Jan 07 2009
2500 Meaningful Memories
I have a pretty big CD collection. Not big compared to some other music obsessed friends, because I keep it pared down pretty tight, but bigger than a lot of people’s at somewhere around 2500 CDs. Physical CDs.
My CD shelves are split in two sections – most in the living room and then some more down at the end of the hall. Last night I went through the living room section trying to find CDs to demote to the hallway. Needed to make room for the stack on the floor that I’ve acquired lately and that need to find their way into the prime shelving.
You know the drill. It’s one of those things you do at the beginning of a year, or when the stack is so big you have no choice. I’m squarely in the middle of those scenarios.
My music taste isn’t for everybody. It’s certainly not for the general public. But, a reasonably large and musically experienced set of people would agree it’s mighty comprehensive and shows a solid understanding of the past 5 decades of music. I deeply get a specific subset of genres, mostly in the connected corridors of punk, post-punk, hardcore, metal, hard rock, and goth. And I also have amassed what most would agree are the essentials any learned music fan should have and appreciate.
My collection travels seamlessly from Dr Dre’s “The Chronic” to “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash” and from Miles Davis’ “Kind of Blue” to MC5′s “Kick Out The Jams.” Deicide is only a few slots from Neil Diamond; the Swans’ “Cop” is only a shelf away from “Ice Cream Castles” by the Time. Big Black lives near Black Tape For A Blue Girl, and Pavement lives squarely between Parliament Funkadelic and Quicksilver Messenger Service. You get the point.
I often tell people my music selection runs from Neil Diamond to King Diamond. That pretty much sums it up.
And poring over all this really made me think. That people who do not own physical product – at least a good chunk – are missing out on a level of engagement that I have never felt with digital files. I feel this with my massive vinyl collection, all those cassettes in storage, and with every piece of merch I’ve picked up along the way.
As I go over each CD to evaluate it, a rush of memories floods my head. It’s amazing how much life is encapsulated in each jewel case. I could probably also write separate, similar blog entries for LPs, cassettes, fliers, T-shirts, and fan club correspondence.
The first album I bought in CD format was “Master of Puppets” by Metallica. I was 13, my grandmother had just bought me a CD player, and I had to fill it fast. Picking up that CD now takes me back to a youthful summer in Daytona Beach, with my grandmother, in a great record store I would visit many more times. I remember exactly how the store was laid out, what the guy behind the counter looked like, and that they had a Danzig bootleg CD I wanted but couldn’t afford. I can even almost smell it – that smell of old records mixed with some rock ‘n’ roll. I definitely remember the feeling – it is very tranquil to think of the way the sunlight was coming in to the store and the glow it created.
The second CD I ever bought was “Walk Among Us” by the Misfits; I can remember where I bought it (the Underground in Las Vegas), the conversation I had with the guy behind the counter, and my disappointment it didn’t have the lyrics (this was pre-Internet, I didn’t have the vinyl yet, and Misfits lyrics aren’t the easiest to decipher). I can remember sitting in my bedroom listening to it, all the hours my friends and I tried to figure out the words, and the fun and frustration of trying to expand our knowledge of them and all the related bands (again, this was pre-Internet; thankfully I had a copy of the Trouser Press Record Guide which schooled me well on many bands).
And those are just some of the memories from two CDs of 2500.
I am a completist with my music. My Henry Rollins music and spoken word CD collection is about 50 strong. My Christian Death collection is about the same. I have every Black Flag CD, EP, single, as well as many bootlegs. Over 30 CDs each from the Cult, Fields of the Nephilim, and Sisters of Mercy. I have the entire Iron Maiden catalog where the CD spines form the picture of Eddie, an impressively difficult set of Chameleons UK releases, more Dwarves than should be legally allowed, and many other complete collections. I’m talking promotional CDs, identical versions except for country of manufacture, special editions, and everything in between.
This level of completion is an art in itself. It has gotten easier with ebay, but in the days before that I remember how much effort it took to get certain pieces. And how much more fun it was. I have a Fields of the Nephilim import that a girlfriend had to hunt for during her trip to Europe; she found it in Bulgaria. I also had her hunt down a Christian Death rarity; she snagged it during a side trip to Hungary. I can think of so many cases where I was missing one lone CD, I’d get it, and then shortly thereafter learn about a title I didn’t know about. The hunt would be back on. It’s a game you never want to finish.
But it’s certainly not always about quantity or rarity; there are some artists where I only needed a handful of records to get the full effect. You’ll get shot if you try to take my Ice-T “O.G. Original Gangster” CD. Originally I had a cassette of it that was a gift from a very strange girl; it instantly became the cruising soundtrack to much of high school. Shortly thereafter I upgraded to the CD. I bet I have 2500 memories associated to just this one title.
Holding my well-worn copy of “Plastic Surgery Disasters” by Dead Kennedys takes me back to a time when the music universe was exploding. I was having my mind blown on a daily basis, finding so many bands that would forever become a part of who I am. Fear, The Exploited, Subhumans, Descendents, Suicidal Tendencies, The Circle Jerks, Bauhaus, Joy Division, Gang of Four, Mercyful Fate, Minor Threat, Television, White Zombie, The Ramones, The Meatmen, Dead Milkmen… Each CD I scan reminds me of who I was for a specific moment in time. The goth years, the punk years, the metal years, and everything in between.
