I Am Not Like I Was Before
This is going to be about geezer stuff that may only be interesting to me (and maybe my geezer friends who don't know about this journal), but nevertheless I feel like writing about it.
In the last ten years or so since I've had an iPod, I don't listen to music the same way I used to. No one does. The way I listen to music now how more in common with how I started listening to it, when I was 11 or 12, than the way I listened to it in high school or my 20s. My iPod plays me the same songs over and over just like Top 40 stations did when I was in 6th grade, although the selection is much larger and of far better quality, of course.
Once I started really caring about music (shortly after I transitioned from Wham! to The Smiths, which should date me pretty clearly), I listened to albums. I loved the way you could get lost in an album and it would tell you a story. I'd put my headphones on in the morning while I walked to school, and although the liquor stores and rundown rowhouses were actually in west Baltimore, if I was listening to The Pogues' "If I Should Fall From Grace With God," I could pretend it was Dublin. Or I could listen to something like John Wesley Harding's "Here Comes the Groom" or Elvis Costello's "King of America" and spend the whole time trying to pick out every clever turn of phrase sung in those deep, compelling voices.
Several albums that I loved back then are still on my personal Top 15, including the aforementioned three albums, Lou Reed's "New York," They Might Be Giants' "Flood," Billy Bragg's "Workers Playtime," and the one I'm currently listening to on Spotify, Sinead O'Connor's "I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got." My main memory of listening to this album was when I would walk from school to my first job, which was about four miles away. I listened to a lot of music on those walks, and since I didn't have much music in those days, I got to know it all intimately. This is the most intimate of albums, and as I'm listening to it now, I'm amazed at how beautifully it holds up. It's a gorgeous album. I hadn't heard it for many years, because I never had the CD - I had it on tape (so I could listen and walk, of course), and by the time I got around to buying only CDs I was in a completely different musical phase and never replaced it.
Some of the songs on here are nice to hear on their own ("Black Boys on Mopeds," "I Am Stretched on Your Grave," "Nothing Compares 2 U"), but they seem much more slight when taken out of the context of the album. Listened to from start to finish, it's an experience.
I could listen to albums on my iPod, I realize this. But I rarely do it. And in fact, when I put music on my iPod, I rarely put whole albums on - I take out the songs I don't particularly like. But really, that's cheating. When I listened to albums on my Walkman, it was a pain in the ass to fast-forward, so I would listen even to the songs that were more challenging or not as pleasant to me, and I often ended up liking those songs. Like "Wild Honey Pie" from the White Album, for instance - it makes sense in the context of the album. But on an iPod, you don't want to get blindsided by that while you're driving, so you leave it off.
If we only listen to what is immediately pleasant to our ears, we will be missing out on so much, and embracing mediocrity, and I feel like we have done that to a large extent. The popular music industry has always aimed at the lowest common denominator, which makes sense for a money-making venture, but it seems increasingly like even talented indie artists are trying to put out loads of singles instead of an album that holds together. Again, this makes sense considering how we listen to music, but I can't imagine it being anything but harmful to the music.
So, there's my crotchety history lesson for the day. Listen to albums. And eat your vegetables. It's good for you.
In the last ten years or so since I've had an iPod, I don't listen to music the same way I used to. No one does. The way I listen to music now how more in common with how I started listening to it, when I was 11 or 12, than the way I listened to it in high school or my 20s. My iPod plays me the same songs over and over just like Top 40 stations did when I was in 6th grade, although the selection is much larger and of far better quality, of course.
Once I started really caring about music (shortly after I transitioned from Wham! to The Smiths, which should date me pretty clearly), I listened to albums. I loved the way you could get lost in an album and it would tell you a story. I'd put my headphones on in the morning while I walked to school, and although the liquor stores and rundown rowhouses were actually in west Baltimore, if I was listening to The Pogues' "If I Should Fall From Grace With God," I could pretend it was Dublin. Or I could listen to something like John Wesley Harding's "Here Comes the Groom" or Elvis Costello's "King of America" and spend the whole time trying to pick out every clever turn of phrase sung in those deep, compelling voices.
Several albums that I loved back then are still on my personal Top 15, including the aforementioned three albums, Lou Reed's "New York," They Might Be Giants' "Flood," Billy Bragg's "Workers Playtime," and the one I'm currently listening to on Spotify, Sinead O'Connor's "I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got." My main memory of listening to this album was when I would walk from school to my first job, which was about four miles away. I listened to a lot of music on those walks, and since I didn't have much music in those days, I got to know it all intimately. This is the most intimate of albums, and as I'm listening to it now, I'm amazed at how beautifully it holds up. It's a gorgeous album. I hadn't heard it for many years, because I never had the CD - I had it on tape (so I could listen and walk, of course), and by the time I got around to buying only CDs I was in a completely different musical phase and never replaced it.
Some of the songs on here are nice to hear on their own ("Black Boys on Mopeds," "I Am Stretched on Your Grave," "Nothing Compares 2 U"), but they seem much more slight when taken out of the context of the album. Listened to from start to finish, it's an experience.
I could listen to albums on my iPod, I realize this. But I rarely do it. And in fact, when I put music on my iPod, I rarely put whole albums on - I take out the songs I don't particularly like. But really, that's cheating. When I listened to albums on my Walkman, it was a pain in the ass to fast-forward, so I would listen even to the songs that were more challenging or not as pleasant to me, and I often ended up liking those songs. Like "Wild Honey Pie" from the White Album, for instance - it makes sense in the context of the album. But on an iPod, you don't want to get blindsided by that while you're driving, so you leave it off.
If we only listen to what is immediately pleasant to our ears, we will be missing out on so much, and embracing mediocrity, and I feel like we have done that to a large extent. The popular music industry has always aimed at the lowest common denominator, which makes sense for a money-making venture, but it seems increasingly like even talented indie artists are trying to put out loads of singles instead of an album that holds together. Again, this makes sense considering how we listen to music, but I can't imagine it being anything but harmful to the music.
So, there's my crotchety history lesson for the day. Listen to albums. And eat your vegetables. It's good for you.