I was tempted to start this by saying that 2009 was the year I stopped buying CDs, but of course it’s not as simple as that. Labels will continue making packages that are only available in that format, smaller bands appreciate the relative cost of manufacturing CDs (as compared to vinyl [if they offer a physical product at all]), etc.
More thorny, though, are those bands caught “in between” my preferred formats as they’ve switched. For example, I really liked Camera Obscura’s Let’s Get Out of This Country from two or three years ago. And, it being two or three years ago, what I picked up was a CD copy. But this year, they released a follow-up, and I’m not sure whether to commit to a vinyl copy…or go the more cautious route of getting it on eMusic. But CD? That middle thing? In 2009, in so many instances, this has felt silly to me in a way it never used to.
(Camera Obscura’s a recent, one-album, case. For bands I’ve known and felt deeply through several compact disc releases, it gets a bit weirder. These have been “CD bands” to me, and perverse as it sounds, I’d like to keep it that way. I mean, I don’t want to switch format horses at what might be the midpoint of the Decemberists’ library. Ditto for Ted Leo, double for my Johnny Cash — the closest thing to a “collection” of any single artist I have. This is a weird tick that I hope will work itself out…but we’ll see.)
As for MP3s, well. Last night I was looking over The Onion’s year-end top 25 list, and I found myself gazing at the cover of The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, sort of basking in the recognition of that icon, letting it trigger memories of the songs therein… And this will sound like the smallest, dumbest thing, but I experienced warm and fuzzy feelings without any follow-up anxiety over the fact that I “only” have that album in MP3 format.
I think the anxiety’s gone and I feel relaxed about it because there are quite a few new albums I’ve experienced this year after obtaining them online. But the important thing is that, once obtained, I still experienced them fully as albums. I think there’s always been a part of me that’s felt paranoid about MP3s, that these shards of song will somehow, by their very fragmentary nature, break my albums apart. But it turns out that this ALBUM part of me is impossible to shatter. Feeling that, I can relax, and turn on to some amazing stuff in the process. Just like in the old days. I guess. This stuff is so obvious to many of you fine people, but what the heck…
[End of rant proper, but...]
A postscript about what I mean when I say “obtained online.” I don’t mean filesharing, because 1) I’m not poor any more, 2) I’m not in a race to hear things before they’re “officially” released, and 3) filesharing software seems clunky, and there’s no guarantee that what you get won’t sound like total shit and/or will have the right credits and/or artwork, etc. In other words, even at “free,” the cost/benefit analysis just doesn’t work out for me.
I also don’t mean iTunes, because while I’ve admitted here to being cool with the format, $.99 per MP3 (or even $9.99 per MP3 album) still seems like a high price-point for a non-physical thing that doesn’t even create spreadsheets. Right? It just seems nuts that something we can all SEE doesn’t need to be warehoused on a shelf…and doesn’t need to be shipped to my door…should cost anywhere near something that DOES. I am merely saying this.
Lastly, I don’t mean Rhapsody. Because while many of my friends, erm, rhapsodize about the service, the idea of relying on an internet connection to listen to music strikes me as a headache waiting to happen.
But eMusic. Oh, eMusic. I pay something like $17 a month to download four or five albums. This is an agreeable price-point, and I really look forward to that day each month when my credits are replenished and I can “pick up” whatever albums I’ve read about and bookmarked. It’s really eMusic’s album-centric site and service that’s eased me into the world of purely digital music. They integrate with Allmusic, they offer plentiful editorial content (“guides” to west coast hip-hop and whatnot), and their selection is crazy huge.
So thanks to them, and thanks to you, and stay tuned for a possible top 10 or two.
I’ve been using eMusic–a download subscription service–for over a year now. Each month, I’m allotted 30 downloads for $12. That’s a quarter a song, which is pretty much what I think MP3s are worth, so I’m happy with the arrangement. I’ve re-constructed the otherwise out-of-print and/or expensively imported Slowdive EP-collection-thing Blue Day, and I’ve collected some of the work of my favorite comedians. But mainly what I use eMusic for is to check out new music. At that price, it doesn’t hurt too much to discover that, for example, I’m just not a Jay Reatard person. Delete and roll on.
