The most underrated thing about the click wheel: you could use it without looking. Modern music apps are full of soft buttons that demand a glance. Glance, tap, glance, swipe. When your thumb knows where it is, the screen becomes optional. We lost that. Trying to put a little back.

Music players forgot about the tactile part. Spotify is a list. Apple Music is a list. Spindeck has a wheel — a real one, with momentum and haptics, that you push with your thumb. Hard to explain why it matters until you feel it.

Spindeck is $1.99, paid once, forever. No subscription. Music players turning into recurring revenue feels obscene to me. It's a player. You buy a player, you keep a player. → spindeck.app

SpinDeck — Spin. Tap. Listen.

A vinyl-feel music player for iOS. Subsonic-compatible. No tracking. $1.99 one-time.

spindeck.app

Streaming services are very good at suggesting things. They're terrible at remembering you already love something. SpinDeck has no "for you," no daily mix, no recap card in December. It opens to the album you closed it on. Some weeks that's exactly what you want.

SpinDeck talks to Apple Music, Subsonic, Navidrome, and local files. No major streaming APIs. Why: a self-hosted server is the closest thing left to owning your library. Files on a NAS in your living room, served to your pocket, no contracts. The future of personal music looks a lot like 2008.

Question: what's the album you've played 1,000 times? Mine — Slayer, Season in the Abyys. No algorithm needed to remind me. The whole point of SpinDeck is that this album lives in your library, not someone else's recommendation engine. Curious what's in yours. spindeck.app

SpinDeck — Spin. Tap. Listen.

A vinyl-feel music player for iOS. Subsonic-compatible. No tracking. $1.99 one-time.

spindeck.app