8Sided Blog

the scene celebrates itself

#WorkTones: Bana Haffar, Nicola Cruz, Ditherfix

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Rather than whistling while I work, I listen to weird music. Cleverly (?) labeled worktones, here are a few office selections from the past couple of days.

The venerable Touch label has issued a live set from Asheville synthesist Bana Haffar. Described as a Saudi-born ‘life-long expatriate’, Haffar has worked to distance herself from the musical discipline learned as a classical violinist and electric bassist, presently opting for the unrestrained dialogue of modular electronics. This release captures the 33-minute “Genera” as performed at AB Salon in Brussels. Haffar’s modular wizardry is on full display, accompanied by gentle field recordings to shift the listener’s imagined landscape. The result is adventurous, though also hypnotic and warm. I’m pleasantly lost in this.

Nicola Cruz’s Siku takes its name from an Andean panpipe and, if I’m not mistaken, you’re hearing it played throughout this promising album. These tracks are an example of ‘fourth world music‘1And ambiguous ‘fourth world’ music is my favorite kind of music, it should be noted. that not only blurs worldly genres but mixes these styles with contemporary electronics. Not completely liminal, the cuts retain an ethnicity and the electronic elements — mostly focused on the rhythms — often hover away from the primary focus. But the experiment is rewarding and there are moments when the collision is of its own category. The final track, “Esu Enia,” is the most intriguing, pivoting back-and-forth from traditional-sounding tuned percussion to dark, synthesized responses. Siku could have pushed further, but I anticipate Cruz will continue to explore these fascinating combinations.

Ditherfix (or [ d i t h e r f i x ]) is creating horror-movie drone ambiance mainly on iOS. That means he’s on an iPad — or maybe even an iPhone — conjuring these cinematic noises in settings that include “in the woods, on a train, at the kitchen table, a corner chair, or at times operating from an ironing board in the bedroom.” I love the idea of this mobility and it’s exciting to see iOS gain traction as a production tool. Just as the walkman changed how we listen to music, an untethered yet sonically capable portable electronic studio undoubtedly produces music directly influenced by the surrounding environment. In the case of the seven thunders, that must have been an incredibly spooky ironing board. (h/t Daniel Fuzztone)

An Interview With Sync-Club Podcast

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Listen to “Rolling the Dice with Michael Donaldson | 001” on Spreaker.

Steven Cleveland — of the electronic band Ping Trace who I’ve worked with — has started a podcast titled Sync-Club. As I understand it, the podcast is Steven’s journey in better understanding the worlds of publishing, licensing, and synchronization with the listener along for the ride. The podcast will feature interviews with professionals working in synch as the knowledge gets dropped. It’s a great concept. The synch world could use some demystification from a learner’s point of view.

I’m honored to help launch this podcast by being the interviewee on the first episode. Steven and I have a fun and informative conversation. I go deep on a variety of licensing-related subjects, and towards the end, I reveal a few tactics for the best ways that an independent artist can reach out to music supervisors.

The podcast conversation is also like a taste of one of my consulting sessions. I cover similar ground with my label and artist clients. Interested? Send me a note.

One of my favorite riffs concerns how an artist should not overthink the synch market, falling into the trap of creating music that might be ‘great for licensing.’ Music your fans love will end up being the music that supervisors love, so don’t abandon both by writing music to some imagined spec. Here’s a transcription of this riff from the podcast, edited for clarity:

There is a market for creating music specifically with sync in mind, and that’s called library music. And if you want to make library music that’s fine if that’s your prerogative. But if you’re looking for something beyond that, then you still need to create the best music you can for your fans, your audience.

A music supervisor, a showrunner, or a director will want their project to be cool and distinctive. So they’re going to look for cool and distinctive music to match their perception of what the project should be. When you’re making music to spec or to what you think someone is going to want to hear, you’re not making distinctive music. It might sound cool, but it’s not going to be distinctive.

And another issue is I feel like the library music industry is in jeopardy because of AI music. Creating music to spec — for example, songs with glockenspiels and handclaps with the lyrics, “you can do it!” — is intentionally generic. But people make songs like these because they’re the kind of songs used in a lot of videos. It’s a race to the bottom, and nothing is going to be closer to the bottom and able to do spec better than a computer in two or three years.

