Log Cabin Manifestos
I'm sitting here downloading "Matty Groves" by Fairport Convention off of iTunes, and just thinking to myself what my life would have been like if the internet had existed back when I was in college. Would there have been my usual, almost daily dorm crawl literally banging on people's doors to be let in so I could look at their music collection? Would I have overdrawn my bank account countless times driving the 35 miles into the nearest city every weekend to prowl the Record Exchange (R.I.P.) for whatever album had the coolest cover? Would I have even met Joe if I wasn't sitting on his roommate's floor plowing through his cassette collection when he walked in the door?
It was pretty much inevitable that this technology would come about when it did. CD prices were already astronomical long before the internet download. From 1989 to 1991 I worked at The Music Man, David Campbell's indie store in a shopping mall who fought a one-man battle against rocketing CD prices by pricing every single CD in his store at $13.99. Eventually the loss we took prevented us from keeping up with that expensive overhead, and we left the mall for a shopping center, which then promptly closed several months later. Now my store is selling Musicpass cards for $12.99 each, which is about the same price (and in some cases maybe a little higher) than most albums you can already download off of iTunes. Places like Best Buy have now built customer loyalty with their CDs prices similarly, even though they take a bit of a loss selling them at that level. Of course, that customer loyalty brings them back to the store for the big-ticket items like TVs and stereos and computers, which is where they make their money back from the CDs. At my store, our CDs are our big-ticket items.
The history of recorded music is still only about a hundred years old, and has been officially a lucrative enterprise virtually ever since Caruso sold those first million copies in 1907. We've come from the wax cylinder to this in such an amazingly short amount of time that it still astounds me to think about it. Sure, it's putting me out of business. But cell phones buried my aunt's pager company. And I'm certain something will come along to kill that industry off as well. Maybe something like what Andrea Martin had implanted in her tooth in Hedwig And The Angry Inch. Maybe carrier pigeons will make a fashionable comeback. Carrier pigeons with pagers. I'm all for the tin-can-on-a-string resurgence myself. I'm sure I'd still get better reception than I did on my Verizon cellular.
I mourn for the olden days, sure. Although it's more nostalgia than modern practicality. A young lady told me the other day that she would never have been able to do that album cover quiz I posted last week because she didn't grow up with album cover art. Granted, most of the albums on that quiz were a smidge antiquated, especially for today's youth. Would a young modern-day diehard audiophile still know the answers? Probably not. Heck, even I didn't. But in this post-industrial revolution future of massive leisure time and ridiculous amounts of attention lavished on entertainment, there is far too much of it out there to know everything about. People can cherry-pick their favorite music without ever having known a single other band that came before it, or even another modern contemporary. Kids into punk these days have never heard the Dead Kennedys, let alone the Sex Pistols. And they don't need to. There's just too much out there. And the internet is a constant open artery from where it all flows.
But there used to be such a... I don't know... a social activity to searching for music that I would have missed out on, if I had the internet back in college, or even high school. Joe and I would drive into the city and run our fingers over cassettes and LPs, hardly knowing the names -- albums from bands we would have never had even heard of unless we hadn't have bought the album based entirely on the album cover art, like this one, this one, and this one. And then we'd go have a cheap meal at Long John Silvers and sit and go over all the liner notes and inner sleeve work. And we'd go to Joe's mother's house up in the mountains and use her record player and sit out there in the eerie quiet of the wilderness and play these albums, listening together, experiencing those first revelations face-to-face. There's just no replacing the memories of those tremendous interactive musical experiences.
Do people still experience that tactile human socialization when it comes to downloading off the internet? Sure, I hang out at music message boards, and they were a Godsend to me during those times when we were all discovering and mailing trades back and forth to one another. I would have never had even heard of Les Rallizes Denudes, or seen Jandek live, or even sought out The Monks CD for that matter. I suppose music exploration can still be a social activity in a sense. A virtual sense, perhaps. But still... would I have ever met my dear Lloyd in England or trade old blues tunes with Heinz in Germany if it wasn't for the internet? Both of whom I met through music? Would we have all met as early as my college era if the internet had been invented as far back as then?
ITunes isn't the answer to everything. Right now I'm cursing that I can't find a single Klaus Nomi track, or anything from the Jimmy Castor Bunch that isn't a sodding greatest hits package. But hey, the technology is still young. As long as we don't lose our ability to connect with one another. As long as the internet doesn't mold us to the rude, anti-social, instant gratification demanding, er... uh... oh, nevermind.
It was pretty much inevitable that this technology would come about when it did. CD prices were already astronomical long before the internet download. From 1989 to 1991 I worked at The Music Man, David Campbell's indie store in a shopping mall who fought a one-man battle against rocketing CD prices by pricing every single CD in his store at $13.99. Eventually the loss we took prevented us from keeping up with that expensive overhead, and we left the mall for a shopping center, which then promptly closed several months later. Now my store is selling Musicpass cards for $12.99 each, which is about the same price (and in some cases maybe a little higher) than most albums you can already download off of iTunes. Places like Best Buy have now built customer loyalty with their CDs prices similarly, even though they take a bit of a loss selling them at that level. Of course, that customer loyalty brings them back to the store for the big-ticket items like TVs and stereos and computers, which is where they make their money back from the CDs. At my store, our CDs are our big-ticket items.
