I'm in a musical rut
On March 3 all of De La Soul’s music will be available on streaming.
In 2014 when De La Soul made all of their music available to download, I immediately downloaded their entire catalog to my computer I bought in school in 2008. But before I learned about external hard drives, before I learned to check iCloud backup, that computer broke and I lost the entire collection.
I reconsidered my digital music habits at that moment.
Never imagining that I would no longer have access to all the music I wanted, I transferred all of my CDs onto iTunes in 2007. Prior to this I unsafely reached around my car to flip through an ancient binder of hip hop and R & B from the late 1990s to early 2000s and slid CDs into the player. Besides, my ten year old CD collection was mostly scratched, bumped and broken. Digital music listening allowed me to have all of my music at the touch of my fingertips.
But digital music wasn’t always prudent. Like for long drives, before I had an AUX cord in my car, before I had streaming services like Pandora or Spotify at my fingertips. To keep my music library minimal, I only bought new CDs when I made the drive from Durham to Toledo while I was student at Duke. I frequented Edward McKay Used Books and Music in Greensboro to pick up an album for the drive. Although I now purchased and downloaded all my music from iTunes, I looked forward to the tactile experience of flipping through the artists, hearing the plastic clack with each flip until I found Outkast, or Amy Winehouse, or Brandy. I drove past stately domed buildings of West Virginia and the wide open spaces in North Carolina listening to Common Finding Forever for the millionth time, CD on repeat, no suggested songs anywhere.
I figured all artists would make the transition with the rest of us. But not everyone did. As Prince’s, Aaliyah’s, and De La Soul’s musical libraries have shown us, at times physical copies were the only way to go. And with frequent moves, clumsiness and carelessness, I had not one physical copy of any of my music.
As vinyl is having a massive resurgence, it seems I am not the only one frustrated with digital music consumption. The resurgence is a little more than nostalgia; the fear that music can be lost in the ether at any point.
On top of all of that, I’m convinced streaming puts me in a music rut. And my own musical laziness. And if I play one of my favorite artists, Ari Lennox, say, after her album is finished it will immediately continue to play the same songs and artists I already listen to, Beyonce, Solange, Katraynada, Kali Uchis and Megan Thee Stallion. And since I absolutely love these artists, I don’t mind listening to their albums again. Until I realized I was in a musical groundhog day. I’ve walked past these notes a thousand times, I’ve opened these chords, grabbed the same basslines, dropped them and danced into perpetuity. My music listening is mindless and my tastes remain on autopilot. I longed for the days of going to Ed McKay’s and hearing those CDs clack.
For example, I’ve been listening to Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly almost exclusively for a week. I’m studying album structure. But I took a break to listen to James Brown and listen to I’m Black and I’m Proud. These are the list of songs that followed:
Kendrick Lamar – Alright (not a funk single?)
Umi Says (Been listening to this too)
Ain’t No Half Steppin Big Daddy Kane (had this on repeat earlier that day too)
I Choose You by Willie Hutch (Ok, same genre as Black and I’m Proud but I have a feeling it played it because I like rap; it is the UGK feat Outkast Int’l Players Anthem).
So, often, I'm going to force myself, whether I click on a new artist on Spotify, or revisit record stores and purchase albums, to diversify my listening habits. And write about this new artist. I think I’ll start with Bree Runway.