Owning CDs in 2026 may seem counterintuitive given the easy availability of a near-endless variety of music on streaming platforms such as Spotify and Apple Music. Unlike online music, physical discs take up space, require a separate device to play and can be broken or scratched all too easily. Recently, however, listening to some of my favorite albums on CD has inspired me to consider the aspects of physical music that cannot be replaced by streaming. I find that the sense of ownership, the physicality and the intentionality associated with CDs invite a fuller, more present listening experience.
First, from a practical perspective, owning a CD is more reliable than subscribing to a streaming service. Purchasing a physical object affords permanence, whereas long-term access to music on Spotify is never guaranteed. Artists can choose to remove their music from streaming services, often as a form of protest against a platform’s political or business positions; Spotify, for example, is often criticized for poorly compensating its artists. Singer and guitarist Will Anderson of the band Hotline TNT, whose music is no longer available on Spotify, observes, “when someone buys one of our records at a show, no one’s going to take the music off their shelf overnight like we just did with Spotify.” Anderson is right: The CDs I own will always be there for me to enjoy, no matter how the music streaming landscape changes in the future.
The physicality of a CD has sentimental, as well as practical, appeal. Even when I’m not listening to my CDs, their cases on my bookshelf give tangible form to the albums I love. Just like wall posters or band T-shirts, these CDs affirm an aspect of my identity by embodying my favorite music. Additionally, the lyric booklets that often accompany CDs enrich the listening experience by offering insight into the artist’s creative vision and encouraging a deeper level of immersion in the music. Though CDs can be easily damaged, their fragility is meaningful, too; the care and respect necessary to keep a disc in good condition reminds me how much I value the music it holds.
For me, the most meaningful benefit of CDs over streaming is the intentionality I associate with physical forms of music. Today, it is all too easy to use music as mere background noise, especially with algorithmic autoplay ensuring that listeners never face a moment of silence. Choosing and playing a CD requires a much more conscious decision on the listener’s part than simply pressing shuffle on an hours-long playlist, and for me, this thoughtfulness invites a more active and engaged style of listening. I think choice overload, a phenomenon in which people are less satisfied with their decisions when given too many options, is also likely to diminish the pleasure of streamed music. With the ability to play any of over 100 million songs at the tap of a finger, there is always something else — and maybe something better — to listen to. When choosing among my small collection of CDs, it is easier to feel fully satisfied with the one I end up selecting.
The intentionality I feel with my CDs contrasts sharply with the distraction that is near inescapable when listening to music on a smartphone. When I open Spotify, I am immediately met with a barrage of options: my eight most recently played albums and playlists, an assortment of mixes recommended based on my listening habits, suggested new releases, an AI search bar and much more. Once I pick a song, I can see album art, the song’s lyrics, a blurb about the artist, music videos, upcoming concerts and advertisements for merch. Though all these supplements are often interesting and valuable, the overload of information detracts from my engagement with the music. Listening via a CD eliminates all elements but the most important: the song itself, perhaps accompanied by a lyric sheet. Part of the beauty of CDs and other physical vessels for music is their presentation of songs as art that deserves listeners’ full attention rather than as mindless online content.
Yet, in many ways, the experience of listening to a song on CD is identical to the experience of streaming the track. A plastic disc has no power on its own to create a uniquely profound musical encounter; it is certainly possible to listen with intentionality on a streaming service, just as it is much too easy to get distracted while listening to a CD. What truly makes a difference in the quality of my listening experience is my mindset, not the format itself. I love listening to music with my full attention and with a sense of purpose, and I find that using a CD reminds me to cultivate this intentional approach.
Given the undeniable advantages of streaming (convenience, portability and an enormous catalog, to name a few), my personal solution is to own select CDs of the albums that are most important to me. As much as I love CDs, in practice almost all my listening takes place on Spotify for practical reasons. I appreciate streaming when I want to discover new artists, listen to a playlist rather than an album, hear individual songs my friends have recommended or simply listen to an album I don’t yet own. But even without committing to the expense and inconvenience of music in a physical format, you can bring intentionality to your listening. All it takes is the deliberate decision to set the phone down and let the music speak for itself.
Raina Lockwood is a junior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at rl978@cornell.edu.
