A Playlist for Walking: What to Play in Different Cities So the Road Feels Like a Film

Walk down a street in silence and it is a street. Put the right song on and you are in the opening scene of a film in which, for once, you are the person who knows where they are going.

I started doing this on a grey week in Lisbon, mostly to stop myself hearing my own footsteps. These days I build a short playlist before any city trip, and it has become as routine as packing socks. Here is what I would play in six of them, and where I would be standing when I pressed the button.

The same street sounds like a different city once you change the song.

Lisbon, Tokyo and London: the big soundtracks

Lisbon: fado on the climb

Fado belongs to the old quarters of Alfama and Mouraria, so save it for the steep part. Amália Rodrigues's Estranha Forma de Vida does the job at dusk, followed by Mariza's Ó Gente da Minha Terra. For the ten-minute ferry from Cais do Sodré to Cacilhas, try Madredeus and O Pastor, then turn round and look at the city from the water. You can plan the days around it with our week in Portugal without a car. If you pass a fado house with its door open, take the headphones off. You have just been upgraded.

Tokyo: city pop after dark

Mariya Takeuchi's Plastic Love and Tatsuro Yamashita's Ride on Time date from the early 1980s, when Tokyo was rich and pleased with itself, and they still suit the neon of Shibuya and Shinjuku. Yellow Magic Orchestra's Rydeen is built for a big crossing. In the morning, in the quiet lanes of Yanaka, switch to Ryuichi Sakamoto's Merry Christmas, Mr Lawrence and try not to look too moved in front of the cats.

London: something rainy

The Kinks' Waterloo Sunset is compulsory, on Waterloo Bridge, at the hour in question. Start at the north end, because the bridge takes a little longer to cross than the song takes to finish. When it rains, which it will, Burial's Archangel makes a wet bus stop in south London feel like the most significant place on earth. Pet Shop Boys' West End Girls is for Soho after nine. Gerry Rafferty's Baker Street is too obvious, and you will do it anyway.

Istanbul, Reykjavik and Tbilisi: further east and further north

Istanbul: Anatolian rock on the water

Take the ferry from Karaköy to Kadıköy, about twenty minutes and very cheap, with Barış Manço's Dağlar Dağlar. Erkin Koray's Cemalim suits the hill up to Galata, and Selda Bağcan's İnce İnce the old streets of Balat. For more on where to walk, see our guide to Istanbul through a local's eyes. You are allowed exactly one play of The Four Lads' Istanbul (Not Constantinople). And when the evening call to prayer starts rolling across the Golden Horn, stop the music. Nothing on your phone is going to compete.

Reykjavik: slow and cold

The sea path along Sæbraut to the Sun Voyager sculpture was made for Sigur Rós, and Hoppípolla in particular. Björk's Jóga is for when the weather turns dramatic, which takes about twenty minutes. On a flat grey morning, Ólafur Arnalds's Near Light feels exactly right. A practical bonus: over-ear headphones double as earmuffs.

Tbilisi: voices and balconies

Start with Chakrulo, a Georgian polyphonic song so highly regarded that a recording went into space on the Voyager Golden Record. Any good choir recording will do, and it is excellent on the climb to Narikala Fortress. For the crumbling balconies of Sololaki in the late sun, play Vakhtang Kikabidze's Chito Gvrito from the 1977 film Mimino, then Nino Katamadze's Olei as it gets dark. Finish with Tbiliso, Revaz Lagidze's song to the city, if you are feeling sentimental. By that point you will be.

How to build your own

• Plan for the walk, not the trip. Eight to ten songs lasts about forty minutes, or around two miles at a stroll. Any longer and you stop listening.
• Choose music from the place, then add one outsider. One song you already love stops the whole thing feeling like homework.
• Mind the pace. Something too fast and you arrive out of breath; too slow and you start to feel sorry for yourself on a perfectly nice street.
• Save the best song for the view. Know where you will end up and time it, roughly. This is the one bit of planning I allow myself.
• Download before you leave. Do it on home Wi-Fi: most streaming services let you save music offline, and roaming charges have no place in a film.

If you would like somewhere to start, our walking playlist page is a good place to sketch one out. And if a real band turns up mid-walk, as they sometimes do, turn yours off.