In an effort to bolster my ability to write album reviews, which I have not done in the year since my fruitful stint at the GW Hatchet ended, I will be -- you guessed it! -- writing album reviews. Initially, my goal was to do this once every week for a new and/or obscure album, and I'd like to stick to this starting today.
Two months ago, Pitchfork Media's notoriously critical reviewers gave the breakdown on Heretic Pride, the latest release from The Mountain Goats. Headed by quirky staccato singer John Darnielle, Goats has a unique sound in an indie market that is oversaturated with acoustic singersongwriter types. What makes the difference, without a doubt, are his completely out-of-left-field vocals and his blunt narratives.
Darnielle babbles completely coherently about so many topics it will make your head spin: war, death, love, spies, religion, pride, redemption, apocalypse, sex, childhood, and even alien invasion...and not once does he lose the attention of the listener. Aside form a few weak spots (namely the 'Puff The Magic Dragon'-esque "Tianchi Lake" and "Swamp Creature"), it was difficult to pick what to focus on since it was all so riveting and beautiful, but here are some highlights:
Sax Rohmer #1 (Track 1): This song is the most explosive that an acoustic rock song can possibly be. The build just blows my mind. Darnielle starts simply enough, with a basic muted strum (more on this later) and light vocals, but by the second half of the first verse you can already feel the tension creeping in. Electric guitar starts to flow all around the chords, drums start to come in from the bottom up, and by the time the first chorus arrives, Darnielle is belting the oddly meaningful "I am coming home to you, with my own blood in my mouth" at the top of his very limited (but not limiting) range. And, given his quirky yet satisfying vocal ability, it hits my heart like a ton of bricks. I still can't figure out why.
San Bernadino (Track 2): "You got in the warm warm water, I pulled the petals from my pocket. I loved you so much just then." The frankness of the lyric is the essence of Darnielle's ability to tell his story quickly and easily, and make you feel how deeply true it is.
So Desperate (Track 6): There is not a solitary defining lyrical or musical moment to this song, but only because it reaches bare-bones perfection. The same few chords are repeated throughout, and the chorus contains only seven words ("I felt so desperate in your arms"), but these act in perfect, uncomplicated unison to signify the love Darnielle eloquently narrates.
In The Craters On The Moon (Track 7): Two old cowboys saunter to the center of town, surrounded by the old saloon and general store, their spurs jangling and boots crunching the dusty rocks. Tumbleweeds scurry across the barren landscape, vultures circle overhead and call out in anticipation of inevitable death, and aside from their cries the town is tensely, silently awaiting the impending duel. From note-one, "Craters" feels musically like the Old West, and lyrically like a war-driven topical powerhouse. Darnielle frantically and frustratedly matches his vocals to the drums, which standout dynamically for one of the only times on the album (in a good way), especially during the timelessly relevant refrain, "In the declining years of the long war," which is delivered much more effectively than it looks on paper (or on screen).
And that's how this album can be defined...with light and sharply delivered vocals that never seem to match Darnielle's incisive and deeply personal (though not autobiographical) lyrics. Of course, I have one overarching complaint that applies to almost every song, and it is the 'basic muted strum' that I referenced earlier. Rhythmically, the album has virtually no variation at all. The accented notes in Darnielle's strumming pattern on 9 of the 13 tracks all fall on the same beats (1 + 2 + 3 + 4 +). This might not make sense if you've never played the drums or taken a music theory class, but essentially this means that most songs after the first are rhythmically identical to the ones before it. If Darnielle did this intentionally, a rhythmic theme is a stroke of genius. If it was an oversight on his part, it was a massive one. Luckily, it hardly takes anything away from the album as a whole. After a dozen listens, each one more pleasant than the last, I can once again say Pitchfork has led me in the right direction.
And so I hope to lead you there, as well. Buy it if you can, steal it if you can't, and enjoy it either way.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Novelty For Novelty's Sake
Once upon a time, say about 45 years ago, society underwent an unprecedented shift in what it found musically acceptable. I refer, of course, to The Beatles and their final act of manifest destiny in moving rock music into the mainstream. Specifically, 1968's The Beatles (A.K.A. - The White Album) moved musical mountains when it was released to the rock-hungry public. Though it was one of their last albums, it is certainly their most diverse (A.K.A. - eclectic) and surprising, given references to Baroque Era classical ('Piggies'), country-western ('Rocky Racoon'), and even ragtime ('Honey Pie'). Its 30 tracks run a staggering 93 minutes long, but somehow it wasn't overdone. It was tasteful and, more importantly, it made use of new musical techniques ('Revolution 9') and singlehandedly birthed a new sub-genre of rock ('Helter Skelter').
Once upon another time, only 5 years ago, Jay-Z released The Black Album to mounds of critical acclaim and hype because it was his "last studio album" (until 2006, when he predictably unretired and released another one). It may not have been as revolutionary as its juxtaposed predecessor, and it may not have even been original since no fewer than six albums were titled The Black Album before 2003, but it was good enough for Danger Mouse to find it worthy of a "mash-up" with said predecessor. And so, in 2004, with licensed a capella tracks from Jay-Z and pirated tracks from The Beatles, The Grey Album was distributed online through various file-sharing services and became an immediate and everlasting sensation (the oh-so-wise Entertainment Weekly even had the cojones to name it the "Best Album of 2004"). There's one problem, though: IT'S NOT GOOD.
Just doing something new for the sake of novelty does not automatically make it worthwhile. There is so much wrong about The Grey Album that I hardly know where to begin. It is terribly mixed, which is understandable since it was never officially released due to lawsuits (which resulted from the pirated Beatles tracks). Still, though, for people to heap so much praise on something as unproduced and rough-draftish as this is very telling as to how little attention is actually paid to quality when an album is revered simply for being "fresh."
What the album lacks in production quality, it does not make up for in substance. I do not consider myself any sort of expert on Jay-Z, but I do consider myself an amateur Beatles historian. I can often be an elitist or purist about things like the greatest band ever, so forgive me if I sound unforgiving, but I simply don't think that the slow, stringy sorrow of "Long, Long, Long" belongs within 100 yards of "Public Service Announcement" (a restraining-order-worthy offense), or that the undeniable classic "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" should even be mentioned in the same sentence as "What More Can I Say" (one of the worst efforts on Grey), let alone combined with it. The mash of "99 Problems" with "Helter Skelter" is the standalone quality track on the album, and only because Danger Mouse decided to use only two measures of "Helter Skelter" (the drum lead-in) to act as the beat behind Jay-Z's hook, "I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one."
In the past I've often lauded artists for combining new and old styles (Feist's Let It Die) or returning to their musical roots (Radiohead's In Rainbows) or even reinventing themselves completely (Bright Eyes' Cassadaga), but the combination of White and Black into Grey is something that attempts to do all three and fails each time.