I feel bad for people that are making a living in the library music industry because I think they’re the ones who are going to be hurt by this. But on the other hand, artists and bands with distinctive sounds and sticky stories — a story behind the band and who they are and what they’re about — are going to stand out in the synch world. Those kinds of bands may even see an increase in the money they’re making from synch as the field of distinctive, story-driven artists will actually narrow in a crowded marketplace.

You also have to think in terms of who music supervisors are when you’re pitching music. You have to put yourself in their shoes and understand where they come from. Music supervisors are music fans. That’s the reason they got into the profession. I was thinking earlier today about how a lot of newer executives in the record industry are tech people rather than music people. It’s almost like music supervision is the last area that’s entirely populated by music fans, and I don’t see that changing.

Your average music supervisor was in a band once, or they were a DJ on a college radio station or at a nightclub. They might have worked at a label or written about music professionally. When you realize that you better understand how to pitch your music. Music supervisors want to discover bands. They want to support a band that has a story that they connect with. And obviously, they also want a really good song that fits the project. But if you have a compelling story, then you have a greater chance of getting your song to them.

Check out Sync-Club’s website here, and be sure to subscribe to the podcast’s newsletter — and the podcast itself via your favorite listening platform — as I’m sure it will provide a wealth of useful information.

Choosing, Not Chosen

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Here’s an informative video that inspired a spirited conversation in my household:

Watch on YouTube

I can understand the overwhelming temptation to appease and filter for THE ALGORITHM when you’re making a living off your YouTube and online efforts. But there’s a loss of voice, akin to the loss of agency that casual listening creates. Rather than choosing we’re being chosen.

There’s an SEO plug-in installed on my blog, and it tells me that I should optimize my titles and my content for traffic-catching metrics. I was paying attention to its demands for a while, changing snappy short titles to longer (less fun) ones that complied with SEO-recommended character limits. I was told to insert keywords into the content and always attach eye-catching featured images (I was never good at that aspect). I’d get stressed out when the plug-in told me that I wasn’t adhering to the internet’s mysterious ordinances.

But, here’s the thing: there are many blogs and newsletters that I love, and none of these follow the rules. Some of these authors have a voice that flies in the face of these rules — one-word titles, blog posts with only a few sentences, the minimalist of minimal site layouts. I frequent these outlets for the voice of the author, not any click-worthy title or high search rank. I fear that if we all follow the SEO or algorithmic guidelines, then these voices would disappear. Pleasing the SEO computer is trying to please everyone, and we all know the cliché about what happens when you try to please everyone. But it’s more than ending up not pleasing anybody — it’s about not connecting with your people, to not have a flag on the map of your territory, to be invisible from your tribe.

There are those who are going for mass and, according to their goals, choose to follow the rules. That’s cool. Derek Muller, in the video above, is doing so grudgingly but he’s in the machine where 5 million vs. 10 million views have a direct impact on his project’s budget. Veritasium is a channel with — at the least — staff and travel requirements, so there’s a good reason to keep the views and funding high.1And it’s a well-done science channel, worth your subscription in my opinion. But my needs — and the needs of the bloggers and channels I follow — are different. We’re looking for that longterm connection and an audience that’s on board because of our way of saying things. It’s not that Derek doesn’t want that — it’s evident from his video that his voice and point of view are essential and he’s struggling with maintaining these — but the success of his platform is affected by more important things. On the other hand, at this point, I measure my success by people enjoying what I do and, to paraphrase Seth Godin, missing me when I’ve gone quiet.

I’m thinking about the direction of this blog all of the time. I change my mind about it constantly. But what always sticks is that I want it to be fun for you and — most importantly, if I’m honest — fun for me. I’m using this to find my people, to have conversations, and make those connections. And I’m using it to find potential friends, collaborators, clients, and employers. An SEO plug-in’s suggestions won’t be much help there. I see these imposed guidelines as a detriment and I’m happy to resist. So expect the blog to get more personal, more specialized, and obtuse — my private-made-public playground. No holding back the freak flag.

Jogging House’s Lure: A Quiet Resistance

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A review of the album Lure, by hopeful ambient artist Jogging House.

There was this charming quality to a lot of ambient music in the ’90s — optimistic and melodic, far off from today’s dominating dark drones. It was a different era, and perhaps the sound reflected a rosy view of what awaited in the new millennium. But what we find in the 2010s are the hushed rushes of disconcerting noise and queasy clashing of synth lines, an ambiance of tension and uncertainty befitting our times. It makes sense — the world is an increasingly scary and debilitating place, and sometimes our music sounds like it. But optimism is resistance — it really is — and that’s what makes Jogging House’s latest album Lure so welcome, special, and quietly radical.

