I can always choose my music, down to a moment of a song. The feeling I want to get when I click on a song, knowing that this feeling is slightly different than that of another song, and I can have this exact feeling. The illusion that I can control my feelings, my inner world. The song won’t die=my feelings are under my control=I can conjure feeling x when I so wish.
My music library presents a world of perfect instruments, never a cheap guitar, the broken piano at a cafe. A world of perfect musicians— never to be embarrassed, nor are we ever to be disappointed. Anti-folk (e.g. early Beck, Kimya Dawson) seeks to remedy this exclusion.
A diva vs a folk singer— the folk singer’s voice becomes part of the song, one with the song. A diva is always somehow trying to assert her own voice as the beautiful object, the song is incidental, treated as mere material. One cannot lose oneself in one of her songs simply because she doesn’t lose herself in the song.
Songs have different ranges of temporal attention focus. For an electronica song, it’s short: a few seconds. A song with a strong and elongated melody extends this range. Different ranges have different psychological effects.