The purist in me says that The Beatles are at the root of all boundary-breaking pop/rock music that has been made since the mid-to-late 1960s, so Danger Mouse was making a daring attempt to connect one of the newest musical styles with the band that in some ways gave birth to it. By altering the work of either artist, he has rendered his efforts virtually pointless. Because of the distorted, slowed down, and sped up samples that he uses from The Beatles' tracks, he is essentially distorting the purpose of the entire project: an unadulterated combination of new and old, a return to the roots of contemporary music, and a reinvention of both The White Album and The Black Album.
Given these failures, the attempt to combine a timeless musical landmark with a new trend was an exercise in egotism and shock-value by Danger Mouse. He took two artists that are beloved by at least two generations of music lovers and tried to force them together like two random jigsaw pieces based solely on the fact that the latter's title is an allusion to that of the former. And, what's worse, it worked! He duped millions of people into thinking that The Grey Album is a masterwork of technological prowess, when in reality it was novelty for novelty's sake. He is the Howard Stern of mash-ups. It might seem impressive and even important on a superficial level, but if you take the time to listen -- to really listen -- it's impossible to avoid the clear conclusion that the standalone brilliance of each album should have remained just that.
Once upon another time, only 5 years ago, Jay-Z released The Black Album to mounds of critical acclaim and hype because it was his "last studio album" (until 2006, when he predictably unretired and released another one). It may not have been as revolutionary as its juxtaposed predecessor, and it may not have even been original since no fewer than six albums were titled The Black Album before 2003, but it was good enough for Danger Mouse to find it worthy of a "mash-up" with said predecessor. And so, in 2004, with licensed a capella tracks from Jay-Z and pirated tracks from The Beatles, The Grey Album was distributed online through various file-sharing services and became an immediate and everlasting sensation (the oh-so-wise Entertainment Weekly even had the cojones to name it the "Best Album of 2004"). There's one problem, though: IT'S NOT GOOD.
Just doing something new for the sake of novelty does not automatically make it worthwhile. There is so much wrong about The Grey Album that I hardly know where to begin. It is terribly mixed, which is understandable since it was never officially released due to lawsuits (which resulted from the pirated Beatles tracks). Still, though, for people to heap so much praise on something as unproduced and rough-draftish as this is very telling as to how little attention is actually paid to quality when an album is revered simply for being "fresh."
What the album lacks in production quality, it does not make up for in substance. I do not consider myself any sort of expert on Jay-Z, but I do consider myself an amateur Beatles historian. I can often be an elitist or purist about things like the greatest band ever, so forgive me if I sound unforgiving, but I simply don't think that the slow, stringy sorrow of "Long, Long, Long" belongs within 100 yards of "Public Service Announcement" (a restraining-order-worthy offense), or that the undeniable classic "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" should even be mentioned in the same sentence as "What More Can I Say" (one of the worst efforts on Grey), let alone combined with it. The mash of "99 Problems" with "Helter Skelter" is the standalone quality track on the album, and only because Danger Mouse decided to use only two measures of "Helter Skelter" (the drum lead-in) to act as the beat behind Jay-Z's hook, "I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one."
In the past I've often lauded artists for combining new and old styles (Feist's Let It Die) or returning to their musical roots (Radiohead's In Rainbows) or even reinventing themselves completely (Bright Eyes' Cassadaga), but the combination of White and Black into Grey is something that attempts to do all three and fails each time.
The purist in me says that The Beatles are at the root of all boundary-breaking pop/rock music that has been made since the mid-to-late 1960s, so Danger Mouse was making a daring attempt to connect one of the newest musical styles with the band that in some ways gave birth to it. By altering the work of either artist, he has rendered his efforts virtually pointless. Because of the distorted, slowed down, and sped up samples that he uses from The Beatles' tracks, he is essentially distorting the purpose of the entire project: an unadulterated combination of new and old, a return to the roots of contemporary music, and a reinvention of both The White Album and The Black Album.
Given these failures, the attempt to combine a timeless musical landmark with a new trend was an exercise in egotism and shock-value by Danger Mouse. He took two artists that are beloved by at least two generations of music lovers and tried to force them together like two random jigsaw pieces based solely on the fact that the latter's title is an allusion to that of the former. And, what's worse, it worked! He duped millions of people into thinking that The Grey Album is a masterwork of technological prowess, when in reality it was novelty for novelty's sake. He is the Howard Stern of mash-ups. It might seem impressive and even important on a superficial level, but if you take the time to listen -- to really listen -- it's impossible to avoid the clear conclusion that the standalone brilliance of each album should have remained just that.
Friday, March 21, 2008
iTunes Single of the Week: Part II (Good Feist)
On Tuesday April 5, 2005, Leslie Feist began a love affair with Apple that would culminate in the "1 2 3 4" heard 'round the world. On that day, "One Evening" from her second album, 2004's Let It Die (and 'major label' debut with Universal) was featured as the 'iTues Single of the Week.' (You don't have to go back in time to get it, though...just click on the MP3 player on the right side of the blog!)
Though she was already a longtime member/contributor to the Canadian experipop conglomerate Broken Social Scene, her first solo outing in 1999 entitled Monarch (Lay Down Your Jeweled Head) never gained much steam and, according to Wikipedia, remains out of print. I have, however, managed to obtain a VERY LEGAL copy via "The Internets," and it is with much pride and excitement that I would like to announce the beginning of a new column on A Stereo Sun! Every week (I'll try to keep it that frequent), I'll be reviewing albums that I have either a) never heard before b) am sure you all -- my 3 loyal readers -- have never heard before c) absolutely love and want to spread or d) absolutely hate but want to give another chance to. That being said, next week's inaugural review will be Feist's aforementioned inaugural rarity.
Back to April 5, 2005. I listened to the 30-second preview of the old-meets-new/80's-funk 'One Evening' and was more than happy to "purchase" the free single from iTMS (please see Part I for a definition of iTMS). Immediately, I was drawn to her jazzy, as well as the combination of scratchy sound (old) with light, flowy electronics (new). I managed, since these were my days of piracy, to obtain a VERY ILLEGAL copy of Let it Die. The mix of pleasantly obscure covers and fresh originals is surprisingly cohesive, and Feist manages to introduce herself as a musician we hadn't been introduced to often by iTMS: potentially popular, innovative, and...wait for it...wait for it......TALENTED! They didn't just put something on there because it was new, but because it was good and new!
I've seen Feist twice live, and her musical prowess and stage persona far exceed what her albums would deem her capable. Her unique use of self-harmonization (via looping) is something I haven't experienced before or since, and she opened my eyes to the possibility of using electronics during a live performance.
We all know what happens next. In 2007, Feist's third album The Reminder came out to critical and popular acclaim, reaching #4 on the Billboard Top Digital Albums (U.S.) and reaching platinum status (1 million copies sold). In September of that year, Apple again gave Feist a swift and helpful kick up the charts (she reached #8 on the Billboard Top 100) by featuring her video and song for "1 2 3 4" in a third generation iPod Nano commercial, which subsequently aired approximately 7 GAZILLION TIMES every hour on every station.