Jogging House — whose name is apparently a letter added to ‘jogging hose,’ AKA sweat pants — states the album is “about accepting the things we cannot change and finding comfort in uncertainty.” This philosophy is the pragmatism of the stoic, and it’s also not being paralyzed with helplessness when the world is out of control. Staying in motion and hopeful as an artist and creator rather than blocked and immobile in the face of hourly ‘breaking news’ and topical turmoil. That’s resistance.

I want to connect Jogging House to Brian Eno, but not to compare him to another composer working in the ‘ambient’ realm. Instead, I think Lure‘s songs closely reflect something Eno said in an interview: “One of the reasons one makes music or any kind of art is to create the world that you’d like to be in or the world that you would like to try. You would like to find out what that world is like.” That’s how I feel when I listen to “Tulip,” Lure‘s opening track. It’s transportive — light and playful, melodies as aspiration and reassurance that’s calm and kind. And it’s gorgeous, on the verge of sadness but not quite getting there. This is a world I’d like to try.

The album’s eight tracks share this gentle atmosphere, evoking a separate era. It’s the optimism of the past looking forward, like the mentioned-above ’90s electronic acts but also not too far from those pioneering the form in the ’70s. I’ll give in and sonically connect Eno anyway, as the beautiful “Weavings” wouldn’t be out of place on a Cluster album. Lure was recorded on 1/4″ tape, after all, using a variety of not-in-the-box gear.

But I emphasize this isn’t merely a throwback — it’s music fit for our times. These sounds are an encouragement to persevere rather than wallow; to foster hope and the imagination of something better for us all. You may ask, how can something so serene inspire action? It can, I respond. It really can.

Conny Plank: The Potential of Noise, a Son’s Tribute

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The documentary Conny Plank: The Potential Of Noise was more touching than I expected. The film is a collaboration of director Reto Caduff and Stephan Plank, Conny’s son. Stephan drives the documentary as conversations with musicians who worked with Conny Plank help him understand and rediscover his father.

Conny Plank died of cancer at 47 when Stephan was just 13. A lot of Stephan’s memories of his father revolve around these odd musicians who stayed and worked at the farmhouse studio. Often the musicians would join the family for dinner (indulgently prepared by Stephan’s mother Christa), and they would become Stephan’s temporary playmates in between sessions. So, in this documentary, Stephan is meeting people who not only have perspectives on his father but are also part of shadowy childhood memories. The musicians are also taken aback — the last time they saw Stephan he was a child and an oblivious studio mascot.

The highlight of the documentary is Stephan’s meeting with the classic rap duo Whodini. Did you remember that Conny Plank produced part of Whodini’s first album? I forgot, too, until this film pleasantly reminded me. Whodini was an upstart act in their late teens, suddenly flown to a farmhouse in rural Germany in a bold choice by their label. The duo grew to love the eccentric but brilliant Conny Plank, and this love and respect pour out of their interview segment. Stephan is visibly emotional as he hears another warm story of the universal impact and guiding influence of his father. Even I choked up a little.

Watch on YouTube

There’s so much more in this film, including interviews with Michael Rother (Neu! and — early on — Kraftwerk guitarist), Eurythmics’ Dave Stewart (who may have been the last to work with Plank), and Holger Czukay (Can). Czukay comes off as kind of a jerk in his honesty about how Conny cared more about his studio than his relationship with his young son. It seems that Stephan has come to terms with this.

Noticeably absent is Brian Eno who stepped into Plank’s studio on more than one occasion. A section on the recording of Devo’s first album allows Eno most of his screen time, and that’s given to Gerald Casale talking about how he didn’t like Eno’s attempt to add his ‘pretty’ vocals and synth lines throughout the record.

Conny Plank: The Potential Of Noise is inspiring and a stirring tribute to a person who lived the creative life. But most of all it’s the story of a son finding his talented but distant father. With Father’s Day approaching, I can’t think of a better movie to watch, especially for those of us missing our dads.

Conny Plank: The Potential Of Noise currently streaming on Amazon Prime and available as a ‘rental’ on other services. And here’s a fine interview with Stephan Plank about the documentary. For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure the no-show Stephan refers in that piece is Eno, not Bono.

