most hated questions revisited: desert island discs
As the kids download, make playlists and hit shuffle, as the music industry changes from being less about the entire album and more about the songs, there's one good thing that comes from all this: the death of the desert island disc question. You know the one: "If you were stranded on a desert island, what five records would you want with you?" Ask a kid that today, and you'll get a blank stare. After all, when you have tens of gigs of storage space, who needs to pick just five? And with the amount of music people consume today, who could even pick a mere five?
I always had trouble with the question myself. The first two or three records were always easy to pick--and they've pretty much remained unchanged over the past decade. But then, with only a few slots left, what would I choose? I had an ever-evolving shortlist of records that I could see in the last two slots, but did I really want to commit to any of them as one of the only five choices I had for music on this island? And was this like the Columbia House Music Club, where a double album would count as two selections? If so, that changed everything.
Then, I always thought about the hypothetical island. What part of the world was it located in? When people think of a desert island, they think of the cartoon image with the sand and the palm tree. But I always thought of "desert island" in the sense that there was nobody else around. For all I knew, this island could be in the Arctic Ocean, all cold and dark. What kind of vegetation would be on this island? Was I allowed to bring anything else? The way I saw it, the answers to these questions were important, if only because a little knowledge would make the decision making process easier.
I know that this question is just an exercise in getting to know someone, a way to sneak a peek at their record collection without being over at their house or the awkwardness that happens when you get caught studying what's on someone's shelves, but surely there are better ways to do this. Pay enough attention to somebody, and you'll find out plenty without having to resort to conversation starter questions and top five lists.
I always had trouble with the question myself. The first two or three records were always easy to pick--and they've pretty much remained unchanged over the past decade. But then, with only a few slots left, what would I choose? I had an ever-evolving shortlist of records that I could see in the last two slots, but did I really want to commit to any of them as one of the only five choices I had for music on this island? And was this like the Columbia House Music Club, where a double album would count as two selections? If so, that changed everything.
Then, I always thought about the hypothetical island. What part of the world was it located in? When people think of a desert island, they think of the cartoon image with the sand and the palm tree. But I always thought of "desert island" in the sense that there was nobody else around. For all I knew, this island could be in the Arctic Ocean, all cold and dark. What kind of vegetation would be on this island? Was I allowed to bring anything else? The way I saw it, the answers to these questions were important, if only because a little knowledge would make the decision making process easier.
I know that this question is just an exercise in getting to know someone, a way to sneak a peek at their record collection without being over at their house or the awkwardness that happens when you get caught studying what's on someone's shelves, but surely there are better ways to do this. Pay enough attention to somebody, and you'll find out plenty without having to resort to conversation starter questions and top five lists.