This is not a post on Big Brother or algorithms or privacy at all. Others can do that much better than me – there’s probably a terrific Netflix documentary on it.
This is, instead, a post on Amazon Prime Music Unlimited. One of my very best friends (after judging me too harshly for still buying full albums, CDs and CD players, and using my iPod) eloquently put it like this: “For almost half the price of 1 album, you can get them all,” and that made sense. Also, we already have Prime, so I do have access to a huge untapped library. Untapped no longer!!! And as I was diving into this pool, I realized I had a promotional coupon for 3 months of Unlimited free. So now I have Unlimited.
Today, I listened to the Red Hot Chili Peppers – Getaway (which is nowhere near as awesome as Blood Sugar Sex Magik and nowhere near as horrible as you’ve heard) and now I’m listening to Acoustic Volume 2 from Bayside; 2 albums I hadn’t bought earlier, for different reasons.
Yesterday I listened to the Strumbellas and a series of singles that I like a little or a lot and a playlist they deem “for Me.” (Maybe this is about algorithms, because it was pretty much For Me, even though they have only known me for a few days.)
Like everything, there is a cost. Not the $7 or 8 or 11 (for the family plan) or whatever, my buddy was totally right. It makes great financial sense, if you are a music lover. But if you are a music lover, you’ll have to give up something valuable to get it, namely, the love.
Every time I go to the app, I want to dive into the unreasonably deep waters of infinity – I will never exhaust all of my choices. It’s simply impossible, there aren’t enough hours. I’d have to live to 5,000 years old.
When I bought Blood Sugar Sex Magik in 1991, I listened to it on repeat for months and months. I laid in my bed with the liner notes and lyrics, bought the VHS (!!!) making of and listened to bass lines and interesting noises and genres. They’re an interesting band, man. I can still sing along word for word to that album at any time. I have no idea if I’ll ever listen to The Getaway again. Maybe I’ll drop a song or 2 on a playlist.
I love bands and the people in them, their instruments, hometowns and side projects. I care deeply about the albums and the stories behind them. It matters to me who wrote the songs and why. I even care about record labels and producers.
Those days are gone for me, I fear. There’s simply too much. You know, in the Bible, there are kings that have thousands of women for their pleasure. They probably didn’t know their names, favorite colors, or dreams for the future – and if you ask me, that’s the best part. Probably the most interesting part of a sexual experience is the soul connection, the knowing of another human being. The lyrics and the liner notes, not just the chorus (even if the chorus is the best chorus ever).
I now have thousands of partners. Variety is nice, I suppose. Now I’m listening to the Arctic Monkeys – Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not, and it really is amazing. If you haven’t heard it yet, you should go now. And I might not have ever listened to it. In fact, it’s the 4th or 5th time I’ve played it.
So, maybe it’s not as dire a situation as I think. But I don’t know who the bass player is, and I really like to know who the bass player is.