analog boy, digital world
Jul. 13th, 2025 10:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
f0rrestWe live in a digital, on-demand world in which literally all media is available at our fingertips, whenever and wherever we want. We’re always online, all the time. We click the links and swipe the phones and talk into our little WiFi-connected devices, “Hey Google, play ‘Lo Boob Oscillator’ by Stereolab,” and the machine obliges us, providing whatever the hell we want, as long as we pay our monthly tributes, which are increasing month to month at crazy, exponential rates.
But the question is, with so much access to all this stuff, do we really appreciate any of it?
I don't mean, like, “oh, this new single on Spotify is pretty good, on to the next one,” or “I can't wait to binge this new show on Netflix, then totally forget about it in a week,” or “I downloaded every Super Nintendo game ever made from CoolRom.com, and now I play them for a few minutes on my phone before switching to the next one.” I mean, instead, like, becoming so obsessed with The Strokes’ Is This It that you memorize the lyrics of each song because it’s one of the few albums you actually own, or watching Cowboy Bebop on DVD so much that it becomes like a core part of your essence, or spending months playing Final Fantasy VIII that, sometimes, when no one is around, you pretend that you're Squall Leonhart casting Meltdown or something.
All this might seem oddly specific, but it has a point. What I'm trying to get at is, I haven't been absorbed in a piece of media in, like, forever. And I think that, maybe, it's because there's just way too much media available now, so much so that all of it has become like junk food, momentarily pleasing but lacking any real, long-term value whatsoever. I used to become emotionally invested in the things I like, now it’s as if I’m constantly on the prowl for something to become emotionally invested in, but never quite getting there. It feels as if I’ve bartered my soul for convenience, and now the media overload, combined with my inherent attention deficit, wreaks havoc on my brain, and I just can’t focus on anything at all anymore.
That's why, a few months ago, I went analog. I bought a Walkman, an old Sony stereo, and I started collecting cassettes.
Well, that’s not the only reason I started collecting cassettes, if I’m being honest. Initially, it started like all these things do, to be cool, because I’m low-key kind of an insufferable hipster, contrarian to the core. I wanted to buck modern trends. I wanted to be different. I thought it would be cool to listen to music on cassette, like I was back in the ‘80s or something. But, lo and behold, through my insufferable contrarianism, I quickly found that, with cassettes, I’m pretty much forced to pay attention to the music I listen to now. So I guess being contrary all the time has its benefits, sometimes.
Before cassettes, I had been listening to a minute or two of my favorite songs on Spotify before being almost demonically compelled to swipe to something else, and I would do that constantly, hardly ever listening to music in full, let alone entire albums. It’s crazy how an artist can spend weeks, months, writing and recording a song, only for it to be consumed then forgotten about in minutes. It’s almost disrespectful, in a way. But now, with cassettes, I’m forced to pay attention. I have to put real effort into picking out music, and when I want to find new music, I have to actively research artists similar to the ones I already like, usually on allmusic.com, then I have to purchase the tape from a record store or order it online and wait for it to be delivered, and then, to actually listen to the tape, I have to go into my drawer with all my tapes, take out the one I want to play, put it into a mechanical device that uses literal belts, rewind the thing, and then hit play, and if I want to go back to a certain song, I have to put in real, physical effort to get up, go to the tape player, rewind the tape to just the right spot, which takes some trial and error, and then hit play again, and because I have a limited collection of cassettes, and acquiring new ones takes time, I’m forced to spend a week or two with each new cassette I purchase, which has, in turn, forced me to appreciate the music far more than I used to.
This whole cassette-tape ritual requires serious deliberation and real effort, whereas online music services require none of that stuff. In fact, online music services seem designed in such a way as to deliberately encourage users to shuffle around as much as possible, to facilitate clicks, which in turn generates revenue, and the end user gets nothing out of it except barely remembered songs and this uncanny feeling that something is missing, like if you just click around a little bit more, you might find something that hits immediately and consumes you, like it used to back in the day, but that never happens, and all the while, Spotify is making bank, paying the musicians barely anything. It’s diabolical, almost, it really is.
