Go Where You Want to Go: Grimes - Visions
Anyone can make music. While that has always been true, it has never been easier for anyone to do so than it is right now. Recording software comes preloaded on most computers and moderate learning curves mean you can bang out a song in just a few hours, even without any hardware. Upload the results to Soundcloud, and you are a bonafide musician. Anyone can make music, but does that mean everyone should?
Claire Boucher is an almost too-perfect example of how relatively easy it has become to record and release music. Boucher started recording as Grimes just a few years ago, recording in GarageBand and figuring out how her music worked as she went along. A few albums quickly followed, and the early results were interesting, occasionally sparking with raw talent. Things could get frustrating, though, as Boucher’s inexperience took her down some failed avenues. Following someone who does not know where they are going can make for a difficult journey.
Boucher persisted and earlier this year arrived at Visions, finding a kind of balance between ambition and experience, or lack thereof. The songs still maintain that vaguely amateurish quality, but now they sound more like excursions into new territory rather than distracted diversions. Boucher is still taking us on a journey, she is just more sure of the destination. It is a testament to both perseverance and skill; she had the tools and now has the ability to match.
Either due to ignorance or attitude, Boucher is not restrained by traditional ideas of what music can or should be, and you never know what sounds she may throw at you. Luckily, she seems to have a preternatural ability to arrange fascinating juxtapositions, bringing together disparate sounds that Boucher molds for her own purposes. It is music made by someone raised on the infinite accessibility of the Internet. Elements are thrown together without regard to style or genre, and that lack of inhibition makes for some surprising moments. You become as excited as she is to discover what comes next.
Boucher’s pursuit is emblematic of many neophyte musicians in this second decade of the new millennium. As tools become more readily available, even more people will set off on their own journey through sound. The results may not be as exciting as Visions, and much of it will likely be terrible, but Claire Boucher is a model for anyone who forgoes traditional channels and ideas to create their own way. There will always be a place for the old guard, obviously, but lack of experience or technical skill is no longer an issue as long as you have the savvy to back it up. Should everyone make music? The answer is, and always will be, yes.
Gaming the System: Soundsupply
Soundsupply Drop 2 from Soundsupply on Vimeo.
Over the past two years, the bundle model has become a viable distribution channel in the world of games. The idea is simple: gather up a bunch of independent games and sell them for cheap, usually without digital rights management (DRM) and with the bulk of the money raised either going to charity or straight to the developers. Different pricing schemes have emerged from the various bundles, but they all give you the opportunity to buy upwards of five games for a fraction of what even one of them would cost normally. And because the idea is still trendy, a bundle can get noticed simply by the fact that it’s a bundle, regardless of the quality or popularity of the contents.
Considering how popular the bundle approach has become in gaming, it’s not surprising that the idea is now finding its way to other media. Enter Soundsupply. Soundsupply functions very much like the game bundles described above: gather 10 albums in a DRM-free format and sell them for cheap, eschewing price gimmicks in favor of a flat $15 charge. You don’t need to crunch the numbers to know that $15 for 10 albums is an incredible value. Of course, that’s assuming the music is worth your money at all.
One of the criticisms of the bundle model is that the quality can vary wildly within the bundle itself, but that worry is usually mitigated by the low cost of entry. It doesn’t really matter if there is a dud in the bunch when you only paid a few dollars for the lot. Granted, $15 is a decent chunk of change for some, but at $1.50 per album the real cost is time. And while time is certainly a treasured commodity these days, there are certainly bigger wastes of it then spending 45 minutes on a record it turns out you don’t love.
Fortunately, Soundsupply’s first supply drop was more than worth the asking price and time commitment. Coconut Records’ Davy and Someone Still Loves Your Boris Yeltsin’s Let It Sway were each worth the $15 alone, and albums by Sophie Madeleine, Sister Suvi, and Into It. Over It. made the deal that much better. Soundsupply is now currently in the middle of its second drop, and the quality is just as good this time around. Jeremy Enigk, Owen, and Matt Pryor headline the current picks, and there are gems to be had among the relatively unknowns. It’s good to see the organizers considered feedback from the first bundle and included the lossless FLAC format; that kind of attention to the community will determine whether Soundsupply survives or not.
But even more than that, Soundsupply may need to ramp up the quality if it wants to stay relevant. One of the things that keep the game bundles going is the inclusion of good titles that are fairly well-known. Hooking people with World of Goo or Super Meat Boy is imperative to ensure they not only spend the money, but come back again. Few people are willing to support the bundle model simply because its a good idea, they need to have a reason to return. Soundsupply is already well on its way to establishing a solid base to build on, as long as the momentum continues.
