The Way the Music Died, by Elayne Riggs
The older I get, the more there is to keep track of. I realized this some time ago; part of being a grown-up, particularly if you’re on your own, is making hard choices. When I moved out of my parents’ house, I suddenly had to consider expenditures like rent, food, cat litter… and something had to give.
It wasn’t going to be my zine, INSIDE JOKE was my baby and my outlet and my connection to like-minded folk, and I knew that’d take up the majority of my disposable income. (See, in those days you couldn’t self-publish for free like you can do today with blogging and so forth, so those of us who tended to be responsible about our hobbies knew enough to apportion x-amount of dollars that we knew we’d never see again due to printing and postage costs, even if we charged subscribers the requisite buck or two for each issue.) And I couldn’t give up my books, I needed something to do on the subways. I just can’t stare into space, even wearing a Walkman. So music was what went by the wayside. Not kicking and screaming, just sort of fading away.
I’d chosen my hobbies. And reading and writing are activities for which I need silence, which is why to this day it irks me when religious wackos and wandering troubadors come traipsing through the subway car in which I happen to be sitting. (Why do I always get the ones with the bongos? And honestly, religious wackos with bongos are just not going to convert a lot of people, ba dum bum.) Music seemed too important to be treated as background; it demanded my aural attention in the same way reading demands attention from my eyes and imagination. And I just couldn’t spare the awareness any more.
When I was a kid music was more participatory for me than a spectator sport. I don’t remember too many details about what I was hooked on at the time, aside from things I could sing myself (I used to try to imitate Julie Andrews but, alas, that’s a bit painful for an alto) or learn to play on the flute (my band instrument of choice) or piano (which my grandmother played beautifully but which, ultimately, my stubby fingers couldn’t quite master). As a teenager, I was heavily into bubblegum as well as melodic songwriters like Carole King and James Taylor, I learned the guitar and the Lord’s Prayer in a Christian-run band school, and made it to the semi-finals in a singing contest where I performed Joni Mitchell’s "The Circle Game" on stage at the then-Garden State Arts Center.
I think that’s also when I started writing songs of my own, which continued through college as my musical horizons broadened a lot. My best friend, the late Bill-Dale Marcinko, was very tuned into the zeitgeist of the time, and introduced me to mind-expanding acts like Graham Parker and Supertramp and Lene Lovich. There were a number of good used record stores in New Brunswick where I could buy cheap LPs with the "pin money" I made from the typing service I ran from my dorm room. I went to a fair number of concerts, everyone from Renaissance to Meatloaf (seventh row for that one, and oh yeah, that was the original band with Steinman and all), the details of which I no longer remember. I briefly dated a guy who sang bass in a doo-wop a cappella group. And of course I went through my aforementioned Beatlemania. Music surrounded me, at a volume and pace I could control, and I was happy.
After graduation I moved back in with my parents for a few years, where I kept writing, recording a number of my songs on cassette (which I still have but haven’t listened to in a quarter of a century) and even performing one on television — a tribute to Floyd Vivino which I got to sing on his Uncle Floyd Show. That’s right, bitches, the same "stage" that featured the Ramones, deal with it! I sometimes wonder if the tape of that performance still exists; my parents didn’t have a VCR at the time, although I had enjoyed the luxury of cable television and the debut of MTV.
Back then, and I know this’ll shock a lot of you young’uns, MTV not only stood for "music television" but actually played music videos, pretty much all the time. It was cool. We all had our favorite "veejays" (I guess I liked Mark Goodman the best; the only one who really scared me a bit was Nina Blackwood) and high-rotation videos. Without MTV, I’m convinced the careers of musicians like Men At Work and Cyndi Lauper might never have taken off. Not to mention Dexy’s Midnight Runners and Men Without Hats, and you’re welcome in advance for the accompanying earworms with which I’ve just infected you. Alas, while video may have killed the radio star, video itself succumbed to the infancy of reality programming.
But I wasn’t there for that inception. At age 25 I moved to Brooklyn, which at the time was the land that cable forgot (at least my portion of Flatbush). And so without access to TV tastemakers, with little desire to play music whilst writing at home and little opportunity to listen whilst in motion (no car needed in NYC, hence no car radio), and especially with having to deal with a noisy and rude upstairs neighbor who apparently made his very loud living as a DJ, I gradually bid farewell to my love of contemporary music, nurtured so lovingly through all those years of bubblegum and Beatlemania, singer-songwriters and prog-rockers, punks and greasers and everything in between. And I didn’t even realize I was doing it. At some point in the late ’80s or so, I just lost touch with what was coming out.
Come to think of it, I believe the main reason I’d stopped buying music was because I was boycotting CDs. I was pissed that the music industry had unilaterally decided, seemingly overnight, to do away with LPs. If consumers had simply wanted to stop buying vinyl, if the decision had been made at the end-user level that they preferred the new format to the old, as with cassettes versus 8-tracks or Beta versus VHS, I would probably have gone along with the crowd and who knows how much more in tune I’d be today. But this wasn’t a marketplace decision at all. No, the producers just up and forced buyers to buy not only CDs but CD players, and my beloved LPs with their cool cover art and liner notes and inside-sleeve lyrics disappeared pretty quickly. And I was pissed. So I held out for a long while, probably 15 years or so, while all the artists I’d known switched from vinyl to shiny discs and the ones I never discovered debuted in the format I’d chosen to actively ignore. And boy, I really showed them, didn’t I?
When my first husband was in the Navy, music was one of his salvations. I don’t recall that Steve was into any newer sounds, but he had a nice collection of ’60s and ’70s music which supplemented my own rather well. As I recall most of his stuff was on cassette, since one can’t really lug a record player around on military supply ships. After his service was over and he moved in, Steve didn’t seem to feel a great need for us to "go CD" either. Also, after we married we sought the quiet life, particularly after we moved to Bensonhurst (still no cable there until the last couple years of our residency) where our first landlords were an elderly couple who also craved silence. So we woke up to the haunting strains of Howard Stern on our clock radio instead of whatever passed for music in those days. We were pretty strictly fans of what’s now referred to as "dinosaur rock." I don’t remember paying much attention to anything new at the time, like Nirvana ("Kurt who?") or REM or whoever else was around.
My current marriage is a bit different musically. Remember, as a writer, I’ve preferred to work in silence. But as an artist, Robin plays music in his studio pretty constantly. When he emigrated he brought over his vast-and-I-do-mean-VAST collection of CDs spanning his eclectic tastes — largely in British music that didn’t make it quite so big on this side of the pond. His countless Beatles bootlegs fit nicely into that rekindled mania of mine, and he’s also an early adopter when it comes to 21st century tech, so we now have a pretty hefty collection of MP3s, concert DVDs and the like. Thank goodness he also had LPs or I would have felt even more out of the loop! Although for a few years he wasn’t getting anything new either, having moved to a land whose record stores were unfamiliar. (And my knowledge stopped at "I think there are some good places on Carmine Street in the West Village.") Then Amazon and iTunes came along, it became amazingly easy to buy music in an instant with a couple clicks, our collection began to grow once more, and it hasn’t stopped yet.
After my now-ex-job moved to New Rochelle and I needed a car, I found radio stations that actually played the kind of music I liked, from both new and established artists. Of course, now I’m firmly on the side of the generational fence that warns kids to stay off lawns, so all the up-and-comers look like they’re about 12 years old to me. But I was exposed to new artists just the same, and now I like folks like John Mayer (whose blog I read, along with those of Julian Lennon, David Byrne and Thomas Dolby), KT Tunstall, and Mika (that one’s thanks to Robin), and I can just about tell the difference between Jack Black and Jack White. I’ve never cottoned to American Idol, just as I never watched any amateur hour shows like Star Search when I was younger, so manufactured popstars are by and large beyond my radar, as are most genres on which I didn’t imprint, and the music section of Entertainment Weekly remains the only part of that magazine that I barely skim. (But then, I was never into music mags like Creem and Rolling Stone anyway, believing critics to be using some sort of pretentious, coded foreign language to describe what I merely listened to, in much the same way food critics pull strange words out of their asses to snootily judge food that the rest of us either enjoy or don’t.) However, I’m now playing catch-up on all that music I missed, remembering more and more how much I loved it.
