Attack of the Blog!

I’ve been doing some spring cleaning, doing the annual cull of worn-out sweaters, unused trinkets, and crafts that will never be completed to relieve the burden on my all-too-small storage space. I came across a box of old electronics — power sources for obsolete devices, computer speakers the size of bricks . . . and a whole bunch of CDs that I haven’t listened to in a long time. I had the moment of fond nostalgia for the time when sweeping displays of vinyl, then cassettes, then CDs were a status symbol. The time when a weighty CaseLogic in the back seat of your car offered your passengers the chance to be their own jukebox and get a glimpse into your soul. Ah, the bygone age. With the rise of MP3s, physical media have lost a lot of their value and importance. Where CDs used to proudly sit on display in impressive tower racks, they now collect dust in closets.

Ah, well. Out with the old, in with the new. I won’t completely dump my physical collection of CDs until I get a car stereo that can plug into my MP3 player. But in the meantime, I can rip the CDs in the massive bible of Alternative Rock I unearthed and relive the glory days. It was fun lifting out my lovingly cared-for copy of Ten by Pearl Jam and recalling all that it meant as my first CD ever. (After all, it was bought back when you could scratch a CD just by looking at it funny!) Especially pleasant was the memory of making mixed tapes for friends, and remembering exactly which songs held which significance. I tried to explain this to a pre-teen human I know, and just got a strange stare.

Damn kids. They don’t appreciate anything anymore.

The art of creating a mix tape of songs is forever lost. That makes me a little sad; it was such a short-lived, yet skillful craft that allowed you to convey a brilliant range of emotion. There were tight constraints on the form; thirty minutes to a side (if you were very lucky), which meant you had to carefully calculate as you held down “play” and “record” at the same time. I recall timing blank space between songs down to the millisecond to be sure that I’d be able to fit as much music as possible on that gold-labeled Memorex. After all, few things were more annoying than having to fast forward through blank tape before it flipped over.

But it wasn’t just maximizing play time that mattered. Choosing just the right songs was really what it came down to. No matter what the message you were trying to convey — cheer up, I like you like you, I miss you, take me back — it was a handcrafted valentine that took time and effort. Now there’s software that does all the work, and 700 megabytes is an awful lot of breathing room, especially if you burn MP3s. The compilation CD conveys none of the loving, handmade feel of the lowly blank cassette tape, vulnerable to erasure and impossible to copy without diminishing quality.

The art of it was that you had to be choosy. It’s not like nowadays where you can download anything in three seconds, legally or illegaly. You had to own the music you arranged in a mosaic of poetry and performance. Nick Hornby said it best: “A good compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do.”

It’s sad, really. Just the same, I’m still not going to stop using iTunes any time soon . . .

Now that’s my kind of rock band!

I love Pandora radio. It’s the finest tuned service out there to hear what you like and be introduced to new music based on your preferences. I’ve gotten acquainted with some really awesome bands that I may never have known about without Pandora. However, I gotta make one complaint — they’re snobs. In particular, they are snobs of the variety that believe that music should only be studied from a serious perspective. Never mind that the central purpose of music, just as with all forms of human expression, is to have a good time. You know . . . fun. Remember fun?

It’s not that you can’t find any funny music on there. But you won’t see it cataloged as such. It will usually be noted for its dense lyrics or upbeat rhythm, but humorous phrases or goofy musicality aren’t factored in. I became aware of this problem when I sent in an e-mail suggesting the Poxy Boggards and Merry Wives of Windsor as bands that should be added to the Pandora arsenal. Besides being solid musical acts, they’re a vibrant part of the Southern California folk music scene and have some songs that are funny as hell right along with straightforward traditional numbers.

I received a response promptly that explained that funny songs, those by Weird Al for example, weren’t considered part of the music genome project, because they contained elements of satire and humor. Which seemed bizarre to me. Correct me if I’m wrong, but Shakespeare was as well known for his comedies as his tragedies. Slightly annoyed, I went to read their statement of purpose, snippets of which read:

It’s not about what a band looks like, or what genre they supposedly belong to, or about who buys their records - it’s about what each individual song sounds like . . . we’ve carefully listened to the songs of tens of thousands of different artists - ranging from popular to obscure - and analyzed the musical qualities of each song one attribute at a time . . . This work continues each and every day as we endeavor to include all the great new stuff coming out of studios, clubs and garages around the world . . . now that we’ve created this extraordinary collection of music analysis, we think we can help be your guide as you explore your favorite parts of the music universe.

Well, my favorite part is where the funny lives. Why can’t I explore that? This is really part of a much larger problem of snobbery against humor within the educated ranks. For some reason, “cultivated” got associated with “serious” at some point. If you’re inside the circle of wine glass sniffers, the term is connoisseur. I just call them snobs. To quote the movie adaptation of High Fidelity:

Now, Pandora isn’t quite that bad. They were polite to me in the e-mail, but they did kick poor old Weird Al to the curb as if he weren’t no thang. And indirectly, they disrespected my preference for funny music by saying it wasn’t worth cataloging. To see if I could spite them, I tried to build a Pandora station of funny music only. The system couldn’t seem to figure out what I was doing, and kept suggesting songs that were nothing like what I was looking for. Ignoring the entire genre of comedy is a disservice to academic study of art, and putting limitations on the user experience will only drive people to other sites that allow them more freedom of choice.

Put down your swirling glasses of pinot noir, Pandora. Learn to crack open a beer and crack a smile once in a while. That’s the whole reason we started making music in the first place.

I must have been a librarian in another life. I really enjoy organizing my MP3 collection. (Yes, I’m a nerd.) The difficulty I encounter is the category of “Genre.” What to put? What to put??

How do you categorize The Beatles? Technically they fall under the category of “Beat Music” but that seems inadequately vague, especially considering that I have several hundred Beatles songs that boggle the mind with their diversity of style. Earlier on music was easier to categorize. I can easily file Mozart under “Classical,” Beethoven under “Romantic” and Bach under “Baroque.” Elvis is even easy to file under “Rock and Roll.” Otis Redding, Wilson Pickett, and Aretha Franklin can be defined by nothing but “Soul.”

But what makes something Pop? How many subcategories of Rock should I allow? Technically Jimi Hendrix is Acid Rock, but that’s not really helpful in making a playlist since I don’t have too much of that. Where does Fleetwood Mac go? Pop? Folk Rock? Classic Rock? I keep renaming my entire collection of Creedence Clearwater Revival and The Eagles. They lack the full blown traits of both Folk Rock and Classic Rock. I’ve settled on “Southern Rock” and lumped Crosby, Stills, and Nash in with them, as well as Bob Seger and Steve Miller. But I’m lost when it comes to the Rolling Stones. They can play the road house blues better than any good ol’ boy . . . but they ain’t Southern.

The 80’s aren’t so bad, as I only have two categories: Europop and Hair Bands. Separating Eurythmics and Alphaville from Bon Jovi and Metallica is easy. Grunge is fairly easy to pick out, as is Celtic Punk. But what am I supposed to do with all this modern teenage music? I like Jet, Muse, The Killers, and will even admit to being guilty of enjoying a bit of My Chemical Romance now and again. But I can’t come up with a label. “Emo?” Too lame. “Retro?” Too nostalgic. “Electronica?” Gives the wrong idea.

Am I thinking too much in observing that the difficulty in categorizing modern music is evidence of the ever increasing fragmentation of pop culture? It’s both a good and bad thing, allowing for individuality but also becoming so eclectic that it turns into a muddle. Throwing the rules out can create opportunity. But it also erases any framework for cohesive style . . .