Let’s Meet in Kolkata: Working With Focusmate

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The idea of Focusmate is odd, a little uncomfortable. A stranger appears on your screen, and you have a quick conversation — the expected “how do you do,” but followed by plans. What are you working on for the hour? What’s your goal? You show me yours; I’ll show you mine. My plan, that is.

It’s natural to have reservations toward Focusmate before you use it. I was suspicious when I first heard about this online productivity community. Do I want someone watching me while I work? What kind of people use this thing?

But Focusmate is brilliant. And as someone who is continually trying out new productivity apps and systems — ironically, often to the point of distraction — I can tell you that Focusmate is the most effective one I’ve used. When it comes to a list of things we’d like productivity tools to accomplish, most apps check off two or three boxes at most. Focusmate has so many layers intuitively built in — I imagine even the creator was surprised how many boxes ended up simultaneously checked.

Here’s the deal: after signing up with Focusmate you are presented with a calendar of the week. Each day gets split into hours and each hour into 15-minute increments. You will see the names of users (usually first name, last initial) claiming some of these increments. Now, you think about the time — or times — you want to get to work. If there’s a name at that time, then click on the name — that’s your work partner for the session. If there isn’t a name listed, go ahead and claim the time. Someone will match up with you. Either way, once you schedule a time, it gets added to your Google calendar.

When the time comes, log onto the site and click the ‘Launch Session’ button. A video chat room opens (courtesy of Jitsi), and you’ll meet your work partner. After trading hellos, you or your partner will ask, “What are you working on?” The answer will be an agenda for the session, as detailed and brief as possible. Then the other’s plan gets stated and, once you wish each other “good luck,” you’re off to the races.

Each session is 50 minutes long. Sometimes your partner will keep her microphone on — if she’s in a quiet spot or isn’t listening to music — and you can hear fingers tapping the keyboard and other ambient noises. You can do the same. I found this helpful — the sound of my partner working spurs me on. And, often your partner will keep a running log of what she is working on in the text chat box. “Now I’m working on clearing my email inbox” and minutes later followed by “Completed” and a short description of the next task.

I usually don’t list what I’m working on because I’m often deep in the flow state. Your experience might be different, but Focusmate gets me in a mental flow like nothing else. I find myself working straight through the 50 minutes without stopping, without distraction, and then amazed at how much I accomplished once the time is up.

When you finish a session, you check in with your work partner. How did you do? Briefly, let your partner know if you got through your agenda, or if you hit roadblocks or distractions. Regardless, getting anything done is a win, and your partner will probably congratulate you. You’ll do the same in return.

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This tool is powerful — I can’t emphasize that enough. Remember how I said Focusmate checks off many productivity boxes? Here are the ones I’ve found so far:

• Scheduling your day. Scheduling these sessions puts you in the habit of thinking ahead about your work. Though you can schedule a Focusmate session right up to the last minute, the tool is most potent when you plan out your sessions well in advance, whether it’s first thing in the morning or a day or two before. This practice adds intention and purpose to your day.

• You have to show up. I’ve tried scheduling my day on a calendar on my own, to plan my day in advance. It never worked. Though I’d have a specific task planned for, say, 10 AM, I’d usually find myself continuing to work on whatever I started at 9:45, blowing apart my agenda. Or, even worse, I wouldn’t show up at 10 — I’d keep reading through my email newsletters or continuing a long breakfast. With Focusmate, you’ve got to show up at the designated time and be ready to do your task. Someone is counting on you to be there. And, if you don’t show up, your rating suffers — your profile displays your ‘attendance score.’

• There’s accountability. Naming your task(s) for the session and then reporting progress at the finish works. Psychologically, this adds determination — especially as your goal is stated out loud and to someone — and positive reinforcement when your partner congratulates you at the end.

• Parkinson’s Law comes into play. Parkinson’s Law states that a task will often fill the time allotted to it. For example, if you think a task will take three hours to complete but your hard deadline is in one hour, sometimes — miraculously — you’ll finish that task within that hour.1However, most often the law is applied in reverse. I’ve found Focusmate to work the same. With a clock counting down and knowing that I’m checking in with my partner at the end, I find myself finishing projects that I didn’t think I’d get done in a single session.

