While a valid argument could be made that I spend my time actively looking for things to get pissed off about (hey, this blog ain’t gonna write itself), I did stumble upon two articles, recently that particularly got my oft-gotten goat.
This first was this report about a documentary in the works about vinyl-collecting music-heads who are opting to sell their records. Says director Danielle Beverly, “It’s not really about how cool records are or the resurgence of vinyl, it’s really about people who are letting go of the things that once defined them."
Now, personally speaking, while I am intrigued by the concept of the film, I feel like Beverly is making some sweeping generalizations about about record collectors. As far as I’m concerned, while I would concede that I am somewhat “defined” (although I do not like this word) by my devotion to my favorite music and slavishly sentimental about my LPs, compact discs and, yes, even cassettes, I do not feel they are an integral part of my identity. The notion of parting with them makes sense on a purely practical level — given the amount of premium real estate they occupy in my home, space that could be arguably better utilized — but the thought of getting rid of them, to me, seems tantamount to throwing away personal photographs. Practically each one is imbued with some particular association or significance beyond simply being an artifact that delivers specific music.
I guess my grievance with Beverly’s point is that these peoples’ lives aren’t necessarily dominated by their physical collections. It’s not like their love of the music contained therein is going to go away when they part with the LPs. It’s just not that black and white, I don’t think. If I had to dispense of my physical collection of music (a scenario that would probably make my wife very happy), I don’t believe the opinions, likes, dislikes and sensibilities that actually define my identity would change.
Now, again, I haven’t seen the film, so I’m obviously being prejudicial in my assessment. Watch this space.
This other story, however, just completely burnt my toast.
Titled “I use an iPod. Why Should I Be Ashamed?”, this piece — penned by one Robert Shrimsely — recounts the evidently traumatic travails of being “tech-shamed” by colleagues aghast by the author’s insistence on still using an iPod Classic, being that it so brazenly defies the current ubiquity of streaming and suggests some sort of bourgeois adherence to — god forbid — actually owning music, as opposed to merely renting it. To which I say — FUCK YOU!
I still use a goddamn 160 GB iPod Classic, and I have another on standby for when the long-cherished and well-loved one I’m currently enjoying inevitably dies. Do you *honestly* believe I give one single rolling rat fuck about what some dinky millennial or zoomer thinks about my anachronistic tech? Come try to take it from me, and you can expect profanity and pugilism. I'll stream when I'm in the cold, cold fucking ground.
To put it mildly, I vehemently resent the notion that I am to be expected to renounce a life spent lovingly curating my preferred music in long-vanished shrines to less-celebrated aesthetics that, in most instances, endearingly eschewed the tastes and validation of the mainstream (hand me a copy of a Thriller on CD, and you’ve given me a fucking coaster). While my collection does not “define me,” I harbor no regrets about amassing it, let alone supporting the independent shops, artists and record labels that put it out. Oh, it’s unseemly to still own music, is it? Go fuck yourself. As mentioned in my thoughts about the documentary, I can understand the impetus to part with one’s physical collection if it is impeding some other important part of one’s life or if by selling it off, one could facilitate some other necessary activity, but if the reason you choose to ditch or dump or pawn your music is simply to be in step with the times, you are a fucking lemming. “Resistance to new and life-changing devices is the path to atrophy,” Shrimsley asserts towards the end of the piece. Shut up, Robert, and think for yourself.
You want me to abandon my iPod and join a service to re-enjoy some — but not all — of my music and be reliant on WiFi and a monthly charge? Fuck that and yourself, while you’re at it.
To borrow a line from The Wedding Present, if the world doesn’t understand, then the world has GOT TO LEARN.
I realize this is an unpopular and needlessly thorny opinion on the matter. What’s YOUR take? How do you listen to your music, and do you believe it defines you?
Discuss.
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