On the way home last night I listened to Jo Whiley lament the loss of HMV, the latest retailer to have fallen foul of the digital revolution. She talked about teenage memories of visiting the store at the weekend and the joy found in choosing records; taking them home to appreciate not just for the music they contained, but as treasured possessions with a greater intrinsic value.
Thinking back to my indie youth, what she had to say struck a chord. I, like many of you, can name my first CD (Primal Scream, Screamadelica if you’re interested) and take myself back to listening to it amongst the joss sticks, purple paint and rather questionable dyed hair that was my teenage years. At 33, I hate to sound old and nostalgic, but I’m not sure if the experience of today’s youth, with their one click downloads, is quite the same or memorable.
It’s seems obvious, but when music, like books or videos, was physical, it was much easier to value. A tangible thing we could hold in our hands, admire and display as a signifier of who we are that carried with it a more considered choice than today’s anonymous files that are buried on our hard drives. Someone’s CD collection, amassed over the years, and across different retailers and locations, is a rich tapestry of stories. From the Coldplay album that was a gift from a first love, to the limited edition EP bought at a secret gig in Brixton Academy in 1996, each item has more of a history and associations than can ever be created in the one-to-one online relationship of digital retail. I know I’m a romantic, and as someone working in the heart of digital I shouldn’t be fighting ‘progress’, but a library of downloads seems a little cold in comparison.
Yes we still might get the same pleasure of listening to music, but thanks to the likes of iTunes and all, the experience of obtaining it has become so easy that our connection to the artists and songs is becoming lighter and more transient. HMV may have been open on our high streets nine to five, but our smartphones are on hand anytime, anywhere and sell us anything. No wonder they couldn’t compete. And like with so many things in life, as behavioural economics explains, if we don’t have to work up a little sweat doing it, we don’t feel the need to raise its importance in our psyche.
Now with the likes of Spotify, we don’t even need to make any commitment to the artist at all. With a simple login and just £10 a month, we all can have access to the biggest music collection we could imagine. As with so many things, thanks to the digital revolution we can get more, more, more and arguably listen to numerous artists who would never have seen the light of day in the old world model – but is more as good as meaningful?
The world is indeed changing. HMV was too slow to change with it. Music is well and truly democratized so how on earth could a traditional retailer hope to compete. However, I wonder if in amongst this state of flux it is possible to try and take the best of both worlds and find ways we can learn to treasure our digital possessions as much as we do our physical ones? Can we begin to hold dear our favourites on our Spotify lists like the mixtapes of yesteryear or has value taken on a new quality? As Primal Scream would say we’re moving on up, but are any of us really considering what we may have lost when we get there.