As a teenager (and well into my twenties), I remember setting my alarm an hour early so I could be the first in line to buy So and So’s lastest album. I’d rip into the cellophane with my teeth, curse that ridiculously sticky strip keeping me from my music and rejoice when the first note killed the deafening silence in my 1987 Toyota Celica. I’d sit in my car and devour the lyrics and liner notes. Every single word felt as though it had been written just for me; to satisfy my never ending need for melodies and powerful lyrics.
A little more than a decade later and that feeling is all but a distant memory. Now, I barely keep up with release dates and find myself less and less excited about new music. I have my gold standards that I keep going back to. The same beats soothe my soul and the same lyrics speak to my heart. Nothing new has inspired me. Is this because the music from 10-15 years ago was that much better? Unlikely. Sure one could argue about commercialization and pop stars; but that’s been an ongoing argument that started long before I was born. For someone who pays more attention to the lyrics than the music composition or the melody, not much has changed. Lyrics still rhyme (often unnecessarily, but that’s nothing new) and metaphors still stir something deep down. But, the spark is gone. Okay, maybe gone is the wrong word … maybe I should say it has subdued.
Until recently it never occurred to me that the way I consume music may be one of the causes. I don’t set early alarms or countdown to release dates. Instead, I flip through the radio searching for inspiring songs. Then, I download them from iTunes or look them up on Spotify. Once in a while, I’ll check out the whole album, but mostly I just take a bite of the appetizer and skip straight for dessert. I miss all the little gems in between. I have become what I swore I never would become … a one-hit wonderer. I devour singles and toss the albums without ever even listening to the “filler” songs. The songs the artists fought to have included but the label refused to release on the airwaves.
The ease in which I can consume single morsels of music has made it too convenient and easy to stick to my ways. Sure I can buy an album on iTunes, but it’s not the same. Reading liner notes through a PDF doesn’t elicit the same emotion or effect of holding the booklet in your hand. The fresh ink and paper have their own unique smell – I miss that smell. I miss the feeling of my car’s CD player pulling a brand new disc out of my hand. I miss hearing the disc spinning before filling my car with the sound of new music. I miss the anticipation and waiting for new music.
Worse yet, I’ve lost the magic that comes from hearing a track for the first time and I’ve lost the wonder that comes from digging deep into the lyrics … and I’m not sure how to get it back.