We just wrapped up a three-part series on the contemporary classical recording scene penned by ace reporter Jody Dalton over on NewMusicBox. Dalton’s research seemed to demonstrate that despite the wider recording industry’s tales of woe and gloom and tripping and bloodying knees and plummeting down cliffs, etc., the contemporary classical CD bin still chugs along, scrappy before, still scrappy now. And they are still pressing real-world product.
But it’s 2009 and I have to wonder: why this obsession with the circular shiny? Really, it’s when I read articles like this one about the next steps taken towards that miracle jukebox that eliminates the plastic and leaves your floor and wall space free for better looking eye candy that I get happy. I don’t like to see things sent to the landfill, but why does anyone, excepting those in the audiophile club, cling to the format? Who among us is nostalgically attached to those cool, crisp CDs?
But then I think about how little music I listen to, considering so much music is just a link away. CDs seem to have nine lives to give, and perhaps it’s ill-advised of me to suggest we should hurry along their demise. Weingarten’s commentary has been bouncing around among the music journos for a while now, but I haven’t seen much discussion of it on the art music side yet. Will Twitter save us, or will the new paradigm ensure that “nothing adventurous ever gets out”?
Chris Becker says
“…but why does anyone, excepting those in the audiophile club, cling to the format? Who among us is nostalgically attached to those cool, crisp CDs?”
Who is “us” Molly? Let me try to respond without sounding like I’m busting your chops. I’m definitely not a shill for the CD industry, BUT…
I am a composer. I am hyper sensitive to sound. I create music in recording studios. I play music live. I attend concerts. And I listen to music on vinyl, CD, as well as all of the current digital formats one encounters online.
I don’t operate in a haze of “nostalgia”; I am a contemporary artist with a knowledge of how music comes across via the mediums and venues I named above. I really appreciate iTunes for instance, but when I play iTunes downloads on a decent stereo system, I can immediately hear that a relatively broad range of frequencies is missing from the recording. It’s not a matter of opinion or even preference. It’s just a fact.
And that fact may mean that my hearing is more developed than someone who listens exclusively to mp3s, iPods, and streaming radio. I recently ordered Nadia Sirota’s new CD because I knew it would sound hundred times better in that format than as a digital download. And sure enough, I see (by looking at the physical object’s liner notes) that is was mastered at Looking Glass studios. A great mastering studio and engineer can take a good recording to the level of the sublime. See, SOUND excites me. Ooo – Looking Glass studios! Solo viola – juicy!!!
And am I REALLY going to hear what Nadia’s doing via ear buds on the G train? It’s crazy to me that I even have to go out of my way to make this point…the subway is louder than the music folks. What are you hearing?
What are you feeling?
When you describe this “nostalgic audiophile” club that apparently should be happier listening to music on an iPhone…I realize you’re trying to get a conversation going. And I’m not even arguing for one format over the other. I’m just pointing out that as a musician I have a level of hearing that is sensitized and serves me as an artist. And I’m amazed that more of “us” composers back away from this subject. Like we’re scared no one will download our music cos were audio snobs.
Isn’t it wonderful that aural sensitivity (re: neurotica) brings music to the world? And aren’t we (that is, musicians) denigrating ourselves by not speaking honestly about what we’re hearing and not hearing?
Now if you’re talking about the physical object itself – hey, I think several shelves of CD spines or a crate of records is visually beautiful. But that’s a matter of taste. Although along with books, it’s also a great cheap way to deaden a studio where you are mixing music.
Too much caffeine on a Sunday morning.
Molly clarifies: To be clear, I was not lumping the audiophiles and the nostalgics into one camp. I was just trying to offer a nod to those, like you, who clearly appreciate the sound the CD offers and do not feel other options are up to snuff (yet?). I didn’t mean to pick an argument with that camp. They, as you illustrate, have special listening needs. (Personally, I dislike CDs because when I slip them into my laptop, they spin louder than the playback, but that’s a question of the available technology at any one person’s fingertips.)
But quite apart from that, I was also wondering if there is anyone out there who has formed an emotional attachment larger than the object to CDs, the way others feel about albums. I think this makes me old, because I don’t know anyone personally who has. They seem so easily disposable, those little plastic silver rings. So, anyone? Anyone?
Ian David Moss says
Never underestimate the capacity of human beings for nostalgia. However, in order to be nostalgic, the thing one is nostalgic for has to be unavailable or scarce, which is not the case for CDs yet.
Marc Geelhoed says
I’m attached to CDs, mainly because they’re tangible objects that I can get attached to. A downloaded track just sits there, waiting for the next time I grab the iPod. Of course, I could wire the iPod to the stereo, but that’s an audio investment I have yet to make. But then, the sound quality of the download is so bad that when it’s played over the stereo, as Chris Becker says, the sound is completely flat and has no depth.
BUT, with lossless downloads becoming more common, even at the SACD level of fidelity, that attachment may lessen somewhat. Plus, I do get nostalgic when I pick up a CD and think back to when I got it in high school or grad school or whatever, and it brings back the memory of that time and the hopes I’d invested in that album. (Essentially, MAKE ME HAPPY.) That has yet to happen with anything I’ve downloaded.