Speaking of that grandmother and the Dead Kennedys, one of the memories that came up from “Give Me Convenience or Give Me Death” is a classic. I was 14, in Daytona for the summer, and asked my grandmother to pick up the CD on the way home from work. The phone rings, and it’s her, at the record store. Evidently the clerk didn’t think she was buying it for herself and asked who it was for, and when my grandmother said it was for her 14 year old grandson, the clerk insisted that she call and make sure I knew that “there were bad words on it” and that maybe it wasn’t appropriate. I don’t know what about the song “Too Drunk To Fuck” is inappropriate for a 14 year old, I guess people in Florida are just uptight.
Come to think of it, the same thing happened a few weeks later when I special ordered Gwar “Live From Antarctica” VHS and the store made her come in to see it before they’d sell it to me. After watching it, I suppose I saw why, ha. What can I say, I’ve always enjoyed things that challenge any sense of normalcy.
Certain CDs remind me of friends I am no longer in touch with. Some remind me of people that are dead. Others remind me of a specific feeling. There’s a specific Jello Biafra spoken word CD that reminds me of sitting in the back of the car during a road trip to Vegas; a different one reminds me of a mall in Utah and being worried about the Mormons closing in (my Samhain shirt probably didn’t help).
I could go on forever talking about bands that mean something to me or memories that live forever attached to little pieces of plastic and paper. But I think the point is that physical music product is so much more than just a delivery method for what is now essentially a free digital commodity. I spend most of my time at work finding ways to market music digitally. That may be why I am so attached to physical product. I see the genius and unfolding universe that is the digital music space; as someone who deeply understands it, I can also see what is missing from it.
I’ve been heavily involved with and supportive of the MP3 scene since its inception, but have always been distinctly congizant of the disconnect, which you have so accurately described. I’m one of the many who have completely digitized their music collection and actually got rid of the physical CDs themselves, but have often regretting doing so.
Music in the iPod generation has definitely on some level become this invisible, free, and sometimes less meaningful thing that I don’t think is cherished as much. Even I am sometimes guilty of not giving an album a real and thorough listen, because whether or not I paid for it, it lives in a tiny invisible corner of my hard-drive, lost among nearly a terabyte of other music. As a young adult, saving up and spending money on a much sough-after CD was a decadent experience second only to unwrapping it and listening to it over and over through headphones. But now, the ritual of reading the liner notes, staring at the artwork, and reading the lyrics are all pieces that seem to be lost – and really don’t compare when they take place on a screen.
Of course, I say all of this with an almost nostalgia, for I too have become assimilated into the bits and bytes of music’s uncertain future. However, I still have high hopes and desires for where it will go next, and hope that gap can be bridged.
Wow! Amazing post Jason! Very well written. I, too, agree with what the both of you have said entirely and I think I can nail down the reasons. With the physical object you get a package of senses; not only the songs, but a physical format, pictures, and sometimes lyrics if you’re lucky. Jason, you mentioned the smell of a record, and I’m sure you remember and know as well as I do the smell of tape, and CD’s as well. With digital music it usually comes to you from a friend, a myspace page, an ad somewhere, etc. and there is no package. The smell is your car, or your computer, or your ipod. The images are almost never as plentiful, if there are any at all. Worst yet, there’s nothing to touch or hold.
With the musical experience lacking all these sensory experiences, it is so much easier to forget about a song, album, or artist. There are a hundred times less things to see/hear/feel/smell that will remind you of the songs. I have noticed a pattern within myself at least that very clearly shows that it is harder for me to remember band names, artist’s faces, albums, or any information relating to these experiences with bands that I have been introduced to in this way. Example, I can hardly remember the four simple letters MGMT when talking with friends about what I’m listening to now because I was exposed on a mix tape, and iTunesed the rest. I also have recently stumbled on a band that my wife played a show with…I saw a concert, met them, and proceeded to buy one of everything they had to sell me (it was that good), and after shuffling through it all and spending the time to get to know them, the songs, the pictures, the tastes, and the smells of it all, I will never forget them. I can spell their name in english even though it’s Japanese, because I’ve seen it, thought it, and associated it a million times. I have probably listened to both bands equally, but the one was a much more sensory rich experience.
So what does that mean and where does it go? I don’t think that belittles the digital music market in any way, I just think it will adapt in other ways. I don’t believe the physical format should or will ever die for many reasons: nostalgia, collectibility, not to mention the freedom of being able to easily publish in the digital format via USB (or whatever) using almost any sized/shaped packaging, and the final most heavily weighted reason is that the market demands it (we want something to hold & look at, stash away and find years later. I believe that the better bands and creative forces will shine through based on roughly 4 simple abilities:
1) Overall creativity quality of the artist
2) Creative output quantity of the artist
3) Ability to adapt (open minds do this well already)
4) Business sense
Imagine getting a package delivered and it’s the new release from one of your favorite bands. You have no idea what it will look like, feel like, smell like. You don’t know what the artist will make you look at, what they will make you feel, what they will make you hold. I find the idea very exciting and we have been basing our most recent releases based on these ideas. People would much rather get SOMETHING, anything for $100, than get the same mediocre format, forgettable songs without anything with it for free. People want the experience to be full and the people who provide those types of experiences will win over the most fans.
Sorry to go on so long, but you basically put into words what I’ve been trying to tell my team for almost a year now. I am totally going to make every last one of them read this. It really sparked something in me, or rather put the pieces together. Thank you so much!