The Democratizing Effect of Music Technology


In the past decade, being a music fan means following music blogs (local and national, broad and specific) and signing up for Last.fm, then Pandora, then Grooveshark, then Spotify and buying vinyl records and complaining when they don’t include a digital download. It’s an embarrassment of riches – and one that allows us to complain endlessly in anonymous and absolutist terms about what’s wrong with everything and everyone. The Internet – while not a flying car or a hover skateboard – has transformed the way we communicate and is the defining futuristic element of the 21st century (so far, we have a little time left).

Narrow that blossom of technology to focus on music, where I think three really significant things have happened.  First of all, anyone is now capable of complete distribution of music – (theoretically) unfettered by geography or wealth. Second, personal computer recording software has made it possible for anyone to make a decent sounding recording of their music. I know that Larry Crane would disagree with me, but a piece of software like Garageband absolutely kills the fidelity and range of possibilities that home-recording hobbyist once achieved on the cassette four-track, and for someone boasting a few choice microphones, outboard gear, an innate talent for engineering and mixing, it provides the ability to make professional recording at home, for $0. That’s fucking amazing – its an incredible leap forward. No matter what anyone tells you about the tape machines and EMI boards at Abbey Road, the Beatles would’ve scrapped those digs in a second for a Macbook with Garageband.

The third thing is the taste-making power of music blogs and sites (like Pitchfork, Stereogum, Aquarium Drunkard, you local music blog – I currently live in Austin TX, where there’s a hundred about local music). In the mid-00’s, Pitchfork famously boosted the careers of Arcade Fire and Clap Your Hands Say Yeah – while it seems that’s power has ebbed somewhat, its still an astonishing change. If you’re a fan of music, your opinion of music blogs probably falls somewhere on the “Fuck That ----- I Love That” spectrum, mostly at one extreme or the other. The power of the music blog – and ultimately the instantaneous distribution and the daily incorporation of bleeding edge that it represents – is transforming how we think about music.

The Young People
One thing I’ve noticed about this transformation is that we’re seeing younger people gaining attention earlier for their recording work. I think of folks like James Blake, Wavves, Best Coast, Odd Future, Arctic Monkeys, Youth Lagoon, Smith Westerns, etc. – you know: youngsters. Part of their boilerplate bio was to mention how old they are, as in “holy shit, have you heard that James Blake album and can you believe he was 21 when he recorded it?” (“yeah, but I prefer his early stuff.”) We’re meeting artist in the first flower of their talent, in the moment that the preceding years of musical discovery has led to (remember how that felt? discovering music as a teenager. Someone, somewhere, is 15-years old and listening to Dark Side of the Moon for the first time.)

I think this is great and its also awful. In the varied spectrum of my personal taste, here’s my personal and inevitably flawed opinion on a microcosm: I think that James Blake’s self-titled album is nearly perfect, but I wish that Wavves’ Nathan Williams had cut his teeth in a couple crap bands before his gift for surfy-punky earworms caught national attention.

The Old People
As of this writing (draft: March 2012), I’m thirty-six years old – I’m impossibly old by the standards of the music I have loved, as a serious fan and failed artist, for twenty-five year. But I’m still shocked by my love and my fandom – and even more shocked by my desire to continue creating music.

In thinking about The Young People – and how we’re now subjected to their very first recording – I started thinking about the Old People: shouldn’t the democratization of distribution and recording be yielding brilliant work at the other end of popular music’s age spectrum? Aren’t there long-suffering but unlucky talents out there still making music, despite the fact that opportunity failed to knock (or they failed to answer); People who missed their chance or never took it, but cannot stop making music, living and breathing it, because its their passion? Because something in the person they are won’t let  them stop creating?

What shocks me – as a musician and attempted artist – is the relief that I feel when I admit that any chance of critical or popular success is beyond me, and yet I’m still giddy about making music.

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