I used to be incredibly proficient with band and musician info (members, albums, record labels, etc), and that was mostly because I directly interacted with the work. Whether it was a vinyl record, CD, or tape, it came with a lot of information and artwork.
Then I started downloading music1.
What used to be interfacing with the work became straight consumption — the intimacy of holding a piece of art was replaced with a collection of files2.
I thrived as a pirate though.
I downloaded music, movies, and TV shows, just to have them. Much like my reading list, the albums and movies I wanted to listen to and watch continued to outgrow my ability to consume them. And I was an amateur compared to some of my friends3.
Though I couldn’t keep up with my growing list of To-listen-to’s, my exposure to music that was typically out of reach began to grow. I started diving into ambient noise, experimental jazz, and worldly musics that weren’t about to chart or hit the local college radio stations. But I still lacked the information retention that came with my old ways of CD booklets and record sleeves.
So, I started building my own vinyl record collection.
I acquired records in multitudinous ways4 and my collection became a beautiful library of knowledge. Downloading was always an option, and the downloaded albums that spoke to me most would enter my physical collection so as to further develop my relationship with that particular piece of art.
But records take up a lot of space and I started to feel an itch to see more of the world. Most importantly, moving records sucks. I wasn’t about to do that. So I sold a large portion of my beloved collection5, paid off part of a school loan, and flew overseas to see some shit6.
Then all these dumbass streaming services came out. I refuse to support these terrible-to-the-artist-but-we-don’t-care kinds of companies, but I’m blessed with extremely giving friends who happily put me on their family plans7.
When I started using streaming platforms I made playlists of albums and songs I’d enjoyed. I made countless playlists and then one day they were all gone. I can’t explain it. I have no idea why, but they were gone8.
Infuriating.
To remedy this situation I began cataloguing all the music I listen to, regardless of format. I rarely purchase music9 but when I do it usually makes the list. Every album I listen to makes it on the list.
In 2023 I listened to 427 albums.
My goal is to listen to 1 new album each day10.
As I’m cataloguing I put an asterisk (*) next to any album I’d like to add to my pay attention to this collection and a double-asterisk (**) next to albums that make me feel kinda funny11.
This is not only my way of keeping track of all the music I experience, it is also a way of sharing recommendations and sparking curiosity in others. I’m hopeful that this may lead to more musical exchanges that will expose me to artists I may not have otherwise ever found.
Here’s to my 2023 in music.
This was the Napster days so probably around 1999 (what a year). Downloading music was a mind-blowing experience for 14-year-old me because I could explore genres and outliers much more quickly than by listening to the radio or flipping through the CD’s filling listening stations at Blockbuster music. It also changed how my friends and I shared music — share a massive drop of albums and pick your favorites.
This was also the beginning of not paying attention to all the people involved in the creation of the work, where and when the work was recorded, and the record company willing to release the music.
But as with everything, an exchange happened: for the knowledge and experience that comes with a physical copy of art, I now had the ability to explore the endless catalog of artistic creators. This, as well as the musical diversity my parents offered me growing up, has led to my appreciation of diverse musics.
So, to the artists that suffered financial losses as a result of my downloading their works (namely Metallica — not even a joke, I was addicted to everything Metallica touched at the age of 14), sleep easy at night because I discovered MANY artists whom I would then go see perform live and support directly by buying their merchandise.
All of this to say — fuck (large, corporate) record companies.
And, more relevant to the current times, fuck streaming services.
Go see musicians and artists in the flesh and support them when you can, it means a great deal.
Usually on the computer and eventually on an mp3 player. I had one by Creative and was ecstatic to be rid of the CD player with anti-skip-but-it’s-gonna-skip-anyway technology. God damn that was infuriating. Take a step, skip. Hit a pothole, skip. Look at the CD player, skip.
I once compared my collection of 1TB (terabyte) of music (fuck yeah that’s a lot of music) to a friend’s collection, only to be humbled. He had somewhere between 7-10TB. That’s a fuck-load of music. 1TB is about 250,000 songs. That’s 20,833 albums! Many many many many many hours of music. This dude had somewhere around 200,000 albums, and a porn collection to match.
My favorite was to ride my bicycle to a bunch of garage sales and see who might be selling vinyl records. I grew up in a Chicago suburb that had lots of families and many more older, possibly retired, couples. Retired couples are great because when a young man approaches and asks if they’re selling any Dave Brubeck or Stan Getz records they react with a sort of joy to be sharing this experience with you. I had a mean jazz collection that I can’t say costed very much (except time). I got into countless discussions with folks who used to be DJ’s or venue owners or dealers, and some of them even had stories of interactions with legends.
Sometimes the joke was on me because records are a certain size, and a backpack can only fit so much, so I’d buy a small collection and then disperse records on all sides of my body (using a variety of bags) in order to ride back home safely.
Always keep those sentimentally special things until you can’t anymore — unless you’re a hoarder, if that’s the case, most of what you’re keeping isn’t actually special and you might wanna LET IT GO!
Letting go of a collection is difficult because of the many hours it takes to curate and assemble it. My reason for having a collection in the first place was to interact with the work and get back the information that comes with albums. I got what I wanted and had a great time during the process, so why drag that collection around? If any part of you is ready to let it go, then let it go — freedom from will always surpass but I could still...
I guess I’m a terrible-to-the-company-but-I-don’t-care kinda guy.
Suck on that Spotify and Apple Music.
My theory is that streaming services, much like the NSA, are able to listen to your conversations and heard all my fuck them talk, targeted me, and erased my beautiful collection of music. So fuck them.
The last record I bought was Olga Jancevecka, a Russian gypsy singer, and it’s fabulous. I grew up listening to lots of European and Persian folk because my father was a dancer in Poland (Słowianki), and Olga performs as if she were meant to have eyes watching her.
That way I don’t have to learn something new everyday because I’m busy doing something else.
In the Wayne’s World kinda way.