"1 2 3 4" has helped drive Feist and Apple to new heights, and she should be considered a saving grace of hope and goodness for the iTMS. Sadly, as I made clear in Part I, I haven't had much to celebrate from iTMS very often. "One Evening" is a standout 'Single of the Week,' and I cannot honestly say that I can remember one other that I've downloaded since, though I know I often have (usually ending in disappointment). Still, though, in the words of Leslie Feist herself, "the pleasure was mine."
Though she was already a longtime member/contributor to the Canadian experipop conglomerate Broken Social Scene, her first solo outing in 1999 entitled Monarch (Lay Down Your Jeweled Head) never gained much steam and, according to Wikipedia, remains out of print. I have, however, managed to obtain a VERY LEGAL copy via "The Internets," and it is with much pride and excitement that I would like to announce the beginning of a new column on A Stereo Sun! Every week (I'll try to keep it that frequent), I'll be reviewing albums that I have either a) never heard before b) am sure you all -- my 3 loyal readers -- have never heard before c) absolutely love and want to spread or d) absolutely hate but want to give another chance to. That being said, next week's inaugural review will be Feist's aforementioned inaugural rarity.
Back to April 5, 2005. I listened to the 30-second preview of the old-meets-new/80's-funk 'One Evening' and was more than happy to "purchase" the free single from iTMS (please see Part I for a definition of iTMS). Immediately, I was drawn to her jazzy, as well as the combination of scratchy sound (old) with light, flowy electronics (new). I managed, since these were my days of piracy, to obtain a VERY ILLEGAL copy of Let it Die. The mix of pleasantly obscure covers and fresh originals is surprisingly cohesive, and Feist manages to introduce herself as a musician we hadn't been introduced to often by iTMS: potentially popular, innovative, and...wait for it...wait for it......TALENTED! They didn't just put something on there because it was new, but because it was good and new!
I've seen Feist twice live, and her musical prowess and stage persona far exceed what her albums would deem her capable. Her unique use of self-harmonization (via looping) is something I haven't experienced before or since, and she opened my eyes to the possibility of using electronics during a live performance.
We all know what happens next. In 2007, Feist's third album The Reminder came out to critical and popular acclaim, reaching #4 on the Billboard Top Digital Albums (U.S.) and reaching platinum status (1 million copies sold). In September of that year, Apple again gave Feist a swift and helpful kick up the charts (she reached #8 on the Billboard Top 100) by featuring her video and song for "1 2 3 4" in a third generation iPod Nano commercial, which subsequently aired approximately 7 GAZILLION TIMES every hour on every station.
"1 2 3 4" has helped drive Feist and Apple to new heights, and she should be considered a saving grace of hope and goodness for the iTMS. Sadly, as I made clear in Part I, I haven't had much to celebrate from iTMS very often. "One Evening" is a standout 'Single of the Week,' and I cannot honestly say that I can remember one other that I've downloaded since, though I know I often have (usually ending in disappointment). Still, though, in the words of Leslie Feist herself, "the pleasure was mine."
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
iTunes Single of the Week: Part I (Bad Apple)
There are few ways for new bands to get recognized on a scale as large as having their name and a free track posted on iTunes for a week. Then why would iTunes use this power for bad? In a two-part piece of investigatory blogging, I plan to uncover the reasons behind what makes the "iTunes Single of the Week" such a miserable failure.
Since its rise to the height of the music-player world in the early 2000s, iTunes has transformed from a gawky list of tunes to a sleek, sexy coverflow of our music libraries. iTunes has overcome Windows Media Player, WinAmp (the pre-2002 media choice), and RealPlayer to become king of the mediaplaying world. What was once just a music player can now also allow us to download albums, preview them before we buy them, rent movies, buy movies, watch television, and access an array of free media that we can get nowhere else.
On paper, iTunes is a glorious invention for the age of overaccess (see: iPurgatory). In practice, though, there are two fundamental flaws in the user experience of the iTunes Music Store (iTMS) when attempting to be exposed to new music.
1: The 30-second preview or sample.
When you decide to explore your options before buying an album, the iTMS often allows you to listen to a brief clip of the song(s) that you are about to buy. Unequivocally, these are 30-seconds taken from the middle of the song. I admit, Apple would be hard pressed to provide potential listeners and buyers with the entire track, but it is often unfair to both the listening party and the musicians selling their music to include only 30 seconds of each song. At the same time, allowing listeners unlimited music privileges would ultimately render previews pointless altogether, as no one would bother to buy the music. Perhaps a longer preview of, dare I say, an entire minute would be more appropriate? It is hard to make judgments about songs and albums when you've only heard small out-of-context snippets. The preview already in existence is better than nothing, but doubling it might even educate listeners better before they spend their money (and what major corporation wouldn't want to do that?).
To its credit, iTMS does offer valuable news information, such as the annual 'State of the Union Address,' or Brian William's exclusive NBC Nightly News interview with then-departing Prime Minister Tony Blair, and even Stephen Colbert's revolutionary lampoon of Asshole -- er, um, President -- Bush at the 2006 Correspondents' dinner. Musically though, and music should be a priority for the iTunes Music Store, there is much to be desired. Which leads me to my next point...
2: The iTMS free weekly downloadables; most notably the 'iTunes Single of the Week' (not including the also free 'Latin Single of the Week').
Every Tuesday, iTMS gives users a wide array of free downloadable material that ranges from TV pilot episodes to LOST previews to the only worthwhile freebie, the 'Discovery Download.' The free pilots are usually pretty awful-to-mediocre looking shows (i.e. New Amsterdam, Journeyman...really any quality FOX programming), but the 'Discovery Download' is often a gem. Old school blues, experimental jazz, Brazillian samba-pop...I'll admit that I've gotten some valuable additions to my library from the 'Discovery.' However, iTMS doesn't advertise this free feature at all. It falls into the background, overshadowed by the likes of free TV shows and, especially, the 'Single of the Week.'
The Single started out as a great way for small, independent artists to get some sort of national (even international) recognition. Can you think of a better way to build a fanbase than to have billions of people viewing your iTMS featured song? There is no radio station that reaches as many people as iTunes. I can remember a time, years ago, when I consistently checked my iTunes every Tuesday to give the Single a listen or two. In fact, many may not remember this, but Feist and her song "One Evening" from her debut album Let It Die were featured on the 'Single of the Week' years before the iPod Nano commercial featuring "1 2 3 4" made her a superstar (more on her in Part II). The Single used to be worth the attention it got on the front page of the iTMS. But over the past year-plus, iTunes has severely lowered its 'Single of the Week' standards. The genres are now invariably noisy rap/hip-hop/electronic or popcheeseacoustica, as evidenced by the fact that of the Singles thus far in 2008 and through the entirety of 2007, all but 5 were able to fall under the broad and conveniently all-encompassing labels of Alternative (whatever that means), Pop, Rock (which inexplicably includes Matt Nathanson), Hip-Hop/Rap/R&B/Soul, or Electronic/Dance. Is it possible that no music has been made for 15 months that breaks the boundaries of these genres? If you've ever been to a music festival or a jazz club or a jam session of any sort, you know quite certainly that the answer is absolutely not. There is a plethora of unconventional music being played and recorded and put on stage at clubs around the world, and it is the responsibility of one of the largest remaining music retailers to expose us to it all!