But… And this question will only be relatable to music nerds of a certain age, but: What about the ones I like? What about the ones I fall madly in love with? Any sane, modern American would say, “Umm, listen to it a lot?” But for someone who’s been conditioned to bond with albums via some physical form, it’s unsatisfying on some ghostly level to have these songs “just” in my iTunes library, “just” in MP3 format.
So, I’ve taken to burning CD-R’s of whatever I don’t dislike, so there’s some physical copy around. Why? In case I want to throw it into the kitchen CD player, or take it with me in the car. But lately I’ve been realizing how silly that is, since both of these players have iPod jacks. Indeed, the only stereo in my house that can’t handle an iPod is the big one in my office–and that can be remedied with a $15 iPod dock.
Not to mention the storage problem. Even in slimline cases, burning a CD or two a month above my regular, non-experimental purchases (like the Thermals’ latest) starts to expand rather robustly. I look at my shelves and think of what Amy’s done, what a lot of my friends have done–put their boxless discs in zippered binders, just in case, leaving the digital copy as the main library. Shelf space liberated.
I have no conclusion today. But I will say that those of us raised on CDs–we got the worst of both worlds. As a tactile experience, they pale in comparison to vinyl, hanging on a hinge and a flimsy booklet. But then from the perspective of convenience, the things aren’t small ENOUGH by today’s standards, having the gall to take up more than hard drive space. They might as well not exist, and every day that becomes more and more likely.
Meanwhile, I love the new Metric album so much that I want to have a “proper” copy of it. I could just burn it ($0.30), but the CD is also available for cheap on Amazon ($7.99), and I think I’ve seen it on vinyl at Reckless ($10 – $15). So how much do I love it? And is spending extra money for it a fulfillment of that love, or merely an expression of it? Is either possibility sad and/or unhealthy? At least economically? Is this a rich man’s dilemma or what?
Whether records or furniture or puppets, treasuring things is a joy, and one I’ll probably indulge for the rest of my life. But when I lean on that pleasure too much, when I fool myself into thinking it contains nutrients it simply doesn’t, that’s where the problems start.
p.s.
For further reading, Chris Day has an excellent blog about the collection-compulsion from a comic-book perspective. Also, as an introduction to his 2008 top tens, glenn mcdonald explores the CD format and how it relates to music vs. the music business, etc.
While visiting my folks this past weekend, I snagged the 20″ iMac that my step-dad had, to his dismay, found no use for after buying it sometime in 2007. I got it for a beyond-fair price, and the Megabus, despite other shortcomings I won’t get into here, did allow me to load the big white box with the plastic gray handle as a technically-extra checked bag.
The thing looks absurd on my desk, but maybe that’s because it’s got my 2004 iBook flanked to the left, while I try to keep track of what needs moving over, and figure out how. Many questions remain, but what I’m sure of is what I’m most psyched about: that everything on it, including my iTunes library, Garageband files, and AIF’s for burning Zapruder Point CDs, will fit EASILY, and it will ALL back up onto a single external drive.
Even before I got the iBook, I knew I’d have to play storage games, knowing my music would never fit on the 40 (really 30) GBs. Lately it was getting even more headachey (!!!), with me offloading some musical stuff onto thumb drives, etc. What a relief to say goodbye to all of that, even if my dreams of wireless keyboards and mice are deferred. (Hey: If “settling” for a slightly less shiny-and-new computer is how the economic crisis trickles down to me…then I have a lot to be thankful for.)
In other news, while I was driving around Cleveland, I borrowed a more-80’s-than-70’s John Denver mix I’d made for Mom about a year ago. I was floored not just by how many words I still remembered, but by how perfectly within my range all the vocal lines fit. Singing “Some Days are Diamonds” at the top of my lungs while cruising 480 was a blast.
Now that I write that, it occurs to me that whenever I put on John Denver at home, I can’t resist singing either. Makes sense, even if it’s not the coolest thing to admit to. I was raised on this stuff. Aww yeah:
