which kind of fits with McLuhan's tetrad concept of retrieval...where a previously obsolesced medium is brought back in a new way...
And whilst it's not a pure retrieval sense, because there's not a new medium that is retrieving the vinyl, perhaps it is a growing awareness in some of the ways the rapidly shifting media ecology is having unwanted impacts on our relationship with music.
I've been asked more than once by friends over the last twenty years what it is that draws me to buy music in a form that has essentially been obsolete during that period. And even though a large part of me wants to boast of an audio prowess that can distinguish a warmth of tone from the interaction of frequencies that just get compressed away in our digital copies. The quality of my stereo quickly puts to bed that myth.
But there are a few things that have, and continue, to draw me to buy my music on vinyl records when I can.
Vinyl records make listening a demanding experience. In a world where we can have free access to an endless library of music for the cost of tolerating some advertising, it's so easy for music to lose it's value. We can start music playing and come back days, weeks, months, or even years later and it could still be playing. It's easy to set and forget. This kind of availability did creep in with tape decks that allowed you to auto play the cassette tape. And grew with the repeat function of CD players. And then these same functions were introduced into our digital music players. With vinyl, some of the albums I have are on two records. So every few songs, the music says if you want to listen, then you need to commit. Sure it's still easy to get distracted. But I do find I'm far more mindful that there is music on when it is, and off when it's gone.
Vinyl records remind me of the fragility of life. One of the clear benefits of digital music is that you just can't scratch it. Sure, you can still get corrupted files every now and again. But normally once you've got the music, you've got the music. There's no need to take care of it. Not even really with our playback devices, because we know every year or two we'll update them. And if they do get broken, lost or stolen, all our music is looked after in some sort of magical cloud somewhere. Vinyl says "treat me poorly at your peril". It says "music is fragile". It needs to be treasured and cared for. Otherwise there is high risk that your favourite track may just be lost to you.
Vinyl records remind me the importance of rhythm of life. One thing that I've noticed over the years is that there seems to be far less attention paid to the over ebb and flow of an album. Of course this is totally subjective. But my theory is, now that music is such a pick and choose affair with never ending shuffle, build your own playlists, and download single track options, it's far less important to put together a good album. A good collection of songs will do instead. And there is a difference. But when you knew that the songs would play from the outside to the inside. And then one side and then the next, it was important to consider the overall musical journey for the listener. In many ways, it was the artist who had the most control over that. They knew it was unlikely every song was going to be a hit song. They needed to consider how they were going to balance the listening experience. If you put all the songs that cracked and popped first up, you may have people wondering why you even bothered sticking music on the other side.
So with the resurgence of vinyl, I wonder if we beginning to realise the cost to our relationship of music when convenience of accessibility are our key drivers. When our music isn't demanding, fragile, and full of movement and colour perhaps it's becoming less of the experience it was in the past. Or maybe vinyl just goes better with a hipster beard and a barbershop haircut?
No comments:
Post a Comment