The history of recorded music is still only about a hundred years old, and has been officially a lucrative enterprise virtually ever since Caruso sold those first million copies in 1907. We've come from the wax cylinder to this in such an amazingly short amount of time that it still astounds me to think about it. Sure, it's putting me out of business. But cell phones buried my aunt's pager company. And I'm certain something will come along to kill that industry off as well. Maybe something like what Andrea Martin had implanted in her tooth in Hedwig And The Angry Inch. Maybe carrier pigeons will make a fashionable comeback. Carrier pigeons with pagers. I'm all for the tin-can-on-a-string resurgence myself. I'm sure I'd still get better reception than I did on my Verizon cellular.
I mourn for the olden days, sure. Although it's more nostalgia than modern practicality. A young lady told me the other day that she would never have been able to do that album cover quiz I posted last week because she didn't grow up with album cover art. Granted, most of the albums on that quiz were a smidge antiquated, especially for today's youth. Would a young modern-day diehard audiophile still know the answers? Probably not. Heck, even I didn't. But in this post-industrial revolution future of massive leisure time and ridiculous amounts of attention lavished on entertainment, there is far too much of it out there to know everything about. People can cherry-pick their favorite music without ever having known a single other band that came before it, or even another modern contemporary. Kids into punk these days have never heard the Dead Kennedys, let alone the Sex Pistols. And they don't need to. There's just too much out there. And the internet is a constant open artery from where it all flows.
But there used to be such a... I don't know... a social activity to searching for music that I would have missed out on, if I had the internet back in college, or even high school. Joe and I would drive into the city and run our fingers over cassettes and LPs, hardly knowing the names -- albums from bands we would have never had even heard of unless we hadn't have bought the album based entirely on the album cover art, like this one, this one, and this one. And then we'd go have a cheap meal at Long John Silvers and sit and go over all the liner notes and inner sleeve work. And we'd go to Joe's mother's house up in the mountains and use her record player and sit out there in the eerie quiet of the wilderness and play these albums, listening together, experiencing those first revelations face-to-face. There's just no replacing the memories of those tremendous interactive musical experiences.
Do people still experience that tactile human socialization when it comes to downloading off the internet? Sure, I hang out at music message boards, and they were a Godsend to me during those times when we were all discovering and mailing trades back and forth to one another. I would have never had even heard of Les Rallizes Denudes, or seen Jandek live, or even sought out The Monks CD for that matter. I suppose music exploration can still be a social activity in a sense. A virtual sense, perhaps. But still... would I have ever met my dear Lloyd in England or trade old blues tunes with Heinz in Germany if it wasn't for the internet? Both of whom I met through music? Would we have all met as early as my college era if the internet had been invented as far back as then?
ITunes isn't the answer to everything. Right now I'm cursing that I can't find a single Klaus Nomi track, or anything from the Jimmy Castor Bunch that isn't a sodding greatest hits package. But hey, the technology is still young. As long as we don't lose our ability to connect with one another. As long as the internet doesn't mold us to the rude, anti-social, instant gratification demanding, er... uh... oh, nevermind.
posted by Melissa at 9:27 AM
1 Comments:
If the internet in it's current form existed when you were back in college, it would not have changed any of the social aspects you described because you don't just enjoy music, you have an obvious passion for it and people with a passion for music will always gravitate towards others that feel the same way. The internet just gives you easy access to an expanded universe of friends to share your passion with when online, but in physical world you still enjoy those atmospheres (record stores, favorite clubs or for me certain bars with great juke boxes) where your passion is accepted and applauded.
I think it's such an exciting time for the music lover. Eventually EVERY recorded song will be online and it will be affordable to access it all. For example Napster and some other services already do a thing where you pay 10 or 15 bucks a month and you have full access to their catalogs of millions of songs. Image the day when those services have EVERY song, you'll be able to check out any music for next to nothing within seconds of thinking you want to hear it. I think this will be amazing and I don't think you have to worry about the kids. Those kids who today listen to punk and haven't heard the sex pistols or dead kennedys, most of them will be fine with that, just like most of my friends who maybe like "Walk on the Wild Side" have absolutely no interest in listening to The Velvet Underground (other than "Sweet Jane" or maybe "Rock n Roll"). They are content. Then there's that small percentage who become passionate music lovers. They'll read the histories and wonder about these bands that are cited as influences or favorites of their favorites. They'll do it just like we all did except it will be cheaper and easier for them to get this music. Those lucky bastards! All we can do then is hold over their heads how we actually got to see the bands live and they can sit back and listen in awe as we describe seeing Nirvana, The Replacements or dare I say The Buzzcocks (although they'll probably still be touring and releasing great albums), just like I do when I meet someone who saw Jimi Hendrix or the Clash.
We'll always remember those magical moments of discovering the greats and I think in this case, the technology is only going to help others in their discoveries.
Enjoy.
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