• You get to interact with people. I work at home and can go all day (and sometimes days) without encountering another human besides my significant other. This situation isn’t healthy — at least it isn’t for me — and leads to monotony and isolation. With Focusmate, I’m meeting and speaking with multiple people daily. My days alone in the home office don’t drag on as they used to, and I look forward to each work session to find out who I’ll meet. And Focusmate’s users are interesting people from around the world — last hour I was in a session with someone working out of a library in Kolkata, and, as I write this, I’m working alongside an author in Chicago. Yesterday I worked with an ex-pat starting a business out of her new apartment in Morocco. These encounters are fascinating. And there are strict rules users must abide — no pitching, selling, or flirting, for example — and you’re encouraged to report any violations. But I have yet to meet anyone who was a hassle and wasn’t laser-focused on their task at hand.

I was super-excited about Focusmate from the first day I used it. But I’ll often be excited about a new tool and then lose my enthusiasm and stop using it a couple of weeks later. So I decided to try Focusmate for six weeks before posting about it, to make sure it stuck. I’m pleased to report that I have five sessions booked for today and am already planning out sessions for the rest of the week. I’m still an enthusiastic user, and Focusmate has become an integral part of my work day. I don’t like throwing around the phrase ‘game-changer,’ but I think I finally found a tool that qualifies.

Here’s where you expect me to recommend that you try Focusmate — which I do — and give a referral code or affiliate link. But here’s the buried lede: it’s free. There’s no fee to use Focusmate. The creator has hinted that he may look into a way to monetize it soon, perhaps by limiting how many sessions one can schedule in a week on the free plan (my guess). I actually hope he does monetize Focusmate in some way as I want to see it persist and develop. This tool has dramatically improved my workflow and given value to my work days, and I’d happily pay for that.

I write a lot about how internet companies are up to no good, commoditizing our time and attention. It’s reassuring to find an online platform that is selflessly adding true value to my day. Perhaps I’ll meet you for a work session?

P.S. Here’s the article that convinced me to give Focusmate a try:
🔗→ I Let a Stranger Watch Me Work for a Day — And I’ve Never Been More Productive

Update: This article points to another benefit of Focusmate that I didn’t mention above — that it helps reduce the effects of depression. I can happily verify this.

iTunes’ Death: Greatly Exaggerated

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Apple loves it when people talk about Apple. Conjecture and buzz about leaks leading up to an Apple event is free press coverage, free promotion, and creates attention just before something as inside-baseball as the WWDC. And the leaks are often vague and loose, allowing pundits — both professional and armchair — to argue and guess and give tons of thought-space to one of the world’s biggest corporations.

That’s what makes the aftermath of the iTunes leak so bizarre. The news wasn’t vague at all — in fact, it was refreshingly specific and unsurprising. Apple would strip iTunes of its video/TV, eBooks (why were those still in there anyway?), and podcast features to create a dedicated Music app. Just like on iOS. Even without the leak, we could see this coming.

Bloomberg was the first to report the leak. Admittedly, the expected clickbait headline reads ‘End of iTunes,’ but the piece’s content is specific:

The company is launching a trio of new apps for the Mac – Music, TV, and Podcasts – to replace iTunes. That matches Apple’s media app strategy on iPhones and iPads.

Twitter panic naturally ensued, with users thinking this meant the deletion of their years-in-progress curated playlists, the ability to rip the occasional CD, and even incompatibility with existing music file collections. Granted, Apple hasn’t exactly made iTunes better with each iteration, but it’s still not the type of company to throw its fans under the bus like that. But it’s fun to rant and worry for a minute.

And then, just as the flames needed fanning, the Los Angeles Times inexplicably publishes a news item with the headline ‘Apple will shut down iTunes, ending the download era, report says.’ The article (but not that headline) is now changed, but the original version made it clear the author was referring to the closing of the iTunes store and thus ‘the download era:’

The iTunes store is a dead service walking.

On Friday afternoon, social media erupted after Bloomberg News reported that Apple was set to announce the end of its iTunes store, which transformed the music business when it was launched in 2003.

Keep in mind, the Bloomberg article referenced doesn’t mention the download store at all.

And then, The Guardian picked up on the story with the headline ‘Apple expected to close iTunes after 18 years:’

It was once heralded as a possible saviour of the music industry in the digital age, famously annoyed fans by forcing a U2 album on them, and its 20,699-word terms and conditions have even inspired a graphic novel, but now Apple is to replace its iTunes download service.

Technically, true. The download store will likely lose its iTunes branding. However, the article (which remains unchanged at the time of this post) goes into great detail about the history of the iTunes store and paid music downloads. Also citing Bloomberg, The Guardian only mentions the actual news — the introduction of the Music app — in one sentence of the whole article.

