Electronic Music

I think (and talk) a lot about the way the internet is effecting our lives. So do a lot of people. Well, whatever. No one is reading this and so it's fine to cover well-covered topics. Anyhoo, most of these thoughts are too broad to pin down, too rooted in a feeling, a general compiled sense of the way things were and the way things are, rather than sharp, cutting, fit and trimmed thoughts that can be easily translated into words. Some, more specifically my thoughts on music, are prime for such translation.

I was in a class the other day, Education and the Aesthetic Experience, in which we were discussing the role of music for people living under the Soviet Union in the 60's. Slowly, this turned into a lamentation on the fact that music ("rock and roll") (supposedly) doesn't have as much to say as it used to. Examples were thrown around, as Marc Antony and J-Lo were unfavorably compared to Bob Dylan and John Lennon. Ignoring the misuse of the term rock and roll and the clear lack of exposure that the class had to music, it did re-highlight the changing nature of music delivery.

In the past, you didn't need to be a music aficionado to hear good music on the radio. Sure, you would hear a great deal of crappy music as well, but you'd also get in some Nirvana, some Pearl Jam, some Third Eye Blind. These days, quality music coming out of a mainstream source is much more of a rarity. My theory, as I have espoused repeatedly, is that most of the people looking for great music do it through independent channels, a task made infinitely easier due to the internet. For these music-lovers, there is no need for the radio or anything like it. This, I imagine, greatly reduces the market and the buzz around major rock artists. Without the core listeners, record companies need to cast a wider net, hence more generic music that you might buy on impulse at Wal-Mart for a relative, but that you wouldn't spend time scouring Limewire to download (if you've even heard of Limewire).

For me, the internet has been a wonderful source of music. As for the state of mainstream music, I find it lamentable, but it's hard to shed too many tears when you're busy downloading new jams every day. What is currently bothering me, and what I was thinking about after my aesthetics class is that this dissipation of a core group of quality music acts that everyone knows deprives music of its holy celebratory status. Bob Dylan is a legend. He has an aura several decades after his time that almost anyone who was alive, and many that weren't, will talk about. Will the same be true for acts like Conor Oberst, arguably an even better songwriter?

There is a certain wholeness lacking in music. Even with the most loved of artists, the constant accessibility of a million other songs takes something away from the best and most loved groups. This, in a sense, has been one of the tragedies of most modern developments--the loss of holiness surrounding the most elite in any category, the leveling of playing fields. I can't help but feel a special tinge of pain thinking about it with music though, as memories of the hours of repeat listens of the freshly opened cd are still close to my heart. I also can't help but feel that the internet, whether for better or for worse, is going to be pushing us all both into greater public view (on the internet itself), but also into greater anonymity (in our real lives), in a similar way as it is happening to musicians right now.

Thought-Drive & Blogs

It's funny the way posting on a blog effects your thought patterns. Now that I've starting writing online (I can't bring myself to use the word blogging), I've found myself thinking in terms of short, novel writing selections for a nondescript audience. Before now, I would usually think in terms of conversing with close friends. My thoughts would come to me as words I would say to Matt or Elise or Mikey, etc.

There are a few elements of this that I find intruiging. First, it says something about the format of a blog. It is like a worldwide conversation. You're not just talking to a page, you're talking essentially to everyone (and anyone). This is especially true of blogs, rather than other forms of online writing, first because blogging (aha! I did it) is such a constant and fluid activity; it can be done about anything at any time and is expected to be fairly regular. Secondly, it is conversational in that blogs are highly intertextual. They constantly ref each other, almost like a forum posting without an organizer.

The second aspect that this highlighted was the nature of thoughts. Do they always occur in a specific format? I am guessing that most people habitually think in one way or another--to one audience or another--in such a consistent manner that they don't even recognize it. It is only when they switch environments or start reading one type of text so heavily that it starts influencing their thoughts.

Lastly, it highlights for me the idea of conversation as a drive, and further, thoughts as a drive. When I'm thinking to another person, it's like building up little bits of expressive desire. An event happens, or I have a thought, and then I subsequently have the desire to tell it to whatever person I think would be most interested. It is almost like a sex drive. You have a desire and want to express it/satisfy it. That may sound ridiculous and send the middle-schoolers in all of us giggling to the floor, but I think there's something to it; thought drive