And yes, there is an element of materialism to collecting a bunch of plastic tapes and hoarding them in a case or drawer or whatever, but that’s kind of unavoidable, and not really the point. In this instance, it’s not actually materialism at all, it’s humanism and borderline asceticism. It’s about depriving yourself of everything-all-at-once and, instead, focusing only on the things you truly care about, and cassettes pretty much force this on you, which is why they’re such a powerful medium.
This wasn’t intended to be a rant against the online music industry, it was actually intended to be more of a public service announcement. A shout into the digital void, if you will, to let you know that, if you ever feel like something is missing, like you’re just clicking around aimlessly, totally lacking focus, emotionally detached from the things you once cared about, then maybe it’s time to disconnect, maybe it’s time you thought about getting into cassettes.
Maybe it's time to become an analog boy, or girl, or whatever, in a digital world.
Anyway, here's a list of all the cassettes I've collected thus far, in order of being acquired.
Ten Summoner’s Tales, by Sting
Romantic Warrior, by Return to Forever
Bewitched, by Andy Summers + Robert Fripp
Daydream Nation, by Sonic Youth
Disintegration, by The Cure
The Head on the Door, by The Cure
The Top, by The Cure
Standing on the Beach, by The Cure
Meat is Murder, by The Smiths
Aja, by Steely Dan
The Colour of Spring, by Talk Talk
It's My Life, by Talk Talk
Synchronicity, by The Police
Zenyatta Mondatta, by The Police
The Future of What, by Unwound
Queen Elvis, by Robyn Hitchcock & the Egyptians
Purple Rain, by Prince
Around the World in a Day, by Prince
Like a Prayer, by Madonna
The Early Years, by Steely Dan
Heyday, by The Church
University, by Throwing Muses
Weekend in Monaco, by The Rippingtons
Welcome to the St. James’ Club, by The Rippingtons
Swagger, by The Blue Aeroplanes
Favourite Piano Works, by Chopin
This is the Sea, by The Waterboys
99.9f, by Suzanne Vega
Bona Drag, by Morrissey
Blue, by Joni Mitchell
The Hissing of Summer Lawns, by Joni Mitchell
Rio, by Duran Duran
But the question is, with so much access to all this stuff, do we really appreciate any of it?
I don't mean, like, “oh, this new single on Spotify is pretty good, on to the next one,” or “I can't wait to binge this new show on Netflix, then totally forget about it in a week,” or “I downloaded every Super Nintendo game ever made from CoolRom.com, and now I play them for a few minutes on my phone before switching to the next one.” I mean, instead, like, becoming so obsessed with The Strokes’ Is This It that you memorize the lyrics of each song because it’s one of the few albums you actually own, or watching Cowboy Bebop on DVD so much that it becomes like a core part of your essence, or spending months playing Final Fantasy VIII that, sometimes, when no one is around, you pretend that you're Squall Leonhart casting Meltdown or something.
All this might seem oddly specific, but it has a point. What I'm trying to get at is, I haven't been absorbed in a piece of media in, like, forever. And I think that, maybe, it's because there's just way too much media available now, so much so that all of it has become like junk food, momentarily pleasing but lacking any real, long-term value whatsoever. I used to become emotionally invested in the things I like, now it’s as if I’m constantly on the prowl for something to become emotionally invested in, but never quite getting there. It feels as if I’ve bartered my soul for convenience, and now the media overload, combined with my inherent attention deficit, wreaks havoc on my brain, and I just can’t focus on anything at all anymore.
That's why, a few months ago, I went analog. I bought a Walkman, an old Sony stereo, and I started collecting cassettes.
Well, that’s not the only reason I started collecting cassettes, if I’m being honest. Initially, it started like all these things do, to be cool, because I’m low-key kind of an insufferable hipster, contrarian to the core. I wanted to buck modern trends. I wanted to be different. I thought it would be cool to listen to music on cassette, like I was back in the ‘80s or something. But, lo and behold, through my insufferable contrarianism, I quickly found that, with cassettes, I’m pretty much forced to pay attention to the music I listen to now. So I guess being contrary all the time has its benefits, sometimes.
