world\u2019s most reliable form of communication: the cassette mixtape. Cool kids mastered the fine art of meticulously assembling other people\u2019s songs with a flow that told a story, capturing the vibe in Sharpie, adding a makeshift \u201calbum cover\u201d revealing each track so you could fast-forward to find it, and neatly folding everything into a clear plastic case. After all that work, gifting the epic masterpiece to its recipient felt as majestic as lighting the Olympic flame.<\/span><\/p>\n First-gen mixtapes were totally rad manna from heaven. <\/span>Never had anyone heard these songs in this order in their <\/span>lives<\/span><\/i>.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Smash cut to now, NFL reporter <\/span>Dianna Russini<\/span> sure understood the power of a playlist when she reportedly made one on Spotify<\/a> for then-Titans Head Coach Mike Vrabel back in 2022. The catch was that both of them were (and still are) married to other people. Oops. Supposedly designed to pump Coach up after a series of losses, it was one hour and nine minutes of pure, unadulterated proof of adultery. At least according to the court of public opinion, which is always in session.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Track 1: \u201c<\/span>Cuff It<\/span><\/a>\u201d by Beyonc\u00e9 starts out like, \u201cI feel like falling in love, I\u2019m in the mood to f*ck something up.\u201d Say less, Dianna. The sunny R&B beat doesn\u2019t make the line \u201cCan I sit on top of you?\u201d any more okay when it ain\u2019t ya husband.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n It wasn\u2019t a great look considering the Spotify debacle happened two years into what we know about the timeline of their alleged affair, but Track 2 (\u201c<\/span>Big Energy<\/span><\/a>\u201d by Latto) revealed Dianna\u2019s real feelings for Big Mike through song. \u201cI could be your fantasy, I can tell you got big d*ck energy.\u201d Maybe she didn\u2019t have time to dash off a burner text or book a \u201cwork trip\u201d to a casino in <\/span>Mississippi<\/span><\/a>, but she knew Mike could get away from <\/span>his wife, Jen,<\/span><\/a> to listen to \u201c<\/span>Pump It Louder<\/span><\/a>\u201d by Ti\u00ebsto and the Black Eyed Peas, thinking warmly of how much his colleague Dianna cared about his football career. His big, wandering football career.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Someone tell this reporter we can search public Spotify playlists. And that sharing your \u201c<\/span>TURNIN THE PAGE<\/span><\/a>\u201d compilation with someone named \u201cMike\u201d made it too easy. There\u2019s no way she didn\u2019t want to get caught and criminally charged with bad taste in music. Tracks by Styx, Van Halen, Guns N\u2019 Roses, and KISS seemed less \u201cworkout playlist\u201d and more like <\/span>Vrabel\u2019s reported<\/span><\/a> favorite way to pump up the volume.<\/span><\/p>\n Dianna allegedly named <\/span>her firstborn son Mike<\/span><\/a> after her NFL side piece. It\u2019s not like she\u2019s suffering from excessive creativity.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The other day outside my apartment building, I noticed a boom box with none of the usual bells and whistles of modern \u201cghetto blasters.\u201d This matte gray OG featured only a single cassette tape slot and a power cord. It was obviously a trap set by 1980s aliens.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I wondered aloud to my dog about who\u2019s going for a bulky cassette setup over streamlined Apple Music. Analog audio like this requires excruciating commitment to preserve it: avoiding <\/span>humidity<\/span><\/a>, dust, and sun. The magnetic film degrades with every play (and rewind!) and can spontaneously spew its guts at any moment.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n It\u2019s also sturdy and portable. And decades after it went mainstream, the mixtape is still the greatest medium for sound ever invented.<\/span><\/p>\n Cassettes shaped the future of the music industry. Originally invented in <\/span>1963<\/span><\/a>, mixtapes took off as a broke-friendly strategy for aspiring <\/span>hip-hop artists<\/span><\/a> to get their tracks into the hands of fans. Once the <\/span>WalkMan came along in \u201979<\/span><\/a>, listening to music via two-by-four-inch plastic became everyone\u2019s favorite way of tuning in.<\/span><\/p>\n Mixtapes also served as mini hubs of self-expression, where anyone could be an artist through song and the creative use of Xerox machines and colored pencils. With personalized <\/span>liner notes<\/span><\/a> dedicated to none other than the recipient, \u201cCrystal\u2019s Mix\u201d felt like an on-air radio dedication from the Billboard Hot 100 chart to regular, totally awesome Crystal.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n It\u2019s a little more complicated now that most of us don\u2019t stuff tape players into our back pockets before heading out, but there\u2019s a growing fanbase for mixtapes on cassette. Satisfying the need to <\/span>go back in time<\/span><\/a> without leaving the sofa, enthusiasts on forums such as <\/span>r\/cassetteculture<\/span><\/a> share everything from lo-fi concert recordings to art inspo, titling tips, and mixes for every moment.<\/span><\/p>\n Major artists answer Gen Z\u2019s call for old-school by wooing the cassette set. <\/span>Chappell Roan<\/span><\/a>, <\/span>Sabrina Carpenter<\/span><\/a>, and <\/span>Taylor Swift<\/span><\/a> are all available on plastic for more than anyone should pay for something that melts in your car.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019m cool with a digital playlist. But I\u2019m not over here clasping my hands under my chin, staring out the window, dreaming about Spotify. Maybe it\u2019s just me, but random ads about inflammation from Jardiance diabetes meds don\u2019t exactly set the mood.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I got an unsolicited mixtape from a classmate once. Schmave Schmith (his name has been changed) in junior high. I\u2019m pretty sure Schmave hoped the sonic tapestry would wrap me up in the crush he was feeling. But the first emotional beats of U2\u2019s \u201c<\/span>With or Without You<\/span><\/a>\u201d landed between my ears like a wet blanket. I wasn\u2019t ready for the adult feels of \u201cI caaan\u2019t liiiiiiiive \u2026 with or without you.\u201d <\/span>I was a definite \u201cwithout you\u201d as I listened to the first track of \u201cFor Lauren\u201d in my bedroom at a volume my parents couldn\u2019t hear, even if they were glued to the other side of my door. I pressed eject, unspooled the tape myself, and chucked it in the trash.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I found the same song now, on YouTube, remastered and streamed more than 217 million times. It still gives me the heebie-jeebies, but only because mixtapes meant something. They said something real and pure, with an underground ritual required for their creation that just can\u2019t be replicated with links. <\/span>Ella Langley<\/span><\/a> and <\/span>Alex Warren<\/span><\/a> might make people fall in love or become best friends, but their perfectly tuned tracks have nothing on the timeless warbled melodies of \u201cSUMMER ROADTRIP \u201999!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Maybe we\u2019ll never be able to revisit the glory days of mixtapes. But we have Spotify bangers like Dianna Russini\u2019s Track 3 \u201c<\/span>Break My Soul<\/span><\/a>\u201d by Beyonc\u00e9 to help us express the words we can\u2019t, or really should never, say.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n