I haven't downloaded a free Single from iTMS in well over a year. If you look at the user reviews, which one would expect to be quite padded by the fact that the general public has Godawful taste in music (see: Nickelback), most of the songs that I've refused to download for free (the fact that they are for free and I refuse to download and keep them should be telling enough) have been given ratings of only 1 or 2 stars out of a possible 5. With the opportunity to expose millions to a musically viable and creative new artist, you'd think that Apple would pull their heads out of their asses and give us something worth listening to.
______________________
Part II is soon to come...
Since its rise to the height of the music-player world in the early 2000s, iTunes has transformed from a gawky list of tunes to a sleek, sexy coverflow of our music libraries. iTunes has overcome Windows Media Player, WinAmp (the pre-2002 media choice), and RealPlayer to become king of the mediaplaying world. What was once just a music player can now also allow us to download albums, preview them before we buy them, rent movies, buy movies, watch television, and access an array of free media that we can get nowhere else.
On paper, iTunes is a glorious invention for the age of overaccess (see: iPurgatory). In practice, though, there are two fundamental flaws in the user experience of the iTunes Music Store (iTMS) when attempting to be exposed to new music.
1: The 30-second preview or sample.
When you decide to explore your options before buying an album, the iTMS often allows you to listen to a brief clip of the song(s) that you are about to buy. Unequivocally, these are 30-seconds taken from the middle of the song. I admit, Apple would be hard pressed to provide potential listeners and buyers with the entire track, but it is often unfair to both the listening party and the musicians selling their music to include only 30 seconds of each song. At the same time, allowing listeners unlimited music privileges would ultimately render previews pointless altogether, as no one would bother to buy the music. Perhaps a longer preview of, dare I say, an entire minute would be more appropriate? It is hard to make judgments about songs and albums when you've only heard small out-of-context snippets. The preview already in existence is better than nothing, but doubling it might even educate listeners better before they spend their money (and what major corporation wouldn't want to do that?).
To its credit, iTMS does offer valuable news information, such as the annual 'State of the Union Address,' or Brian William's exclusive NBC Nightly News interview with then-departing Prime Minister Tony Blair, and even Stephen Colbert's revolutionary lampoon of Asshole -- er, um, President -- Bush at the 2006 Correspondents' dinner. Musically though, and music should be a priority for the iTunes Music Store, there is much to be desired. Which leads me to my next point...
2: The iTMS free weekly downloadables; most notably the 'iTunes Single of the Week' (not including the also free 'Latin Single of the Week').
Every Tuesday, iTMS gives users a wide array of free downloadable material that ranges from TV pilot episodes to LOST previews to the only worthwhile freebie, the 'Discovery Download.' The free pilots are usually pretty awful-to-mediocre looking shows (i.e. New Amsterdam, Journeyman...really any quality FOX programming), but the 'Discovery Download' is often a gem. Old school blues, experimental jazz, Brazillian samba-pop...I'll admit that I've gotten some valuable additions to my library from the 'Discovery.' However, iTMS doesn't advertise this free feature at all. It falls into the background, overshadowed by the likes of free TV shows and, especially, the 'Single of the Week.'
The Single started out as a great way for small, independent artists to get some sort of national (even international) recognition. Can you think of a better way to build a fanbase than to have billions of people viewing your iTMS featured song? There is no radio station that reaches as many people as iTunes. I can remember a time, years ago, when I consistently checked my iTunes every Tuesday to give the Single a listen or two. In fact, many may not remember this, but Feist and her song "One Evening" from her debut album Let It Die were featured on the 'Single of the Week' years before the iPod Nano commercial featuring "1 2 3 4" made her a superstar (more on her in Part II). The Single used to be worth the attention it got on the front page of the iTMS. But over the past year-plus, iTunes has severely lowered its 'Single of the Week' standards. The genres are now invariably noisy rap/hip-hop/electronic or popcheeseacoustica, as evidenced by the fact that of the Singles thus far in 2008 and through the entirety of 2007, all but 5 were able to fall under the broad and conveniently all-encompassing labels of Alternative (whatever that means), Pop, Rock (which inexplicably includes Matt Nathanson), Hip-Hop/Rap/R&B/Soul, or Electronic/Dance. Is it possible that no music has been made for 15 months that breaks the boundaries of these genres? If you've ever been to a music festival or a jazz club or a jam session of any sort, you know quite certainly that the answer is absolutely not. There is a plethora of unconventional music being played and recorded and put on stage at clubs around the world, and it is the responsibility of one of the largest remaining music retailers to expose us to it all!
I haven't downloaded a free Single from iTMS in well over a year. If you look at the user reviews, which one would expect to be quite padded by the fact that the general public has Godawful taste in music (see: Nickelback), most of the songs that I've refused to download for free (the fact that they are for free and I refuse to download and keep them should be telling enough) have been given ratings of only 1 or 2 stars out of a possible 5. With the opportunity to expose millions to a musically viable and creative new artist, you'd think that Apple would pull their heads out of their asses and give us something worth listening to.
______________________
Part II is soon to come...
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Radio from 1995 - Present
When I first started listening to the radio independent of my parents, say around 1995, Mix 105.1 was the way to go. I never really had a concept of what other kids were listening to, other than Alanis Morrisette, which is why I have never owned a Green Day's Dookie. (Note: Once I found out everyone loved Dookie I went down to CD World and gave it a listen. Is it enough to say that I still have (and will) never own a Green Day album?) Every Saturday morning at 10, Casey Kasem would go through the weekly Top 40, in order of course. I relished every poppy sugar-soaked chorus and every melodramatic over-distorted bridge.
As time wore on, my interest in the Top 40 did not diminish. In the car we'd listen to Billy Joel, The Beatles, and James Taylor, and I never resented my parents for exposing me to their music. In fact, I loved it. But every weeknight at 9pm, until I was about 14 (1999) I would head up to bed and put on Z100's "Interactive 9 at 9." People would call in and vote for their favorite song (New York's self-proclaimed #1 Hit Music Station), and I would almost inevitably fall asleep before #1 was announced at about 9:45. It's OK, though, because the next day when I listened to the Z, the same 9 songs were invariably played ad nauseum for 24 hours. I'm not all that convinced that there were more than 9 songs in the station's entire rotation. In fact, my reporter in the field, Mr. Adam Baker, works in an office space in which Z100 is still the standard fare for listeners throughout the day. He says that he has heard approximately four hours of that rubbish each day and of the Top 40, he thinks the station plays about 30 on a continuous random loop. According to his expert calculations, each song gets at least five or six plays per day that he hears. Looks like not much has changed in a decade.
