A Modest Proposal: Kill Your iPod.

Yesterday I went record shopping with my friend B. He took me over to Lake View to go to Grammaphone, and then we went down to Dusty Groove. To be honest, I haven't really gone record shopping in a long time. Like in four years. I've mainly been getting my music either by researching sort of ironically obscure British pop groups that sound like the Style Counsel and buying their CDs used through Amazon for like $1.99, or by taking stuff from my friends' iTunes. At first I found the record shopping experience to be monotonous. And even when I did find something interesting, I found myself wanting to be able to consult wikipedia to make sure it was worth buying. I stood somewhat bemusedly as B. made use of one of the many beat up Technics 1200 MK2s, briefly listening to each of his potential selections--what a painstaking way to decide whether to buy something, right? How old-fashioned.

Maybe an hour into our browsing at the second record store, my attitude made a 180. As I flipped through the weathered, slightly mildewed used LPs at Dusty Groove I was overwhelmed by how many great options there were--and even more by how many of them I would have never considered listening to, how many of them I was totally unaware of. These weren't particularly obscure records; and they were of genres that I know something about. Oh, shit: I've never even heard an EPMD song. I didn't even know about this Paul Chambers album, and why did I never buy Coltrane's Lush Life in high school? Huh; I don't own any Cat Stevens records--weird. I selected three jazz LPs for which I would pay retail price, then I turned to the rather extensive bargain bin. I selected about 10 more LPs from the bargain bin--almost all of which were albums that I would have paid full price for. I was stunned. And as I thought about what happened that day, I decided that the practice of treating iTunes as my primary source of music for several years fucked me really bad. Ten years ago I was the kind of kid who would spend a total of 20 hours scouring every record shop in London just to find a Marine Girls album (true story). By the time I was in my 3L year in law school, I didn't even set up my stereo or unpack my CDs and LPs, because I assumed that the 500 or so songs on my iTunes would be enough for any scenario.

Today I spent most of the day organizing my record collection. The jazz LPs I bought yesterday had given me a little record collecting fever, and I wanted to take stock of what I had to make sure I didn't buy any duplicates. I was surprised in several ways by what I found, for instance: (1) I don't have nearly as many albums as I thought I had. I mean, not all of them are here; some of them are at my parents' house or in boxes, or whatever--but come on; I have like 40 jazz albums in my bed room. What the fuck is that? I have more Stooges albums than Cannonball Adderley albums, and I don't even like The Stooges. What's even worse is (2) I have tons of really good albums that I haven't listened to in like 7 years--or maybe not at all--apparently just because I never put any tracks from them on iTunes, and then I forgot I had them. We're talking like four star albums by my favorite musicians. Everything But the Girl, Kieth Murray and shit.

In short, iTunes has seriously fucked up the way we experience music. It's turned music into a totally ephemeral (not to mention value-less) thing that we experience in only the most compulsory way. And it's given us musical tunnel-vision, making us forget about the myriad possibilities there are, beyond what's presently available on Lime Wire. Today it dawned on me in a new way exactly how rewarding it is to stand by that old 1200 MK2 spinning a slightly scratchy LP; how human it is to be able to hold that LP, write your name on the slip cover with a Sharpie next to the name of the person who owned it before you; how rich of an experience it is to listen to a song in the context of the album it was written for, rather than in the white, iTunes vacuum. If this is starting to make any sense to you, I implore you, go to a bargain bin and buy whatever Peter Paul and Mary LP you can find for 50 cents, listen to it popping on your record player, and think about how decades ago people enjoyed music in a way you haven't in years. It's going to sound so much better than your iPod shuffle.