My guitar still sits in a closet somewhere, and the fingertips on my left hand no longer bear any callouses. My flute — heck, I can’t even find it any more. Maybe someday I’ll rediscover my own voice again. But you know, there are just so many hours in the day, and for now I’ve chosen to "play" the computer keyboard instead. And when I rest from that, there are always the new songs to listen to from those in my generation who are still rocking out rather than fading away.
Elayne Riggs can be found blogging here, and has decided to take a page from Michael Davis’ book and employ her own artist to illustrate her column; fortunately she’s married to one so that part was pretty easy.
You are right. CDs were forced onto the buying public for several reasons. One was spoilage. Records can scratch and warp n shipping and tapes degenerate from temperature changes or just prolonged storage. CDs are much easier to maintain quality control, easier to ship and smaller to store. PLUS, record companies could charge MORE for CDs even after production costs made them cheaper to manufacture than either tapes or vinyl! And people were willing to re-buy large portions of their music libraries to have them in the new and more convenient format. This brought on a boom time for Recording Companies. Flash forward twenty years. The new format is mp3s. The new player is iPod, which sells something like 70% of the personal digital music players in the world! Why? It's a great product and iTunes is a simple, intuitive program with a simple, easy to navigate and well run store.The problem is, we don't have to pay to convert our CDs to this NEW format. The CDs practically convert themselves. This means that CDs aren't used as much as the music medium we listen to, they are just another method of transporting the data to our computers and iPods. It's all digital. And music companies aren't seeing as much financial gain from shifting formats.Then there is the question of PIRACY and free distribution. File sharing is a problem and not just for the record companies and artists. It's not just that revenue streams have become chaotic. But we VALUE what we pay for. So much music is given away for free by artists on MySpace and the like or shared (i.e. "stolen") between friends that I fear music doesn't MEAN as much to us anymore.Remember when the pulse beat of society was determined by what was going on in music? The protest music of the 60s and early 70s meant something. Just this morning, I heard a cable news show use "What's Goin' On," by Marvin Gaye as bumper music, going to commercial, coming out of a segment where the war in Iraq was being discussed. My first thought was, "That's cool." My next thought was, "Where is the music of today about the war?"Name the music artists that matter today, that make a difference. Name the ones that are actually SAYING something, something current and something profound. I can name a few. I think The Dixie Chicks, "Not Ready to Make Nice," was a profound, political and timely statement. I think Green Day's "American Idiot" is important. I think Matchbox Twenty's recent hit, "How Far We've Come," is trying to say something more than most pop. U2 and Bruce Springsteen are still making important statements, but are they dinosaurs now? Frankly, none of the artists I named are less than five years on the scene. Most are ten to thirty years. It's not that important music isn't getting made, but it's not getting the attention it deserves and it's not resonating in our lives and changing our culture. For a brief, shining moment Rap Music and Hip Hop were vital and important. Remember NWA? Remember songs with a message? Remember loving or hating Eminem and thinking that "Stan" meant something?What do we have now? "Soulja Boy Tell 'Em" with "Crank That." My daughters LOVE that song! I defy you to tell me what it's about. As far as I can tell Soulja Boy is mostly calling out choreography. Iit's about as deep as "The Hokey Pokey." Rihanna is telling me to come under her umbrella-ella-ella and just shut up and drive. I'm not against pop music. I LOVE bubblegum pop! Rihanna is some fine pop. But I also want some depth. Even "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," had more depth.I have TWO theories about why music has lost much of it's meaning and visceral connection in our lives. And I think this has a direct connection with ComicMix! First, music is SO cheap and easily shared that we don't VALUE it as much. Second, music has become less of a PHYSICAL reality. It's all digital. It's all platonic and conceptual and ephemeral. We