Before cassettes, I had been listening to a minute or two of my favorite songs on Spotify before being almost demonically compelled to swipe to something else, and I would do that constantly, hardly ever listening to music in full, let alone entire albums. It’s crazy how an artist can spend weeks, months, writing and recording a song, only for it to be consumed then forgotten about in minutes. It’s almost disrespectful, in a way. But now, with cassettes, I’m forced to pay attention. I have to put real effort into picking out music, and when I want to find new music, I have to actively research artists similar to the ones I already like, usually on allmusic.com, then I have to purchase the tape from a record store or order it online and wait for it to be delivered, and then, to actually listen to the tape, I have to go into my drawer with all my tapes, take out the one I want to play, put it into a mechanical device that uses literal belts, rewind the thing, and then hit play, and if I want to go back to a certain song, I have to put in real, physical effort to get up, go to the tape player, rewind the tape to just the right spot, which takes some trial and error, and then hit play again, and because I have a limited collection of cassettes, and acquiring new ones takes time, I’m forced to spend a week or two with each new cassette I purchase, which has, in turn, forced me to appreciate the music far more than I used to.
This whole cassette-tape ritual requires serious deliberation and real effort, whereas online music services require none of that stuff. In fact, online music services seem designed in such a way as to deliberately encourage users to shuffle around as much as possible, to facilitate clicks, which in turn generates revenue, and the end user gets nothing out of it except barely remembered songs and this uncanny feeling that something is missing, like if you just click around a little bit more, you might find something that hits immediately and consumes you, like it used to back in the day, but that never happens, and all the while, Spotify is making bank, paying the musicians barely anything. It’s diabolical, almost, it really is.
And yes, there is an element of materialism to collecting a bunch of plastic tapes and hoarding them in a case or drawer or whatever, but that’s kind of unavoidable, and not really the point. In this instance, it’s not actually materialism at all, it’s humanism and borderline asceticism. It’s about depriving yourself of everything-all-at-once and, instead, focusing only on the things you truly care about, and cassettes pretty much force this on you, which is why they’re such a powerful medium.
This wasn’t intended to be a rant against the online music industry, it was actually intended to be more of a public service announcement. A shout into the digital void, if you will, to let you know that, if you ever feel like something is missing, like you’re just clicking around aimlessly, totally lacking focus, emotionally detached from the things you once cared about, then maybe it’s time to disconnect, maybe it’s time you thought about getting into cassettes.
Maybe it's time to become an analog boy, or girl, or whatever, in a digital world.
Anyway, here's a list of all the cassettes I've collected thus far, in order of being acquired.
Ten Summoner’s Tales, by Sting
Romantic Warrior, by Return to Forever
Bewitched, by Andy Summers + Robert Fripp
Daydream Nation, by Sonic Youth
Disintegration, by The Cure
The Head on the Door, by The Cure
The Top, by The Cure
Standing on the Beach, by The Cure
Meat is Murder, by The Smiths
Aja, by Steely Dan
The Colour of Spring, by Talk Talk
It's My Life, by Talk Talk
Synchronicity, by The Police
Zenyatta Mondatta, by The Police
The Future of What, by Unwound
Queen Elvis, by Robyn Hitchcock & the Egyptians
Purple Rain, by Prince
Around the World in a Day, by Prince
Like a Prayer, by Madonna
The Early Years, by Steely Dan
Heyday, by The Church
University, by Throwing Muses
Weekend in Monaco, by The Rippingtons
Welcome to the St. James’ Club, by The Rippingtons
Swagger, by The Blue Aeroplanes
Favourite Piano Works, by Chopin
This is the Sea, by The Waterboys
99.9f, by Suzanne Vega
Bona Drag, by Morrissey
Blue, by Joni Mitchell
The Hissing of Summer Lawns, by Joni Mitchell
Rio, by Duran Duran