But that momentum comes with drawbacks. The bundle model is so popular in gaming that “bundle fatigue” has set in; it is becoming harder to convince people to pay even the minuscule asking prices as their backlog of unplayed games continues to pile up. Incentives like extra games, soundtracks, and source code help differentiate between bundles and give customers added value. Luckily, Soundsupply has the luxury of being the only music bundle around right now, but it may need to address this problem later on as other collections pop up to compete for listeners’ attention.
For now, though, Soundsupply is an interesting idea worthy of support. The organizers claim to be “ushering in a revolution in music distribution” and while that may seem like a lofty goal, the fact that there are already a year’s worth of drops planned means they may just succeed. In this digital age, the barriers between artist and audience are constantly being broken down, and Soundsupply is another huge chunk out of that wall. A few clicks and a few dollars is all that separates you from a slew of good albums. All you have to lose is time.
Past, Present, Future: Spin Magazine
Music magazines, like most traditional journalism outlets, have struggled to find a footing in recent years. As we have seen on a larger scale with daily newspapers, established publications are trying to figure out their place in the conversation: Rolling Stone slimmed down and shifted their focus to encompass the overarching culture rather than just music, and Paste ceased print publication in August 2010 to focus on a purely digital presence. In years past, music magazines acted as gatekeeper, presenting readers with the weekly/monthly/quarterly dispatch as distilled by the opinions of the staff. But the Internet has democratized the dissemination of information, meaning that most people find out about a band’s tour dates the same instant the editors of Rolling Stone do.
Which raises the question: do we even need a curator anymore? With dozens (hundreds? thousands?) of websites and blogs relevant to your interests available at your fingertips every hour of the day, do we need a third party to parse through the deluge and tell us the important bits? Or can we now fill that roll on our own, creating a hyper-personalized experience that no single outlet could hope to create? The answer to the last question is obviously yes, but Spin creates a strong case for the relevance of print media with its newly-redesigned issue.
The thing is massive, about two inches taller and wider than the other rags surrounding it on the rack. The front half of the magazine is printed on glossy paper, which is perfect for the photos that can spread over two whole pages. The back half, containing most of the feature articles, is printed on white matte of decent stock in mostly blue and black ink and gives off the vibe of a handmade zine from years ago. It feels like you’re holding something important, something meant to last. But as wonderful as the new design is, it only fixes the lesser of the magazine’s former problems.
Over the past few years, Spin has struggled to keep up with the rapidly-changing trends. By the time an issue hit the stands, it was already outdated; it was a place to find out what had just happened, not what was going on now. Which would be fine, except that the magazine presented itself as an of-the-moment culture guide, meaning flipping through an issue often felt like a pointless endeavor. And because the magazine was trying to apply the old rules to the new cycle, there was no substance. In their efforts to stay current, they ended up glossing over everything.
The revamped Spin aims to rectify these problems with a new “timeless, as well as timely” philosophy. While the website handles up-to-the-minute news and a new Twitter account spits out quickie reviews, the editor’s column states “the bimonthly print edition now seeks to find stories you can enjoy as thoroughly today as four months from now, stories that are about an idea, not a moment.” This first issue certainly succeeds in that respect.
There is a thread of nostalgia that runs through the issue, which seems fitting as the magazine looks to its past to save its future. Simon Reynolds turns in a kind of addendum to his book Retromania and makes the strongest case yet for Lana Del Rey’s relevance. Profiles of musicians, artists, writers, and filmmakers follow in this theme and actually provide some illumination on the subjects, despite the brevity.
The Sleigh Bells cover piece is wonderful, and should be required reading for fans of the band. It’s exactly what a feature should be: it reveals a hidden dimension to their music and creates a deeper connection with the band. And it’s a fine piece of writing to boot. Reign of Terrror was already a great album, but the article adds depth to it that may have otherwise gone unexplored.
Patton Oswalt brings the issue to a close with a thought-provoking back-page column about the nostalgia cycle. It acts as a kind of full-stop, breaking down modern nostalgia into some component parts and arguing we should embrace the trends. But not for the reasons you might expect.
And with that, it’s over, the finality of the back cover’s iPhone ad capping things off. No links to click for further reading, no behind-the-scenes videos to watch. Just the satisfying thump as it hits the table and faint scent of the ink on your fingers. It’s a near-perfect example of what music magazines need to do if they want to survive. Even if the majority of us get our news online, there will always be room for a timely, as well as timeless, tome.