Then, the fateful day arrived on which one Cliff Gerber got his driver's license (more than a year before the rest of us). Way back in 2001, the most alternative station on the radio in central NJ was G106.3. It served primarily the Shore area, but most of the time our reception was OK, and our ride to school was soundtracked by such indie-rock legends as John Mayer (during his 'Room for Squares' phase) and Jimmy Eat World. Actually, there were very few others. Some Foo-Fighters here, some Michelle Branch there, but really all we heard each morning during our 20 minute ride were three things: a long stream of commercials interspersed with 'No Such Thing' and 'The Middle.' Every day. Controlling the radio was new to us as newly licensed passengers, so it seemed excusable.
What is not so easy to overlook is that by the next year (2002 - 2003), when I was a senior, I should have already mastered the radio. Unfortunately, G106.3 was still the predominant alternastaion programmed into my presets. The same general alt-rock, the same entertainment news updates -- it was essentially just MTV on the radio. And the rest of the stations were no better. I simply reprogrammed most of my parents' presets into my first car (Buick Regal, circa 1992) without considering the following facts: one played oldies, one played classic rock (Q104.3 is still a staple of my radio experience), and the rest were either light rock or commercial pop. And, of course, all are owned by ClearChannel.
During my senior year of college, I took a photography course. The dark room TA's gave us a constant flow of NPR, and I'm sorry to say that aside form the occasional Car Talk, I had virtually no NPR experience. After hundreds of hours developing and cropping, dodging and burning, my love for NPR was planted, cultivated, and in full bloom.
It took me almost 22 years to discover the joy of public radio, and I haven't listened to a non-Q104 commercial radio station in over a year. Between 88.7 (jazz out of Newark), 96.3 (classical from ancient to contemporary), and NPR New York affiliate 93.9 WNYC (talk, music...the works) all of my bases are covered. Now the BBC World Broadcast has taken the place of Scott and Todd's asinine morning show, and my commute to work is filled with the joy of Ira Glass's This American Life podcast.
If you have never listened to this, I would say that no art has effected my life more over the past several months than TAL. It's honest and real and one of the most uplifting, heartwrenching, emotionally charged things I've ever heard. Perhaps what makes it so special is the precise and deliberate use of music throughout each presentation, but whatever it is, it is well worth listening to if you never have before (www.thisamericanlife.org).
WNYC gives me Brian Lehrer in the morning, Ira Flato presenting Science Friday for All Things Considered, SoundBites (which exposes me to a wide array of new music), and countless other consumerist-free, commercial-free programs that are entertaining without being gratuitously in-your-face like most sound-effect-ridden morning shows or afternoon shockjockfests. Of course there is something for everyone, but it's even more telling that it can be everything to so many (at least in terms of radio). Even though I sometimes feel like a twenty-two year old with the musical bitterness of a grandparent (not mine exclusively, but mine included -- and I'm not so sure she'd like Nine Inch Nails...or Jose Gonzalez for that matter), I am absolutely happy to admit that commercial Top 40 radio stations are not for me, and I'm a little ashamed that they ever were.
As time wore on, my interest in the Top 40 did not diminish. In the car we'd listen to Billy Joel, The Beatles, and James Taylor, and I never resented my parents for exposing me to their music. In fact, I loved it. But every weeknight at 9pm, until I was about 14 (1999) I would head up to bed and put on Z100's "Interactive 9 at 9." People would call in and vote for their favorite song (New York's self-proclaimed #1 Hit Music Station), and I would almost inevitably fall asleep before #1 was announced at about 9:45. It's OK, though, because the next day when I listened to the Z, the same 9 songs were invariably played ad nauseum for 24 hours. I'm not all that convinced that there were more than 9 songs in the station's entire rotation. In fact, my reporter in the field, Mr. Adam Baker, works in an office space in which Z100 is still the standard fare for listeners throughout the day. He says that he has heard approximately four hours of that rubbish each day and of the Top 40, he thinks the station plays about 30 on a continuous random loop. According to his expert calculations, each song gets at least five or six plays per day that he hears. Looks like not much has changed in a decade.
Then, the fateful day arrived on which one Cliff Gerber got his driver's license (more than a year before the rest of us). Way back in 2001, the most alternative station on the radio in central NJ was G106.3. It served primarily the Shore area, but most of the time our reception was OK, and our ride to school was soundtracked by such indie-rock legends as John Mayer (during his 'Room for Squares' phase) and Jimmy Eat World. Actually, there were very few others. Some Foo-Fighters here, some Michelle Branch there, but really all we heard each morning during our 20 minute ride were three things: a long stream of commercials interspersed with 'No Such Thing' and 'The Middle.' Every day. Controlling the radio was new to us as newly licensed passengers, so it seemed excusable.
What is not so easy to overlook is that by the next year (2002 - 2003), when I was a senior, I should have already mastered the radio. Unfortunately, G106.3 was still the predominant alternastaion programmed into my presets. The same general alt-rock, the same entertainment news updates -- it was essentially just MTV on the radio. And the rest of the stations were no better. I simply reprogrammed most of my parents' presets into my first car (Buick Regal, circa 1992) without considering the following facts: one played oldies, one played classic rock (Q104.3 is still a staple of my radio experience), and the rest were either light rock or commercial pop. And, of course, all are owned by ClearChannel.
During my senior year of college, I took a photography course. The dark room TA's gave us a constant flow of NPR, and I'm sorry to say that aside form the occasional Car Talk, I had virtually no NPR experience. After hundreds of hours developing and cropping, dodging and burning, my love for NPR was planted, cultivated, and in full bloom.
It took me almost 22 years to discover the joy of public radio, and I haven't listened to a non-Q104 commercial radio station in over a year. Between 88.7 (jazz out of Newark), 96.3 (classical from ancient to contemporary), and NPR New York affiliate 93.9 WNYC (talk, music...the works) all of my bases are covered. Now the BBC World Broadcast has taken the place of Scott and Todd's asinine morning show, and my commute to work is filled with the joy of Ira Glass's This American Life podcast.
If you have never listened to this, I would say that no art has effected my life more over the past several months than TAL. It's honest and real and one of the most uplifting, heartwrenching, emotionally charged things I've ever heard. Perhaps what makes it so special is the precise and deliberate use of music throughout each presentation, but whatever it is, it is well worth listening to if you never have before (www.thisamericanlife.org).
WNYC gives me Brian Lehrer in the morning, Ira Flato presenting Science Friday for All Things Considered, SoundBites (which exposes me to a wide array of new music), and countless other consumerist-free, commercial-free programs that are entertaining without being gratuitously in-your-face like most sound-effect-ridden morning shows or afternoon shockjockfests. Of course there is something for everyone, but it's even more telling that it can be everything to so many (at least in terms of radio). Even though I sometimes feel like a twenty-two year old with the musical bitterness of a grandparent (not mine exclusively, but mine included -- and I'm not so sure she'd like Nine Inch Nails...or Jose Gonzalez for that matter), I am absolutely happy to admit that commercial Top 40 radio stations are not for me, and I'm a little ashamed that they ever were.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
I am so Blind (Faith).
