The Art of the Mixtape
Back in the day, making a mixtape was basically print registration for music. You’d sit there with your cassette recorder, one finger hovering over the pause button, waiting for the DJ to stop talking over the intro. Timing was everything. One slip and your romantic mix for “that girl from science class” had a Weather Report, boom-smack in the middle of November Rain.
It was design craft in audio form — precise, nerve-wracking, and done with love (and often a Bic pen to rewind the tape).
Playlists on Demand
Fast-forward to 2025, and my 6-year-old just yells, “Hey Spotify, play Bluey Dance Mode!” or “Hey Google, Peppa Pig soundtrack!” And boom — instant music, no effort, no prayer to the gods of FM radio. My 4-year-old has her own playlist that’s basically Kpop Demon Hunters on repeat, while the 2-year-old just shuffles between the Wiggles and Peppa Pig bangers.
It’s music on demand. No skill, no sweat, no pencil rewinds.
Mixtape as a Print Job
Recording a mixtape was like running an offset press. You planned, you proofed, you prayed. Each track lined up like colour plates on a job — mis-time it and the whole thing was out of register. And if you wanted to get fancy? Hand-lettered track listings on the cassette inlay — basically pre-digital typography practice.
Now? Playlists are Canva for music. Drag, drop, done. It works — but don’t pretend it’s the same craftsmanship.
Bluey, Then and Now
Here’s the kicker: my kids will never know the joy of listening to the radio all day just to catch your favourite song and hit record. For them, Bluey’s Keepy Uppy song is one shout away. I used to pray Smells Like Teen Spirit would come on Triple J. They bark orders at Google and complain if it’s not the right version.
Bandit Heeler teaching Bingo to play the recorder has more patience than I ever had trying to capture a full track without the DJ ruining it.
The Retro Dad Verdict
Mixtapes were messy, stressful, and beautiful. They meant something because they took effort. Playlists? They’re convenient, disposable, instantly forgettable.
But — when I’m knee-deep in school runs, print deadlines, and three kids under six all yelling different requests — maybe instant Baby Shark on Spotify isn’t the worst invention in the world.
Retro Dad: Rewinding childhood, one tantrum at a time.
Rob Allen is a designer-dad, print tragic, and the voice behind Retro Dad and The Hernia Diaries. With 25 years in the design and print world — and three kids under six running the home office like tiny art directors — Rob tells stories where Pantone swatches meet Peppa Pig, and where print deadlines collide with parenting chaos. When he’s not juggling labels, websites, and school pick-ups, he’s probably rewinding his own childhood memories for blog material.
Add comment
Comments