People started losing their shit. Debates on Twitter, debates on LinkedIn, debate all over social media about what Apple’s abandonment of paid downloads means for the industry. Some artists and labels openly admitting they still made some decent cash from iTunes sales. Music fans saying they prefer to stream but would like iTunes to remain as a download option. This discussion — and its growing dissemination — was fascinating.

We’ve been down this road before. It seems like Digital Music News has an ‘unnamed source’ announcing the shuttering of iTunes once a year. And many people are openly hostile towards iTunes — usually the app, not the store — so it’s a polarizing brand name. When the news arrived, it was emotionally spread far and wide by haters and defenders.

Apple had no comment which fueled things further. But, remember — Apple loves it when people talk about Apple. Why extinguish the fire?

There’s a deeper story about the commodification of our attention. I’m not saying The Guardian and the Los Angeles Times purposefully twisted the news of the leak. My estimation is that in a rush for new content and tweet-able breaking news the original Bloomberg piece became a Rorschach test — quickly interpreted and summarized, the writers spun the leak to their wishes. And those wishes were for something dramatic like the death of paid downloads.

I don’t mean to pick on the writers. This rapid environment is the news culture we live in. It’s instant and impermanent. I can’t even imagine the constant pressure from publishers and editors. There’s nothing sexy in a story about how the only thing Apple is killing in iTunes is the name. On a similar note, I’m surprised there weren’t big stories last week on how Warner Bros. Records was killed off.

We have the power here. Chill on the up-to-the-minute hot takes and think before you retweet. Read — really read — the sources. If you’re writing about these things (and there’s not minute-by-minute pressure from a publisher or editor), follow M.G. Siegler’s lead. And maybe wait until after WWDC to comment on how everything is awful now that Apple is going to turn your MP3 collection into dust.

As for iTunes, Bloomberg was correct. Here’s Pitchfork:

A press release issued after the live announcement said that “users will have access to their entire music library, whether they downloaded the songs, purchased them, or ripped them from a CD.” So again, take a deep breath—contrary to speculation, no one’s iTunes collections were “killed” today. Further questions about keeping personal playlists and play counts intact haven’t been answered as of press time.

The press release [also] said, “For those who like to own their music, the iTunes Music Store is just a click away.” In other words, the iTunes store—which was launched two years after its namesake app and transformed the music industry by allowing the purchase of individual songs—is still very much alive.

And, in fact, iTunes lives on. Pitchfork again:

Outside of the Mac ecosystem, it’s still an iTunes world after all. “Windows users will see no changes in their experience,” an Apple rep confirmed to Pitchfork.

🔗→ Apple Plans End of iTunes, to Reveal Glimpses of Its Next Era of Apps and Devices
🔗→ What Apple’s iTunes Shutdown Means for Music Fans

The Ballad of the Blog

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Writer Alan Jacobs has some strong words for those of us still using social media:

The decision to be on Twitter (or Facebook, etc.) is not simply a personal choice. It has run-on effects for you but also for others. When you use the big social media platforms you contribute to their power and influence, and you deplete the energy and value of the open web. You make things worse for everyone. I truly believe that. Which is why I’m so obnoxiously repetitive on this point.

Jacobs’ attitude is in line with my previous thoughts on intention and the depersonalization of ‘newsfeed culture.’ The reality of supporting a corporate behemoth that’s up to no good is also something I struggle with. I’ve picked up my Twitter usage over the past few months, not decreased it, telling myself it’s a useful tool for networking. And I’m still paying for Facebook ads on my label releases. I feel like a little part of me dies every time I send a dollar to Facebook.

It’s remarkable that — though admittedly part of a tiny minority — we’re all asking these questions at the same time. And this is a conversation we need to have, whether supporting artists outside of Spotify or finding promotional and networking avenues that don’t involve Facebook. I’m not the only one to plant a flag in these issues. But I’d like the blog to talk more about how we wrestle with the tension between the independent creative community and the corporate interests propped up as gatekeepers. Music’s place in the 21st century, indeed.