After the Clapton/Winwood show at Madison Square Garden last night, my mind was immediately whirring with prose and rants with which to fill my blog. So, I'll write what I had originally planned, and then follow it up with what I've come to learn in the 12 hours since I plotted my initial post.
Oh, and in case you were wondering (because who wouldn't?) here is last night's setlist:
Had To Cry Today / Low Down / Forever Man / Them Changes / Sleeping In The Ground / Presence Of The Lord / Glad>Well Alright / Double Trouble / Pearly Queen / Tell The Truth / No Face / After Midnight / Split Decision / Ramblin On My Mind (Clapton solo acoustic) / Georgia On My Mind (Winwood solo Hammond B3) / Little Wing / Voodoo Chile / Can't Find My Way Home / Cocaine / Encore: Mr. Fantasy
It's hard for me to have seen Eric Clapton at MSG twice now, and not constantly compare the two performances. Yes, it was lovely to see Steve Winwood on stage with him and, yes, Clapton tears up some NASTY guitar solos. And by some, I mean for about ten minutes during each song. And I loved every minute of that. It's true, too, that Winwood hasn't lost a step vocally or keyboardally, and that his rendition of 'Georgia On My Mind' was breathtakingly sincere.
Oh, and yes, it was probably one of the highlights of my life to have seen Clapton play the Derek and the Dominoes cover of Jimi Hendrix's 'Little Wing' (see post from December)...and 'Voodoo Chile' was 15 minutes of pure bliss.
Given all of these positives, you'll be shocked to learn that the post I was planning at 11:00pm last night was one railing Clapton and Winwood for several reasons. They are as follows:
Song Choice - Aside from the obvious standouts (Cocaine, aforementioned Hendrix covers, After Midnight), I was very disappointed with the amount of standard 12-bar blues that was going on. I love to play it, I love to hear it, but in an arena with 20,000 people the energy just wasn't there until Clapton was ripping a solo (frequently). I could've definitely gone for some 'Sunshine Of Your Love' or 'Crossroads' (which he played the night before). Maybe Layla? I know it's selfish and he's probably played those tunes at least sixteen hundred times, but those old rockin' tunes really bring the house down! All I'm saying is, in 2004 when I saw Clapton with Robert Randolph (more on this later) my face was blown off by the entire show. Hard blues, slow blues...all types of blues. But in 2008, we had a bunch of midtempo tunes (including the lackluster encore, 'Mr. Fantasy') that kept the energy at a steady 7+ instead of the 9-10 that is expected of a Clapton show.
Musician Choice - I have been spoiled. I've seen some of the best guitarists play with some of the best drummers in the best venues. Having seen Clapton play with Randolph at MSG four years ago, I can safely say that Clapton is capable of using his smooth and make-it-look-easy hand to keep a capacity crowd up and moving for close to three hours. He is stoic, and his facial contortions don't come close to matching those of some other guitarists. He sways in place, his hand flying up and down the fretboard, his chinless face tilted with eyes closed toward the rafters and banners of the great Knicks and Rangers, and while his guitar wails and wails some of the most impressive notes ever uttered, he seems unphased by it all, as though his status as one of the greatest guitarists ever, and the roar of tens-of-thousands of screaming fans (who range from pimply teens to geriatric Hippies) are left beneath him as he launches himself to heights only known by late-greats like Hendrix, Allman or Vaughn. It's as if, in order to maintain his earth shifting and epic virtuosity, he must appear as nonchalant as possible.
But Winwood and Clapton made for a sleepy pair. Winwood does not have the guitar chops to play next to Clapton, and was simply dwarfed by the prodigious and entertaining solos that he laid down. He does, of course, have the organ/piano/vocal chops to play with him, but during those moments they could have really used another guitarist.
The bassist and keyboardist, Willie Weeks and Chris Stainton, respectively, were outstanding. Stainton was given only one solo during the two-plus hour set, and he used it impressively to bring 'Cocaine' to a climax that only seemed possible if flowing from Clapton's guitar. Weeks spent the majority of the night in the shadow of drummer Ian Thomas (much, much more on him in a minute), but really held the rhythm section together.
My biggest complaint about the musician choice is not so much the fact that Ian Thomas got the call, because he was more than sufficient, but more about the fact that Steve Gadd, Clapton's drummer for more than 30 years, was passed over. For those of you who don't know, which I assume is most of you, Gadd is a legendary contemporary drummer who revolutionized the way rock drummers play. The chance to see him play, which I've had on several previous occasions, is one that I was looking forward to having again last night. I'm sure Gadd wasn't snubbed by Clapton like Johnny Greenwood was by The Academy, but if I'm Eric Clapton planning a three-night MSG stint, I will make sure that Steve Gadd is behind that kit.
This ends the intended post from the hours of 11:00pm 2/26/2008 to 11:00am 2/27/2008.
Thus begins my retraction:
Eric Clapton and Steve Winwood were in a band together in the late 1960s called Blind Faith (with Ginger Baker and Ric Grech). As foolish as this is going to sound, I didn't have sight of this last night. I did no preparation for the show by listening to the one and only Blind Faith album, aptly titled Blind Faith. At one point before the show, my dad even turned to me and said, "You know, I think I still have that Blind Faith album," and I still wasn't able to put it all together and realize that Clapton and Winwood were not just randomly taking the stage together. Instead, they were reuniting after almost 40 years apart.
How could I have been so blind? I'm sure that I knew that Blind Faith existed, but I am ashamed to say that I didn't even consider it last night. This makes completely illegitimate my complaints about both song choice and, at least in part, musician choice. If I had been familiar with my material, I'm sure I would have been positively ecstatic to be party to the four-decades-in-the-making Blind Faith revival.
My problem last night was all about expectations. I expected Gadd, but got Ian Thomas. I was looking for a Robert Randolph, but was dealt a Steve Winwood. I even thought I'd be hearing some Cream and maybe even some Reptile, but I should have been listening for Blind Faith. It's amazing how some background can change your perceptions, and I experienced that twice in the last 12 hours. After learning that Ian Thomas isn't a noname at all, but a very up-and-coming British drummer, and that Winwood and Clapton have almost a half-century of history together, I am much more accepting of those aspects of last night's concert to which I was initially vehemently opposed. Having acquired this new information and gained this new perspective, I am happy to set aside my harsh judgments in favor of appreciation for the fact that last night, I witnessed music history.
Oh, and in case you were wondering (because who wouldn't?) here is last night's setlist:
Had To Cry Today / Low Down / Forever Man / Them Changes / Sleeping In The Ground / Presence Of The Lord / Glad>Well Alright / Double Trouble / Pearly Queen / Tell The Truth / No Face / After Midnight / Split Decision / Ramblin On My Mind (Clapton solo acoustic) / Georgia On My Mind (Winwood solo Hammond B3) / Little Wing / Voodoo Chile / Can't Find My Way Home / Cocaine / Encore: Mr. Fantasy
It's hard for me to have seen Eric Clapton at MSG twice now, and not constantly compare the two performances. Yes, it was lovely to see Steve Winwood on stage with him and, yes, Clapton tears up some NASTY guitar solos. And by some, I mean for about ten minutes during each song. And I loved every minute of that. It's true, too, that Winwood hasn't lost a step vocally or keyboardally, and that his rendition of 'Georgia On My Mind' was breathtakingly sincere.
