Is Collecting Vinyl Pretentious?

Last week Katie Edwards of the Independent had a little fun with a provocative essay on how pointless ownings records is. She writes from the viewpoint of a fed-up wife whose vinyl-collecting husband has taken over a third of her dining room. To which I say, “Hey, at least it’s not half.”

But seriously, I think Edwards was writing partly for the thrill of poking the bear, knowing that geeky audiophiles would blow a gasket, because midway through her essay she actually answers her own question of why people purchase vinyl. She writes, “Perhaps it’s the experience of vinyl that’s the clincher? The same way I like to hold a physical copy of a book and turn actual pages rather than read an electronic version.”

I can’t speak for all vinyl collectors, but for me, that’s it, exactly. I’ve never bought into the claim that vinyl sounds better than other formats. I’ve also never owned records that I’m reluctant to play – as Edwards’s husband apparently is – for fear that they’ll get damaged. And I don’t eschew streaming music; according to Spotify, I streamed over 139 hours of music in 2021, 55% more than the average Spotify listener.

But streaming doesn’t just make music portable, it also makes it disposable. I’ve invested nothing into downloading the latest Sammy Rae EP (but you should do so – she’s amazing!). Not money. Not time. Not changing the dial on the radio. Worse, I don’t know who plays on her album, who produced it, where it was recorded or who wrote the songs. Her songs exist in the ether, as if they just appeared one day through no effort of gifted musicians. Vinyl and other physical formats force the listener to reckon with the music, to establish a relationship with it, and to devote physical space to it.

Katie Edwards concedes all of this, but then wonders if the real reason people buy vinyl is to flaunt their tastes over those whose musical knowledge they consider pedestrian. Edwards writes, “Having a showy collection of vinyl – that owners have to pull out and parade in front of uninterested guests stifling yawns – is a display of pretentiousness that turns me right off.”  She also writes, “ I just can’t be bothered with the inevitable scoffing by self-described music buffs who consider themselves authorities on taste just because they’ve got a couple of obscure LPs.”

Okay, I cry bullshit here. If she actually has friends who’ve scoffed at her musical tastes, then she needs to find new friends. More likely, I think Edwards is writing to provocate (as she apparently did me!). Either that or she’s projecting her own insecurities on her music-loving friends, the same way any insecure person might do to describe any other human endeavor.

For example, I have a friend who has a very impressive wine cellar in his basement and likes to present good bottles of wine for gatherings. I don’t really know anything about wine except that I like to drink it. Now, I could be intimidated by this and accuse my friend of arrogance, but really – I just think it’s cool. He’s into something I’m not into. I have no aspirations of becoming a wine aficionado, but I’m glad he is, and I’m happy to ask a few questions so that he can share his enthusiasm with me. The next time he comes over to my house, I will have no problems opening up a $12 bottle of cabernet. I don’t think he’ll judge me for it. I think he’ll ask for a glass.

Similarly, Edwards should have no problem streaming the Heart song “Alone” for her friends, as she claims she’s reluctant to do. If they truly look down on her as a result, then shame on them.

But methinks she doth protest too much. She must know that “Alone” blows.

Ha, I actually like that song. Two can play this provocation game!

Screens, Streams and Creativity

In my last post I posed the question, “Is creativity in jeopardy of diminishing or dying altogether?”  It was inspired by Amy Nicholson’s comments on the Raiders of the Lost Ark episode of Unspooled, a podcast devoted to discussing the AFI’s top 100 American films of all-time.  She remarked, “I feel like something in us is just stuck because we’re not using our imaginations anymore, we’re just hitting rewind.”

While few would claim that there aren’t still amazingly creative things happening in the arts, if recent successful films are any indication Amy’s observation isn’t entirely unwarranted.  One need look no further than Disney’s recent output to conclude that original content isn’t always a major priority of film studios.  According to film critic William Bibbiani of @WilliamBibbiani, “35 of the top 50 films domestically (in 2019) were sequels, remakes, reboots, spinoffs or other films based on pre-existing blockbuster multimedia franchises.” 

That’s a staggering statistic.  Gone are the days when the most celebrated films were also the most-watched (think Forrest Gump, Silence of the Lambs, Rain Man, etc.).  Broadway has also fallen into the reboot trap.  I wrote about this seven years ago, and its sorry state certainly hasn’t improved in the ensuing years (think Mean Girls, Frozen, Moulin Rouge, Shrek, Tootsie, Dirty Dancing, and on and on…)

So why the devotion to reboots?  For film, the obvious game-changer has been streaming, which has dropped the average theatrical run to only four weeks.  Given this, it’s no wonder that studios are devoting fewer funds to riskier ventures.  But just when you think that all is lost, you hear the flip side of the same coin.  Yes, streaming may have shortened theatrical runs which has directly led to studios relying on well-established franchises, but it’s also opened up a world that heretofore was difficult to enter. 

Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio recently appeared on Marc Maron’s podcast, WTF, and they both discussed how as producers they are being given the green light to make films that wouldn’t have gotten financed years ago.  Streaming services are now making smaller films viable options (to hear this particular segment of the interview, go to the one-hour mark, though the whole interview is worth a listen). DiCaprio goes on to say that in the past these films would have to win an Academy Award to get any viewership at all, but now “millions and millions of people watch these documentaries as opposed to having to go through a theatrical system.”

Isn’t this exciting? 

And from my limited experience DiCaprio is correct.  I’ve watched more documentaries in the last ten years than in the previous forty years combined, and more and more of my friends are recommending documentaries, small films, and of course dozens and dozens of TV shows (some of them even worth watching).  Add to this the accessibility of short films that would never have been viewable prior to the Age of Streaming, and we’ve got so much wonderful output right at our fingertips, no one will ever be able to check the box that says, “All caught up.”

So it’s not all doom and gloom.  Creativity is alive and well, but like much of art these days, it may be fragmented.  You may not be hearing about a film or a book or a TV show by viewing the best-seller or highest-grossing lists, but with a little word-of-mouth and targeted searches you can find the original content that appears to be lacking in mainstream theaters.  I would argue that even theatrical runs have shown signs of life recently.  I’ve watched eight out of the nine Best Picture nominees and there’s not a dud among them.  2019 may be one of the best years of film in recently memory.  And it’s very likely that films like Roma and The Irishman, both of which appeared in theaters just long enough to qualify for the Oscars, have done far better with the new business model than they would have with the old one.

Yes, things are changing.  I imagine Walt Disney himself would be disappointed in his company if he were alive today.  But others are taking that creative torch and carrying it boldly in this century. Some things may be lost along the way, but creativity and human originality won’t be among them.