So Long, Bob  | |
 | The Death of the Album? |
| My Practice of Zen in the Office | |
| My Blank Pages | |
| Classical Confusion |
The Death of the Album? by Matt ConroyInsound, the online music retailer, recently launched a campaign to “Save the Album” (www.savethealbum.com), declaring that it would begin selling music digitally, but only in the ubiquitous MP3 format, and only as part of a full album purchase. To build awareness of the campaign, it has enlisted indie heavy hitters such as Devendra Banhart, Colin Meloy of The Decemberists, Bloc Party and John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats to talk about their favorite albums and what makes them special (damn it's nice to see The Pogues' Rum, Sodomy & the Lash getting so much love). It's an admirable campaign but one, I suspect, that is doomed to failure. The rise of digital music players and the ability to download virtually any track under the sun for 99 cents or less has been both liberating and damaging – liberating for listeners who can surf rapidly from one track to the next, have their favorites at their fingertips and sample the wares before buying, but damaging for musicians whose work is being increasingly splintered into tiny pieces, digital file by digital file. The album means less than it ever has, and that is something to lament, as much for musical as for tactile reasons. Like most listeners over the age of 35, I used to spend hours with my favorite albums as a teenager, immersing myself in them, both musically and visually – poring over the album art, deciphering scrawled lyrics sheets, listening them as a whole , from beginning to end. The Talking Heads' Remain In Light , Elvis Costello's Imperial Bedroom , Squeeze's Argybargy and, yes, Rum, Sodomy & the Lash – these and so many others have become like good friends to me because I spent so much time absorbing them in one go, then flipping them back over and laying the needle down to start again. To this day, I have a hard time listening to any of them on random shuffle. My mind wants to lead from “Shabby Doll” directly into “The Long Honeymoon,” and when it doesn't happen Earth seems to wobble on its axis. The pleasure of the album diminished considerably with the rise of the CD, and now seems ready to disappear completely as digital sales take an increasingly large bite of the music market. In place of an album on the shelf that you can pull out at any moment you now have a file that can disappear in the wink of an eye of you're not careful. (Don't forget regular backups!) In place of artwork that you can touch and feel and immerse yourself in you now have the iTunes “digital booklet” (if you're lucky). In place of the album as concept you now have the random playlist. It's all very cold and not especially comforting. Yes, it's lovely to be able to carry all of my music around on a device the size of my wallet, but I'd still rather sit in front of the speakers or with my headphones late at night, with the actual album (or what's left of it) in hand. Happily, there are still artists out there producing records that are as wonderful to listen to from end-to-end as they are to own. Andy Partridge of XTC recently completed his Fuzzy Warbles series, a stunning 8 CD box set of outtakes, rarities, alternate versions and assorted other material that comes housed in a wonderfully inventive facsimile of a children's stamp collecting book. The do-if-yourself stickers that accompany Beck's latest, The Information , may be keeping him off the UK charts, but in my opinion he should be applauded for actually giving a damn about the extra-musical, as well as the musical, aspects of the album. It's not always just a matter of expensive design and extra goodies. The booklet of a disc reviewed in the current issue of Being There, Grizzly Bear's Yellow House (a challenging sort of throwback album that needs to be listened to from end-to-end, as a whole), offers little more than a series of desolate photos of the interior of a residence and lyrics (if you're adventurous enough to disassemble the jewel case). But the package seems so appropriate to the music and its somewhat veiled quality that it adds an extra dimension to the aesthetic experience. So, good luck Insound. Things look bleak for the album, but it's not quite dead yet. If enough of us raise holy hell maybe something will change, but I'm not holding my breath. And I'd better not find anyone touching my collection. |  |
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