Oh, and yes, it was probably one of the highlights of my life to have seen Clapton play the Derek and the Dominoes cover of Jimi Hendrix's 'Little Wing' (see post from December)...and 'Voodoo Chile' was 15 minutes of pure bliss.
Given all of these positives, you'll be shocked to learn that the post I was planning at 11:00pm last night was one railing Clapton and Winwood for several reasons. They are as follows:
Song Choice - Aside from the obvious standouts (Cocaine, aforementioned Hendrix covers, After Midnight), I was very disappointed with the amount of standard 12-bar blues that was going on. I love to play it, I love to hear it, but in an arena with 20,000 people the energy just wasn't there until Clapton was ripping a solo (frequently). I could've definitely gone for some 'Sunshine Of Your Love' or 'Crossroads' (which he played the night before). Maybe Layla? I know it's selfish and he's probably played those tunes at least sixteen hundred times, but those old rockin' tunes really bring the house down! All I'm saying is, in 2004 when I saw Clapton with Robert Randolph (more on this later) my face was blown off by the entire show. Hard blues, slow blues...all types of blues. But in 2008, we had a bunch of midtempo tunes (including the lackluster encore, 'Mr. Fantasy') that kept the energy at a steady 7+ instead of the 9-10 that is expected of a Clapton show.
Musician Choice - I have been spoiled. I've seen some of the best guitarists play with some of the best drummers in the best venues. Having seen Clapton play with Randolph at MSG four years ago, I can safely say that Clapton is capable of using his smooth and make-it-look-easy hand to keep a capacity crowd up and moving for close to three hours. He is stoic, and his facial contortions don't come close to matching those of some other guitarists. He sways in place, his hand flying up and down the fretboard, his chinless face tilted with eyes closed toward the rafters and banners of the great Knicks and Rangers, and while his guitar wails and wails some of the most impressive notes ever uttered, he seems unphased by it all, as though his status as one of the greatest guitarists ever, and the roar of tens-of-thousan
But Winwood and Clapton made for a sleepy pair. Winwood does not have the guitar chops to play next to Clapton, and was simply dwarfed by the prodigious and entertaining solos that he laid down. He does, of course, have the organ/piano/vocal chops to play with him, but during those moments they could have really used another guitarist.
The bassist and keyboardist, Willie Weeks and Chris Stainton, respectively, were outstanding. Stainton was given only one solo during the two-plus hour set, and he used it impressively to bring 'Cocaine' to a climax that only seemed possible if flowing from Clapton's guitar. Weeks spent the majority of the night in the shadow of drummer Ian Thomas (much, much more on him in a minute), but really held the rhythm section together.
My biggest complaint about the musician choice is not so much the fact that Ian Thomas got the call, because he was more than sufficient, but more about the fact that Steve Gadd, Clapton's drummer for more than 30 years, was passed over. For those of you who don't know, which I assume is most of you, Gadd is a legendary contemporary drummer who revolutionized the way rock drummers play. The chance to see him play, which I've had on several previous occasions, is one that I was looking forward to having again last night. I'm sure Gadd wasn't snubbed by Clapton like Johnny Greenwood was by The Academy, but if I'm Eric Clapton planning a three-night MSG stint, I will make sure that Steve Gadd is behind that kit.
This ends the intended post from the hours of 11:00pm 2/26/2008 to 11:00am 2/27/2008.
Thus begins my retraction:
Eric Clapton and Steve Winwood were in a band together in the late 1960s called Blind Faith (with Ginger Baker and Ric Grech). As foolish as this is going to sound, I didn't have sight of this last night. I did no preparation for the show by listening to the one and only Blind Faith album, aptly titled Blind Faith. At one point before the show, my dad even turned to me and said, "You know, I think I still have that Blind Faith album," and I still wasn't able to put it all together and realize that Clapton and Winwood were not just randomly taking the stage together. Instead, they were reuniting after almost 40 years apart.
How could I have been so blind? I'm sure that I knew that Blind Faith existed, but I am ashamed to say that I didn't even consider it last night. This makes completely illegitimate my complaints about both song choice and, at least in part, musician choice. If I had been familiar with my material, I'm sure I would have been positively ecstatic to be party to the four-decades-in-the-making Blind Faith revival.
My problem last night was all about expectations. I expected Gadd, but got Ian Thomas. I was looking for a Robert Randolph, but was dealt a Steve Winwood. I even thought I'd be hearing some Cream and maybe even some Reptile, but I should have been listening for Blind Faith. It's amazing how some background can change your perceptions, and I experienced that twice in the last 12 hours. After learning that Ian Thomas isn't a noname at all, but a very up-and-coming British drummer, and that Winwood and Clapton have almost a half-century of history together, I am much more accepting of those aspects of last night's concert to which I was initially vehemently opposed. Having acquired this new information and gained this new perspective, I am happy to set aside my harsh judgments in favor of appreciation for the fact that last night, I witnessed music history.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
iPurgatory
Lately I have been utterly overwhelmed by the vastness that has become my music collection. And, thanks to a certain roommate who has music o' plenty as well, it is ever-growing. To add to that, Pitchfork Media reviews thousands of new albums and I read one every day. When I'm interested, I (illegally) download it and give it a shot. I'd say, on average, I acquire two new albums every week.
This is the biggest problem with our generation and the digital music era for me: over-access (similar to and also resulting in over-excess). We all suffer from this deep-seated boredom that results from overstimulation which has, in turn, resulted from our infinite and immediate access to information and entertainment and virtually (and digitally) anything else we could want to get our hands on. My iTunes has over 16 days of music in it. SIXTEEN DAYS. I could let my music play continuously in my room for 2 weeks and I still wouldn't have gotten through my entire library of music. So, simply from a time perspective, there is no way that I have listened to or will ever listen to all of the music that I own at this point (or next week when I get two more albums).
The task of handling my music becomes even more daunting when one considers that out of approximately 30 gigabytes of music, I can only fit a measly 18+ on my iPod. That means that every time I get one of these new and mysterious Pitchfork-recommended albums, I have to remove one from my iPod in order to give it listening time. And, with my current rate of turnover, I am removing two albums from my iPod every week! How am I supposed to get a solid rotation of music into my life when my library is constantly shifting and my choices are being ceaselessly upended?
