A long time ago, when Surge was widely available for purchase and people didn't understand why jean jackets were a bad idea, getting your hands on your favorite music was an incredible undertaking compared to the world we live in today.
There were a few ways to amass a music collection, the least desirable of which was sitting next to said radio with a tape recorder and hoping the DJ didn't talk too much when it came on again.
You could go technically go out and buy an album, but you did so hoping Hootie and the Blowfish were capable of producing 11 other songs that make it worth the money you did way too many chores to earn. Spoiler alert: They weren't.
As a result, I developed my own personal strategy: listening to the radio and praying to the mysterious gods in charge of curating the music on each installment of the "Now That's What I Call Music!" series in the hopes they'd allow my favorites to grace the back of the jewel case.
Sadly, they rarely complied, and the result was usually three songs I enjoyed and a mixture of random of music I put up with because I paid for it.