don't HOLD the records in our hands. We don't lovingly blow the dust out of the grooves. We can't hold the album cover and read the lyrics sheets printed on the dust sleeve while listening to the music. Music is just an aural pleasure, in one ear and out the other. We don't hold the TALISMANS of music in our hands and pull them to our hearts. There is a reason Catholics hold a rosary while reciting prayers. The beads give PHYSICALITY to the words. The small cross is a physical reminder that Christians believe that GOD (and that is an ethereal concept if there ever was one) became FLESH and dwelt among us. There is power in being able to TOUCH something. There is power in the belief that God can and has taken PHYSICAL form. But I'm off the subject.ComicMix is a very cool site. There are free comics here. And it has a simple, intuitive reader. I can see digital comics starting a revolution in comics publishing and I can imagine ComicMix leading the way!Here's the problem. We value what we pay for and we NEED to have some PHYSICAL connection with what ultimately makes a resounding emotional impact. We need to feel like we have a sense of OWNERSHIP in order to feel a sense of value and make an emotional connection. We can own things we don't touch, but it's hard to FEEL that in your gut. We want to touch and hoard and love our STUFF!It's like the difference between how we spend with CASH or CREDIT CARDS. Scrooge McDuck never swam in a pile of credit cards.There is one thing that ComicMix has going for it, as far as imparting a sense of ownership and emotional investment. It's interactive. I've always thought that one of the major elements that set comics apart from other entertainment media was the letters page. This was a direct, interactive element, where fans could not only express opinions, but often see their ideas shape the course of the story! This fan interaction continues even more directly and immediately at conventions. Star Trek fans feel a sense of ownership and emotional investment in the franchise, in part, because they have made being a Star Trek fan more and more interactive. Maybe this goes all the way back to the letter writing campaign that saved the third season.I have made comments on essays, articles and comics here on ComicMix and gotten near instantaneous responses from other fans, writers, editors and artists. In some cases these are people whose work I've read and loved for decades! Some have said, "Russ, you're full of shit" (usually not in so many words), but I appreciate even those opinions. And it's not just flattering that MY opinions are valued. ComicMix has all the benefits of a letters page, with the immediacy of a continuous convention. It's given me an emotional investment in ComicMix and in the comics here that I might not have if the stories were just books. Thank you.
Wow, and thank YOU for such a long, well-thought-out comment, Russ! I agree with you a lot about physicality, and I know ComicMix is planning to amass physical collections of the comics we debut here once a certain page count is reached. And yes, a quarter century or so after CDs have become established it's easy to see their convenience, but the fact remains that it was not allowed to be a consumer choice in the first place, and I wish the producers had just had more faith in the buying public to make the decision for themselves. Meanwhile, I eagerly await Elvis Costello's new album, which I understand will be a vinyl-only release.
I'm a HUGE Elvis Costello fan! It's funny, several years ago I was trying to explain to my brother-in-law about how cool the iPod is. He was skeptical, a bit of a Ludite. He kept saying, "Why would I want all my music walking around with me in my pocket? I can't listen to more than one tape's worth of music when I go jogging. A walkman is just fine for me."Then, to change the subject he said, "Have you heard the new Elvis Costello album?""Yeah," I said, "Do you want to hear it?""Do you have the CD out in the car?""No," I replied, "it's on my iPod, in my pocket!"I pulled it out and popped up "The Delivery Man."His jaw dropped. "How did you do that?"I said, "That's what I've been trying to tell you! It's not a question of being able to listen to all of it. But I can pull up practically ANYTHING in my music collection, anything I want to listen to, any time, any place."You are right, Elvis Costello's new album, "Momofuku," is only available initially on vinyl, but Amazon.com seems to think it's coming out on CD, May 6. I can wait. I read that he's opening for the Police. Now THAT would be a cool concert!