(Working Title) Risk-Free Music

Yesterday afternoon, a co-worker posted this blog entry from Nick Carr to his Facebook page. The moral of the story, as Carr tells is, is that the accessibility of music and the abundance of it have flattened the experience of it: Music isn't as magical as it used to be; discovery isn't as powerful.

Toward the end of the blog post, Carr references a comment from John Taylor (the drummer of Duran Duran, and the author of an article that inspired Carr's blog post) that tracking down an album used to be a quest of sorts, and, "as with all quests, there were risks involved." I guess he's talking about the risk of wasting your time and energy biking 10 miles to the nearest record shop and blowing 10 bucks on something that sucks? But that's hardly the stuff of great adventure, you know? Those aren't the kinds of risks that are going to heighten dramatically the intensity of an experience; they are the kinds of risks, though, that will keep you from discovering something that might be great.

Because, do you remember how difficult it used to be to discover something new and awesome? Unless a band made it big, it was usually a matter of luck. Contrary to popular belief, my favorite band is not Bon Jovi; it's The Tragically Hip, and the only reason I know about them is because in 1999, I dated a Canadian guy named Scott who loved them, and I loved him, so I attempted to love everything he loved in a youthful misinterpretation of what it means to love someone. (Fortunately for me, Scott had good taste.) My favorite band to see live, meanwhile, is Great Big Sea, and the only reason I know about them is because they opened for The Tragically Hip at a free show they played in Central Park on Canada Day in 2000. Those two bands have brought me so much happiness over the last decade, but I'd probably never had learned about either of them if I hadn't met Scott.

But then you have these days: I had the most intense music experience of my entire life at a concert I attended this past summer: Dave Rawlings' guitar solo during his cover of Bob Dylan's song Queen Jane Approximately during The Big Surprise Tour's stop at Beacon Theatre. I went to this concert because I wanted to see Gillian Welch, who was going to accompany Dave Rawlings at the show. And I'd started listening to Gillian Welch because I'd heard a band called The Great Atomic Power cover some of her songs. The Great Atomic Power was nothing more than a temporary gathering of some musicians in Toronto to play a charity gig (and then a few gigs stemmed from that), but someone recorded one of their shows and posted it to archive.org. I heard the show because two of the musicians in The Great Atomic Power used to play together in Moxy Fruvous (In case you've been living under a rock and haven't heard, I'm a little obsessed.), so the show turned up when I searched for Fruvous shows on archive.org.

Now, there are two things about this story which speak to why the way we experience music today is kind of awesome:

- First, I never would have had that experience if I couldn't listen to music risk-free. I might have heard that Great Atomic Power show because fans have been taping and sharing shows for ages, but I never would have gone out and purchased one of Gillian Welch's CDs to see if her versions of her own songs were as great as the ones The Great Atomic Power played. I was curious enough to fire up my Napster-to-Go membership and listen to her music, but I wasn't curious enough to blow 10 bucks on the endeavor. "Those are the kinds of risks that keep you from discovering something that might be great." (And in an old-school-style discovery, Justin Townes Earle was the opening act at that Dave Rawlings performance. Even if you just sort of know me, you've probably heard me talk about that guy. Just an incredibly gifted songwriter and one damn charismatic showman.)

- Second, it wasn't walking to Samsondale Music or begging my Mom to take me to the Mall (my version of John Taylor's 10-mile bike ride), but the road to that concert was still a journey, and it was fun! A couple weeks ago, I spent an entire Saturday afternoon reading Bob Hallett's blog about music, searching the internet for the songs he described, and listening to them. I listened to probably 50 songs that day; some I liked, some not so much, but all were interesting to listen to, especially through the lens Bob laid over them, and the whole process was just plain fun. It was geeky and researcher-y and more or less right up my alley in those respects; and one of the bands I heard that day -- The Decemberists -- is the most exciting and interesting band I've heard in years. I've devoured their music over the last several weeks, and I cannot wait until the next time they are in New York City.

And how fucking awesome is it that I can link right to all these amazing discoveries I've made so anyone whose interest is piqued can watch and listen for themselves to see if the things that speak to me speak to them, too? Unless you are young and hopelessly in love with me, you probably won't pedal your way to the record shop to see if you feel the same way about Justin Townes Earle that I do, but you might click on the link in my post to see what you think. And it's fun to share! At least, if you're me, it's really fucking fun to share! I don't sort-of like things. I don't bother. I like things a lot, and I dislike things a lot, and everything in between doesn't really exist. So when I find something I like, I'm compelled to tell other people about it. I want to share it with them, and I love that I can. I don't know if you'll listen, but I hope you will. I don't think you'll like everything, but there might be one thing in here that you think is awesome, and you'll see (if your faith has at all been shaken) that music is just as magical as it always was; the power of discovery is just as great.