The answer is a simple one: Get a smaller iPod. Or...Get a bigger iPod. Or...carry "Compact Discs" around with a "Walkman" in order to limit my listening capacity to one album at a time. But that isn't the point...the point is this:
Like never before, I find myself unable to answer the question "What type of music do you listen to?" At one point I had developed the witty response of, "Anything that I can hear more than once and still feel like I'm listening for the first time." That's a great answer. The problem is, nowadays, with my 4,000 or so songs, oftentimes I am listening to songs for the first time. So now, my answer is something like "Oh, you know...everything." Or, even better, just a simple "Radiohead." Is that what I've become? A one-band man? I mean, we all know I love Radiohead an uncomfortable amount, but I wouldn't dream of saying that it's the only thing I listen to or the way I define my musical tastes. One time, I even had the audacity to say "John Mayer," as if that would either a) make me look cool b) encompass the types of music that I like or c) make me feel good about the fact that I answered "John Mayer" to the question "What type of music do you like?". And I guess that's the problem...I listen to a ton of music -- hours every day -- but I don't listen to a whole lot of anything in particular anymore. What used to make me such an educated listener, namely my eclectic taste and my open mind, are exactly the same aspects of my music-listening-self that have led me to the music purgatory in which I currently reside and suffer.
I used to go through "phases" of listening. You know the type...from sophomore year of high school until sophomore year of college I had my Dave Matthew Band phase. From the earliest age possible until now I have been in both my Billy Joel and Beatles phases. When I first started downloading music and expanding my ever-eclectic collection, phases were still an option. Bright Eyes was one of the first and last phases to start in the digital age (for me, at least), and it's one that I'm not entirely out of yet. But I haven't had a new phase since Bright Eyes, and that was just after the DMB phase ended three years ago.
Over the past few days I've resolved to at least stop shuffling the 3,500 songs that can fit onto my iPod. After all, we know how unreliable the "shuffle" feature can actually be. I only have 10 Madonna songs out of over THREE THOUSAND and somehow, miraculously by chance, the iPod manages to play three in a row on shuffle?! Yeah, that's fair. Now, you might ask, "Why keep Madonna on your iPod or even in your iTunes if you have such disdain for her existence?" And to that I have no good answer, but one that perfectly explains why I got into this predicament in the first place. It is simply a compulsion of mine to collect music and not get rid of it under most conceivable circumstances given the fact that I have over 120 Gigs of available space on my computer.
So, in an effort to rectify my iPod's secret agenda to play only the songs that it somehow knows I am not willing to listen to that I keep on my iPod for no reason anyway, I have ceased shuffling and taken up the task of choosing my own music. I am only on Day 2 of this experiment, but so far I seem to be doing well(ish). Yesterday on the way to work I tried (upon a Pitchfork recommendation) "Heretic Pride" by The Mountain Goats (2008). I enjoyed every song, though it was boring at times. After work I went with the lighthearted 2004 album "Twentysomething" by Jamie Cullum, and today I tried a new one (from Pitchfork, of course): "Boxer" by The National. So far so good.
It's still a struggle, though, every time I go to that vast and intimidating "Artists" list and scroll through the masses. And each trip through Artistsland means a subsequent trip through Albumsland, and inevitably leaves me trapped in the musical wasteland that is my own, personal, iPurgatory.
This is the biggest problem with our generation and the digital music era for me: over-access (similar to and also resulting in over-excess). We all suffer from this deep-seated boredom that results from overstimulation which has, in turn, resulted from our infinite and immediate access to information and entertainment and virtually (and digitally) anything else we could want to get our hands on. My iTunes has over 16 days of music in it. SIXTEEN DAYS. I could let my music play continuously in my room for 2 weeks and I still wouldn't have gotten through my entire library of music. So, simply from a time perspective, there is no way that I have listened to or will ever listen to all of the music that I own at this point (or next week when I get two more albums).
The task of handling my music becomes even more daunting when one considers that out of approximately 30 gigabytes of music, I can only fit a measly 18+ on my iPod. That means that every time I get one of these new and mysterious Pitchfork-recommended albums, I have to remove one from my iPod in order to give it listening time. And, with my current rate of turnover, I am removing two albums from my iPod every week! How am I supposed to get a solid rotation of music into my life when my library is constantly shifting and my choices are being ceaselessly upended?
The answer is a simple one: Get a smaller iPod. Or...Get a bigger iPod. Or...carry "Compact Discs" around with a "Walkman" in order to limit my listening capacity to one album at a time. But that isn't the point...the point is this:
Like never before, I find myself unable to answer the question "What type of music do you listen to?" At one point I had developed the witty response of, "Anything that I can hear more than once and still feel like I'm listening for the first time." That's a great answer. The problem is, nowadays, with my 4,000 or so songs, oftentimes I am listening to songs for the first time. So now, my answer is something like "Oh, you know...everything." Or, even better, just a simple "Radiohead." Is that what I've become? A one-band man? I mean, we all know I love Radiohead an uncomfortable amount, but I wouldn't dream of saying that it's the only thing I listen to or the way I define my musical tastes. One time, I even had the audacity to say "John Mayer," as if that would either a) make me look cool b) encompass the types of music that I like or c) make me feel good about the fact that I answered "John Mayer" to the question "What type of music do you like?". And I guess that's the problem...I listen to a ton of music -- hours every day -- but I don't listen to a whole lot of anything in particular anymore. What used to make me such an educated listener, namely my eclectic taste and my open mind, are exactly the same aspects of my music-listening-self that have led me to the music purgatory in which I currently reside and suffer.
I used to go through "phases" of listening. You know the type...from sophomore year of high school until sophomore year of college I had my Dave Matthew Band phase. From the earliest age possible until now I have been in both my Billy Joel and Beatles phases. When I first started downloading music and expanding my ever-eclectic collection, phases were still an option. Bright Eyes was one of the first and last phases to start in the digital age (for me, at least), and it's one that I'm not entirely out of yet. But I haven't had a new phase since Bright Eyes, and that was just after the DMB phase ended three years ago.
Over the past few days I've resolved to at least stop shuffling the 3,500 songs that can fit onto my iPod. After all, we know how unreliable the "shuffle" feature can actually be. I only have 10 Madonna songs out of over THREE THOUSAND and somehow, miraculously by chance, the iPod manages to play three in a row on shuffle?! Yeah, that's fair. Now, you might ask, "Why keep Madonna on your iPod or even in your iTunes if you have such disdain for her existence?" And to that I have no good answer, but one that perfectly explains why I got into this predicament in the first place. It is simply a compulsion of mine to collect music and not get rid of it under most conceivable circumstances given the fact that I have over 120 Gigs of available space on my computer.
So, in an effort to rectify my iPod's secret agenda to play only the songs that it somehow knows I am not willing to listen to that I keep on my iPod for no reason anyway, I have ceased shuffling and taken up the task of choosing my own music. I am only on Day 2 of this experiment, but so far I seem to be doing well(ish). Yesterday on the way to work I tried (upon a Pitchfork recommendation) "Heretic Pride" by The Mountain Goats (2008). I enjoyed every song, though it was boring at times. After work I went with the lighthearted 2004 album "Twentysomething" by Jamie Cullum, and today I tried a new one (from Pitchfork, of course): "Boxer" by The National. So far so good.
It's still a struggle, though, every time I go to that vast and intimidating "Artists" list and scroll through the masses. And each trip through Artistsland means a subsequent trip through Albumsland, and inevitably leaves me trapped in the musical wasteland that is my own, personal, iPurgatory.
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