Slow Social — The Luxury of Listening
By Rafi Mercer
Today I’m trying to rest. The world is still moving, of course — feeds updating, numbers climbing — but I’ve stopped chasing it for a while. Just the dog beside me, a quiet room, and the thought that maybe we’ve all forgotten how to share without performing.
I’ve written over a thousand pieces now. Venues, cities, sounds, albums, the quiet culture of listening — they’ve all found their place within Tracks & Tales. Tens of thousands of people have slowed down long enough to stumble across them, to read, to listen. Yet it still feels like I’m only sketching the outline of something larger. A guide, not a gospel. A map made in pencil, not ink.
Maybe that’s what slow social really means.
Social media promised connection but traded it for speed. The faster you speak, the more you’re heard; the more you show, the more you’re seen. It becomes a loop of performance — and somewhere in the noise, the sincerity slips away.
Slow social moves differently. It’s the quiet conversation that lingers after the party ends. It’s not about reach or rhythm; it’s about presence. The small circle, the unhurried message, the way a story can find its way into someone’s day without shouting.
That’s what Tracks & Tales has always tried to be — not another feed, but a listening space. A living archive for people who still value attention. A quiet rebellion against the pace of everything else.
Because maybe luxury now isn’t measured in what we own, but how deeply we listen. Maybe connection isn’t about being everywhere — it’s about being here, fully.
So I’ll stay still today. No scrolling, no chasing. Just the sound of the room, the soft weight of a page loading slowly, the small grace of being heard without asking.
Rafi Mercer writes about the spaces where music matters.
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