Where have they gone?
A couple of months ago, with national bustle and infinite online discourse, Spotify Wrapped was released. Digitally gift-wrapped and brightly animated, the annual showcase of our most loved and listened-to music hit the streaming service, giving all users their long-awaited dopamine rush. I wasn’t so pleased.
The infinite broad-chested boasting of ‘minutes listened’ and ‘top listener’ statistics gave a bad taste to such a supposed “celebration”. And what of the music? Does every Wrapped need to contain the same top 5 or 10 artists? Is “Espresso” really that good of a song?
But besides the peeves I hold for the annual cultural holiday, the event brewed a nagging inquiry in my conscience; What happens when we have children? Or more, how does our musical and artistic taste transition into the hands of future generations? Can I leave my Spotify playlists or HBO subscription in my will? This is of course an absurd thought, but does raise legitimate questions as to the future of our musical and cultural heirlooms.
With the death of the DVD, CD, and Blu-Ray, our future children can no longer be left with an array of art and music their parents had loved and left to them. Instead, they scour their memory in an attempt to remember the Hulu password. This not only affects our legacies, but also insists itself onto our current consumption.
Through the digitization of our favorite products (music, art, entertainment) we are given a much more diverse and efficient way of consuming, yes, but also a much more surface-level understanding of the art we are attempting to identify with and enjoy. That snippet of a song, or that one great musical bridge may sound great in an edit or TikTok video, but how much do you leave to be ignored and decontextualized with the rest of the album? A lot. And with the ease of being able to skip to our favorite parts of a song, that original vision the artist thrust out into the world is not given the full service and respect it deserves.
We not only stop ourselves from discovering new songs we love, but we also leave all the power in the hands of the website or service we are “borrowing” from. While in the 90’s or 2000’s, owning or renting a movie was common, this is no longer the case. With physical media, you are able to own and use that product as long and as much as you want – all you need to pay for is the actual physical product once. Now, you no longer pay for an individual product or piece of art, you rather pay for an opportunity (in the form of a monthly subscription) for your favorite movies to appear on a service. And when a particular movie or album is not on one of the many services which you pay for, paying a rental or a physical fee on top of the price already paid for a subscription could seem excessive. I have a proposition to fix this: cancel your subscriptions and regain control. Your favorite Tarantino movie or album could disappear overnight from streaming services but if you buy it you will have full ownership, leaving your Friday movie night or your moody Valentine’s Day album rotation undisturbed.
The current resurgence of vinyl gives me some hope for the future of our physical ownership, but I urge anyone who loves art to BUY ART. Support the creators and keep the entertainment you love without interruption: it not only delivers a unique experience to your consumption of media, but also allows the generation following you to discover the greatness that you appreciated in your time. Your kids will thank you.