Making mix tapes is something I used to do with alarming frequency. I say alarming, because presumably I had better things to do in college than stay up all night arranging my CDs and tapes, finding the songs I wanted and recording them. I had some foolish notion in my head that I could figure out how to make the perfect mix — a collection of songs I would never grow tired of listening to.

I did come close a few times, but of course I never succeeded. Making a perfect mix tape is impossible — there’s always going to be a song that you love at the moment, but eventually outgrow, or a song that seems endlessly catchy but wears out its welcome after the 500th listen.

In my life, I’ve managed to make some really good mixes. Unfortunately, I threw them away about six years ago. I’m not sure why I did this — in retrospect, it seems uncharacteristically rash — but I’m sure there was a reason. Maybe I thought I was done with mixed tapes, that I would never listen to them again, or maybe I was trying to reduce some of the clutter in my apartment. After all, many of my tapes have been replaced by CDs; I don’t even own a tape player. Or maybe I believed I had outgrown making and listening to mixes, that as a grown-up I had better things to do.

So for a few years, I went on a mix-making hiatus. But now I have a friend who seldom buys music, and so I’ve started making her mix CDs for her birthday. This has been a surprisingly fun project, and has reminded me of why I enjoyed making mixes in the first place. For one thing, when someone has the same taste in music as you, as this particular friend does, the usual challenge of making a mix for another person — trying to imagine what he or she would want to listen to — is eliminated. But the other challenge — taking seemingly disparate songs and creating a coherent whole — remains, and this challenge is what makes making mixes fun. For instance, one of my mixes featured pianist George Winston, Cat Stevens, Radiohead and the punk band Face to Face, all in a row. Which is totally crazy. I mean, what kind of maniac would think to put those artists together? But I loved it.

A couple of weeks ago I settled down with my laptop and put together a birthday mix for my friend. I reminded myself of the rules for a good mix tape. A good mix tape should encompass a range of emotions. It should be unique. And it should have momentum. In other words, it shouldn’t contain any momentum killers — songs that take you out of your groove, that aren’t nearly as good as the ones that came before. And, as my friend pointed out, a good mix reminds the recipient of the person who made it — it expresses that person’s personality through music, and thus functions as a particularly personal and moving gift.

I tried to follow the mix-making rules, but the mix I made didn’t seem quite right, and since one of the things I pride myself on is making good mixes, I was irritated. I gave it to my friend, and offered to re-do it if she didn’t like it. “Some of the songs are too long,” I said. “The pacing is weird.” But the next day, my friend assured me that the mix I’d made her was, in fact, rather awesome. And when I listened to it again, I had to agree. It’s not quite perfect, but it comes about as close to perfection as a mix can. There’s joy in it, and sorrow, and every song makes you feel like singing along. There is one momentum killer — Suzanne Vega’s “As Girls Go” — which is a good song, slippery and sly, but not quite good enough. Oh well — if a mix contains only one momentum killer, you’re doing pretty well.

In any case, I don’t know why I thought I had to give up making mixes. I miss the days when a mix tape was a common present. I remember sending my college roommate a mix when she was in England for the semester, filled with songs I knew she really liked, but didn’t possess, such as “Sugar on My Tongue” by the Talking Heads. And it was a delight to find the mix tape my friend Susanna gave me for Christmas in 1998, which is filled with songs that make me think of Susanna, such as “Untouchable Face” by Ani DiFranco or “Touch Your Woman” by Dolly Parton. Anyway, it’s a lost art, making mixes. But maybe I’ll start doing it more often. You never know — I might one day hit upon that perfect combination of songs.

If you’re interested, my last mix contained the following songs: “Son of a Gun” by The Vaselines, “Temptation” by New Order, “Toxic Toast” by The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, “Here Comes a Regular” by The Replacements, “I am Trying to Break Your Heart,” by Wilco, “Eye Know,” by De La Soul, “Cantaloop (Flip Fantasia) by Us3, “Borneo” by Firewater, “Rent,” by The Pet Shop Boys, “As Girls Go,” by Suzanne Vega, “Faded” by The Afghan Whigs, “Idioteque” by Radiohead, “Against the 70s,” by Mike Watt with Eddie Vedder, “Cold Beverage” by G. Love and Special Sauce, “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam” by The Vaselines and “Jeff Penalty” by Franz Nicolay.

And speaking of The Vaselines, I think it’s time for another Vaselines revival. This Scottish band was Kurt Cobain’s favorite band; his daughter, Frances Bean, was named for Vaselines singer/songwriter Frances McKee. I got into The Vaselines in the mid-1990s, when Nirvana was at the height of its popularity, and I highly recommend the compilation “The Way of the Vaselines: A Complete History,” a rollicking collection of peppy tunes that are loaded with goofy double-entendres. The liner notes are hilarious, too. (The band claims that the song “Rory Rides Me Raw” is about a bicycle.) Anyway, there’s a new greatest hits album out, “Enter the Vaselines,” which my friend Eric wrote about in his blog, Ray Bradbury’s Love-Camel. (You can find the post here.)

Got a comment? A favorite combination of songs? Add your thoughts below or e-mail me at sfoss@dailygazette.net.