I have 40.5 days, 95.22 gigabytes, of music in my iTunes library—and that’s only what iTunes has accounted for.
There are many directories and digital graveyards of loose files on my hard drive that I have yet to liberate and organize properly. I have albums upon albums of material to spin, and I love it all. I love the feeling of archival, the modernized-though-not-as-fun-or-nostalgic format of cratedigging, the ability to access a library of emotions and expression at any given moment. This is perfect for everything from the impromptu DJ set to the study playlist of death.
Cue the elitist syndrome, no?
Let the record show that I hate streaming radio. I hate the shuffle on my iPod. I feel controlled once the randomness dictates me via an imaginary feed that determines what I should like, with virtually no extra interaction but a name to base it from and a skip button. And even the skip button is limited. As far as the iPod, even though that’s full of compositions I enjoy, I cannot stay on shuffle. I am programmed to have an intense love of albums: how they’re structured sonically and lyrically, how everything flows, what narrative is being told. Everything makes sense and there is a distinct pleasure in discovering how and why it does. I can’t say everyone appreciates albums this way.
We as listeners are succumbing to being force fed one tool at a time. The laissez-faire is getting us nowhere.
Music culture has always been dominated by the concept of the single, and how one can captivate a nation; this will never change. The hooks you sing back off-key, the guest spots you cherish, and the horrible fashion of the era in the video are all vital to the culture. There is also a love for the archetype of a “classic” album across genres that aim to promote the creation of a captivating body of music that is representative of whatever concepts you want to communicate.
With the popularity of sites such as Pandora and the championing of iTunes singles, I am fearful that the album is being targeted in the wake of this continuum of force feeding music in a fragmented and randomized state of mind that promotes convenience over cohesion and the fast-food high over the balanced diet. The desire for music in our everyday lives is not at stake; it is the way in which we choose to forge relationships with these pieces that currently has a shifting climate.
I am perfectly aware that the majority of consumers are not seemingly elitist, musician/connoisseur, archival people like me… but there are gaps being created that everyone is ignoring and there is so much fun to be had that goes unrecognized.
Here is an example: Once the Kendrick Lamar single “Backseat Freestyle” leaked on the Internet before his last album release, critics and listeners alike were concerned about his uncharacteristically braggadocio nature on the song that seemed to conform to mainstream standards for attention. If a person who merely heard that song via some method of shuffle or stream wrote Kendrick off as a mainstream carbon copy, can one really blame that person? The skip button may be in sight if this person’s palette is not aligned.
However, in context with the album good kid, m.A.A.d city, the song makes perfect sense in the story arc of Kendrick in his teenage years in Compton where he encounters the horrors and temptations of the world throughout a night. Kendrick is in his mid-20s; the persona in this song is himself in this young mind state with a reckless energy spewing forth traditional brag rap fare with the thought of being impressive.
On a more general level, I have encountered musical discussions with many-a-peer over certain artists that were breaking into their respective scenes. When I meet a peer with the question of “Have you heard *insert*’s album? It’s ridiculously good,” a perfectly normal response would be “Nah, I’ve only heard the single,” or “Nah, but the video was hilarious.” Upon comparing my massive library with others, all I see are covers upon covers of albums with merely three or four songs left in the library. I know plenty of people who merely delete songs from albums that they dislike… essentially removing chapters from stories that were created with certain intentions and motivations at hand.
We are in a state of listening that leaves us lost in translation.
Every human being processes music in a unique way, this much is for certain. But if one becomes dependent on any source that finds ways to assert itself upon your tastes, where is the fruit of the labor for those creating these set pieces? Is a world with only $0.99 singles imminent? Will the album die as more and more people merely compile and reshuffle and stream to their heart’s content without taking the next step? Are our shortened attention spans dictating a reality that focuses on being updated no matter how small the dosage may be?
I think our eardrums deserve a fuller picture of what is out there for us. At this moment, we are complacent with incompletion. For now, my files do me poetic justice enough.
Want to debate the pleasures of cratedigging with Michael? Email him at mdpenn@wisc.edu.
