As is true of every piece of music, there are many ways of listening to Clairo’s Immunity. Like many others, my first encounter with her was through her Spotify hit, “Sofia.” I listened to her whole debut album for the first time today on a plane flight home from Tampa. Interestingly, but perhaps unsurprisingly, my second listen–as I write this–is totally different.

Clairo’s album is not airplane music, it is digital music. It sounds as if it was recorded exclusively to be played in bedrooms and laptops, or–potentially–in headphones while walking outdoors.

Immunity is sad-girl music at its best. I tend to put Clairo in the same “bucket” as Mitski, but the two have considerably different forms of music. Mitski leans into rock sounds, belting out the romantic desire she feels towards other women, releasing the passion and pain when things don’t work out. Clairo’s music, in contrast, is almost like listening to a rhythmic conversation–the quiet murmuring sounds two people make when they care about each other and are trying to respect others’ privacy.

Interestingly, my mind doesn’t differentiate between the songs here very clearly. This does not mean that the songs lack difference; it is more that the album was designed to be played in the background while doing other things. Alternatively, each of the songs could be pulled out and placed on any of Spotify’s numerous algorithmically-generated vibe playlists. That the album is so Spotify-able is both a strength and a weakness: the music is perfect for most purposes, but it doesn’t forge ahead the way that it otherwise might.

Clairo’s Immunity is a decent album, but it’s best played in the background. It’s lo-fi-influenced beats make for great sounds while studying, chatting with a friend, or doing some serious writing. At the same time, I wouldn’t care to see Clairo in concert. Rather than this necessarily be a weakness, we might read it as a sign of the changing nature of music in the 21st century.