Spotify has teamed up with Liquid Death to create the Eternal Playlist Urn.
Image: YouTube screenshot
In one of the strangest and weirdly hilarious collaborations, Spotify has teamed up with Liquid Death to create the Eternal Playlist Urn, a burial urn with a built-in Bluetooth speaker.
Yes. It’s an urn. That plays music.
At first glance, it looks like a normal, elegant memorial urn.
But hidden inside the lid is a wireless speaker that connects to your phone, allowing your favourite songs to play, well, forever.
The urn has a built-in speaker in the lid.
Image: YouTube screenshot
Whether it’s Beyoncé, a bit of rock, or the sad love songs from your emo phase, your eternal resting place can now have a permanent soundtrack.
Only 150 of these urns exist, making it less of a funeral essential and more of a collector’s item for people with a very specific sense of humour.
Spotify has teamed up with Liquid Death to create the Eternal Playlist Urn.
Image: YouTube screenshot
The promotional video fully leans into the absurdity.
It opens by asking, very seriously, “What’s the worst part about being dead?”
The answer, apparently, is not being able to listen to your favourite jams.
The narrator calmly explains that music could even reduce hauntings, because bored ghosts are clearly a problem nobody has been addressing, until now.
It’s creepy. It’s funny. And it’s exactly the kind of chaos Liquid Death is known for.
If you’re unfamiliar with the brand, Liquid Death isn’t some gothic tech company or the name of a heavy metal band.
It’s actually a water company. They sell mountain and sparkling water in tallboy cans that look more like beer than hydration.
Their slogan, “Murder Your Thirst,” tells you everything you need to know.
The brand built its empire on horror-style marketing, dark humour and making ordinary water feel rebellious.
So creating a music-playing urn isn’t random; it’s perfectly on-brand.
Spotify has also launched an Eternal Playlist Generator, which creates a personalised “forever playlist” based on your listening habits and a few oddly poetic questions about your eternal mood.
It’s equal parts funny and unsettling, forcing you to think about what songs you’d actually want on repeat for eternity.
It’s ridiculous. It’s unnecessary. It’s slightly disturbing.