En route to Montreal (part 3)

There was an interesting article in the LA Times about ipods and the overwhelming simplicity of buying music.

http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/commentary/la-oe-almond26-2010mar26,0,5330405.story

Entitled "The Trouble With Easy Listening", writer Steve Almond praised the convenience of the ipod but lamented the utter absence of that sense of joy that came with the thrill of hunting for music.

It makes me wonder if, as consumers, we are moving from a hunter-gatherer structure to something much less rewarding.

As an example: years ago I told a girl friend about an old magazine that I wanted. 'The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction' had dedicated an entire issue to writer Harlan Ellison. I had never seen a copy of the magazine, but every time I popped into a used bookstore I would scour through their racks to see if they had a copy.

And somehow, my girl friend found me a copy. I can't remember if we were together when she found it or if she found it on her own and gave it to me as a present. But the important thing is that she *remembered* and somehow she turned my quest into her own and discovered it for me.

Flash forward to some 20 years later: I just typed 'harlan ellison fantasy and science fiction magazine' into my search engine and *presto* the issue from 1977 is there for purchase at $33.50 plus shipping. Just that simple. All just a click away.

There is something to be said for the search and for the hunt. And it's not just thrill of the pursuit -- it's the intense enjoyment and sense of satisfaction you get after you've got it in your hot little hands. Almond's article discusses the effect this has on the enjoyment of music: if everything is instantly available, is it ever truly savored?

He also touches on the quaint antiquity of the mixed tape. Years ago I made a tape for the woman who would become my future wife. I remember the thought and care and planning that went into the tape: finding the right songs, figuring out what order they should be played, recording some snips of dialogue from Bull Durham (I believe in long, slow, deep kisses that last three days) and Bugs Bunny ("Ah-ha! Pronoun trouble!"), finishing the tape and then mailing it to her, waiting to see her reaction

I look back and sometimes think that the mixed tape I gave her was me at my very best.

Today someone could use itunes and make a playlist that could be cobbled together in two minutes. The gesture is the same, but it's so effortless in its creation that I can't help but think that something gets lost in the ease of its creation.

A credit card and a google search will get you just about anything. Itunes can find songs both old and new with a mere click. The internet has made it all so very, very easy. And that's not necessarily a bad thing, it's just that a bit of the thrill is gone.

As for me, I'm hoping that when I'm in Montreal that I will have a chance to walk up the road from my friends' apartment and visit a used cd store I found on my last trip to the city. The store may not have anything that I can't get on ebay, but there's a chance that I might discover something that I hadn't realized I was looking for.