Reclaiming the Intention of Fandom

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Warren Ellis has been reclaiming his physical media, sorting through collected DVDs and CDs — and sending off for new additions — in defiance of this century’s model of ephemeral, digital distribution of art. Ellis’s re-transition is occurring in public, through his fantastic newsletter — Orbital Operations — and photos appearing on his blog. There’s a touch of paranoia about treasured music becoming unavailable, whether through hard drive failures, platform redundancy, the whims of corporate interests, or technological apocalypse. It’s a calculated “withdrawal from feeds and streams,” he says, meaning the download option is considered a form of ownership. Here’s a section from today’s issue of Orbital Operations:

This is, of course, all part and parcel of my withdrawal from the feeds and streams … also, a continuing personal rejection of Music As A Service. I purchase all my downloads. And if something for sale is offered for free on a streaming site, I try to track the thing down and buy it if I love it. Sampling is fine. That’s what radio was/is for. I use YouTube and other services to sample things, and I think – I hope – it can help artists. But renting a music collection is bullshit and bad for everybody. (As is, of course, acting as if music is free like air. That only works if you don’t let all the trees die.)

(But, I reiterate, personal. Not trying to make you feel bad for streaming here. This is just what works for me, and I am well aware of my personal privilege of having an amount of disposable income for music.)

These thoughts intersect with Darren Hemmings’ piece I mentioned in a previous post, and how many of us are re-evaluating our relationships with the transitory delivery of digital art. Hemmings’ reservations mainly come from wanting to give an artist his or her due — some coin directly in the pocket — and a reasonable suspicion into the goals of a company like Spotify. These feelings also motivate Ellis, but he adds the wild card of wanting to own his music and movies and to enjoy them in a way that’s not dependent on a corporate subscription platform. In other words, something other than a platform that encourages ephemerality and distraction through endless options.

And this dovetails into my preoccupation with the societal effects of music streaming and our perception of ‘music’s place in the 21st century.’ I was a late adopter of music streaming — a casual free-tier Spotify user, the launch of Apple Music is what got me fully on board.1 Know that my late-adopter status wasn’t a Luddite-like resistance — I wasn’t listening to a lot of music in the first half of the 2010s, something I may get into at a later date. I went through multiple stages of the streaming listener: excitement at all my favorite albums at hand; discovering new albums and artists based on reviews in niche blogs; getting seduced by the fun of playlists2I temporarily switched from Apple Music to Spotify as my platform of choice during this stage.; and the realization that an obsession with playlists was turning me into a passive listener rather than an intentional one.

Passive vs. intentional is a recurring theme on this blog and it’s something I think about a lot. One effect of ‘newsfeed culture’ is it creates passivity in our consumption — what we see and hear is determined by an algorithm or a curation, a diet of someone else’s choices. This passivity isn’t always bad. When we listen to the radio, we are listening passively, and there have been times when a random radio experience changed my life. But the erosion of intentionality is a disassembling of personality. This condition can deprive us of the agency of our thoughts.

Fandom requires intention, as we decide the artists worthy of our obsession and adulation. Of course, the fan can discover a new artist through radio or a playlist, but there needs to be a push – an inner encouragement, even — to explore further. Whether by design or not, I find that playlists encourage the opposite. There’s always that new niche playlist — updated regularly! — front-and-center on the platform’s launch page, drawing attention with delightful sonic promise.

Like Hemmings and Ellis, my struggles with this brought me to Bandcamp and my personal library.3Unlike Ellis, I won’t go as far as embracing physical media. I’ve flirted closely with hoarder tendencies when I was ‘collecting,’ and I don’t want to go back there. My practice was independent of their individual screeds. Several months ago, I started building a Bandcamp collection of music for sleeping. I noticed that familiar satisfaction of purchasing a release and knowing the majority of my payment will go to the creator — a much different psychological experience than a monthly subscription payment to a DSP. And I was picky about what I was purchasing, thus committing the music to multiple listens and an attachment to memory. At first, I left these releases to play via Bandcamp but soon downloaded the lossless files, adding them to my iTunes library. More satisfaction; I was creating a walled-garden library of music that I intentionally discovered and considered top notch. Sort of like I did when I was a teenager buying record albums and arranging them in a milk crate.

And now I’m visiting Bandcamp more often than Apple Music or Spotify, and I’m purchasing more than ‘sleep music.’ Admittedly, I’m still experimenting — this whole era of digital music has been a constant experiment — and I’ll continue to document all this on the blog. But behind this post is a fascination that as all things internet have lost their luster other listeners and music fans are arriving at a similar place. There’s a questioning of music’s role among fandom and the artists that wish to cultivate fans. I feel like we’re all at a critical crossroads and I couldn’t be more excited.