Convenience isn't everything
Remember in the movie Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, when Violet Beauregarde got turned into a giant blueberry? That happened because she chewed an experimental (and, as it turned out, dangerously flawed) stick of gum, which provided the complete taste experience and full nutritional value of eating a three course meal, specifically a roast beef dinner.
Imagine what it would be like if that gum actually existed (and didn’t turn people into giant blueberries). You could carry it around in your pocket, instantly available for you to enjoy at any time, anywhere. Compared to cooking a meal, it would be vastly easier and more convenient. People would love it. Everybody would buy that gum and bring it with them all the time.
But even in a world where such gum was widely available, people would still enjoy cooking their own roast beef dinners, at least occasionally. Preparing and eating a meal is a unique experience, involving more than just the sense of taste. And it’s a social experience: while only the gum-chewer would know what meal they were having, everybody present experiences the sights, sounds, and smells of a home cooked meal, and the feel of cutting into a plate full of food.
You can see where I’m going with this. An iPod full of thousands of songs is amazing. It makes listening to music easier and more convenient than ever before. I love my mp3 collection, and I even record my vinyl records to mp3. But in a way, the prevalence of digital music just makes me appreciate listening to vinyl all the more.
Music on vinyl is something you experience it with all your senses. You pull the record off the shelf, catching a whiff of the cardboard sleeves. You slide the record out, balancing it between your fingertips, and place it on your turntable. The turntable starts and you sense the weight of the metal platter. You drop the needle and it makes that same sound you’ve heard so many times before, and like Pavlov’s bell it triggers a sense of anticipation. And then the music plays and you listen, usually with the music pouring out of the stereo speakers, but even if you’re listening on headphones everybody else in the room can watch the record spin and hear the faint acoustic sound of the music playing, and they know what you’re listening to. That’s the full music listening experience, and that’s why I’ll always love vinyl, no matter how small, inexpensive, and convenient digital music becomes.
(Thanks to Luke for his terrific metaphor of CDs as suburbia, which got me thinking about this.)
