Music in a cynical age

I read an article in today’s Guardian newspaper that suggested that Cynicism kicks in when you turn 44. I was cynical about the article to be honest because I don’t believe that everyone is the same. The world would be an even more boring place if they were. But I did start to get cynical myself around that age. I stopped watching reality TV as I recognised that it was an evil attack on my self-esteem by making me doubt my ability to cook or decorate a house. I cut back on watching sport as it became clear to me that results were decided by corrupt referees who always seemed to be in the pay of teams that my teams were playing against.

But the biggest change came about in my appreciation of music. I don’t buy much music these days, mainly because it’s actually hard to find a physical music store in the modern world. Itunes has taken over and I’m cynical about that too. When I started buying music, part of the enjoyment was the look, feel and smell of the packaging. My first purchases were back in the vinyl days, when records would come in gloriously decorated covers. Meat Loaf’s “Bat out of Hell” is one fond example and if truth be known, my only access to artwork in my teenage years came through this medium. Those record covers had a smooth feel to them and the smell was unique and made you think of happy times. You also had to pay special care to the vinyl when placing it on your turntable. This made you appreciate the music more. Nobody ever put a vinyl record on a turntable and then instantly forgot about it as we do in this multi-media disposable age.

I was disappointed when music changed to a digital format. The quality was better, but static was part of my childhood and I’m somewhat hardwired to believe that music is supposed to be played with a faint crackling sound in the background. And as with many developments in the technology space, the promise rarely lives up to reality. I was hoodwinked into replacing all my vinyl recordings with CDs on the grounds that the digital format was indestructible. I now see ‘disk error” more often than I ever had a record that skipped.

But at least CD’s came with the same artwork, albeit on a smaller scale and they included a handy booklet with lyrics and details of writers and backing singers. I’ve always been a nerd when it came to music and the first thing I’d do when I bought a new CD was to pull out the lyrics booklet and marvel at the rhyming couplets within. I was also tickled when I’d find one of my favourite singers doing backing vocals on another album, as though this had validated my choice.

Music downloaded from Itunes gives you none of this look, feel or smell. It is a sensory desert, with allowance given only to sound. Even this is not as good as it was in the old days. Back then people would pay more for their speakers than they would for the turntable. Woofers and surround sound were the buzz phrases in the 1980’s music loving fraternity. The modern music world has made a lot of noise about the improved quality of digital music, but most of it is played through tinny speakers at the back of laptops or on low quality headphones attached to smart phones. Kids today will never experience the pleasure of turning the volume button up to 11 and having the two metre tall speakers shake the foundations of their house.

I still like to buy real music in a package that I can feel and smell. The only problem is I’ve become like my Dad and think that all modern music is rubbish. I don’t think I’ve bought any new music since 2003. My only purchases in the past ten years have been of old music, originally recorded in the 1960s or 1970s. I’m ashamed to say that I frequent a shop called “Dirt Cheap CDs” in Melbourne that specialises in ten dollar specials, most of which are compilations.

There was a time when I’d sneer at compilations. My friends and I would put the characters in “High Fidelity” to shame with our devotion to concept albums and the early works of English folk artists. I remember one night in the pub when we were asked to name our top three albums. We tried to out-do each other with the obscureness of our choices, apart from one mate who declared that his favourite albums were “Queen’s Greatest Hits” and “Now That’s What I Call Music volume 37 and 38”. We scoffed at his lack of sophistication.

Now “Queen’s Greatest Hits” is exactly the sort of thing I look for in Dirt Cheap CDs. But I wonder how long that emporium of bargain music will be around because record stores are becoming as rare as hen’s teeth.

When I was back in Ireland in June, I went searching for some diddly eye Irish sounds.

I was unable to buy anything however as my go to record shop has gone out of business. Without realising it, I was a HMV devotee and bought all my music and DVD box sets from their shops in Dundalk and on Grafton St in Dublin. They have fallen victim to the global financial crisis and the growth of online purchasing. This has left my home town without a record shop at all, as HMV voraciously gobbled up all the independent players years ago. And while there must be other places in Dublin to buy music, it was beyond my investigative skills to find one.

This in hindsight is a good thing because I’d probably be listening to Phil Collins now or some other attack on good taste.

But in fairness to Phil, maybe I’m just being cynical.