In Defence of the Album

Record collectors shuffling through the racks on the cover of DJ Shadow's Endtroducing album

In a 2002 interview David Bowie infamously predicted that the internet would revolutionise the distribution and consumption of music: “Music would become like running water or electricity,” he said - a prophecy that was eagerly ceased upon by digital streaming services like iTunes and Spotify that would accelerate the availability of cheap, and even free, mass market music.

Music as a Disposable

In these days of saturation internet and instant gratification perhaps this easy availability is what the modern listener now expects but I argue that this has diluted the very experience of listening to music. It's simply not the same as it was years ago. And I have an unlikely ally in the shape of Taylor Swift who has restricted the release of her albums on Apple and Spotify:

Music is art, and art is important and rare. Important, rare things are valuable. Valuable things should be paid for. 

Taylor Swift doesn't care much for music streaming services like Apple

I think she is right. Music used to be paid for. The whole process of consuming music used to require an investment, not only in terms of money but in attention, focus, time and effort. Buying a record represented a climax to a process: saving your pocket money for weeks, jumping on your bike, zipping down to town at the weekend, or nipping out of school in the lunch hour, searching the racks of the local record store for the latest release from your favourite artist, or even better exploring a second-hand store for random albums, and discovering entire back catalogues of the latest group all the rage in the school playground, or taking a punt on an interesting looking cover which could send you off on a whole new voyage of discovery.

The Rise of the Album

The listener had made an investment in the purchase and like anything that takes a bit more effort an attachment is formed which is sadly lacking in today’s throwaway world. In short buying a record was an event - it meant something; crucially it meant the music had a value, a value that commanded time, effort and respect, especially in the album form - perhaps explaining why so many old albums are revered today.

Vinyl offers consumers a ritual experience they value, handling and interacting with something physical. Spotify can’t replace that.

By the 1970s it was the “album” that had superseded the “single” as the preferred format of music presentation and musicians, in the wake of the Beatles’ ground breaking Sgt. Pepper album, were now able to demonstrate their skills and ambitions on a greater canvas, with extended songs embracing themes, concepts, and experimentation, creating mood and atmosphere over a sustained period. As Colette LaBouff argues in her excellent essay The Long Play even interludes between songs became noteworthy. On the transition from Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band to With a Little Help From My Friends she writes: “I don’t care how much attention the second song gets, it isn’t at its best unless it’s preceded by the first song. There’s a gorgeous narrative in the short pause joining the two. The record is part of that story.”

Did the album really start here? Sgt. Pepper in all its gatefold glory

The physical presentation of the product was as much a part of the experience as the actual music encouraging both a visual and kinaesthetic association to the whole. The characteristics of musical recordings DO change our experience of them in just the same way a cup of tea tastes better sipped from china compared to a polysterene cup.

The Joy of the Artwork

Groups forged their images through their album covers, producing spectacular artwork, often presented in a gatefold sleeve, augmented by lyric sheets, inner sleeves, integrated booklets and even gimmicks like zippers, outer paper bags and boxes, or rotating wheels.

Led Zep's rotating wheel, sliding inner, and paper bag cover examples

The album cover whilst an integral part of the music presented within, became an important art form in its own right providing a source of much fascination and debate and even fetishistic worship amongst fans who would pore over the photographs and pictures, the musician and crew credits, the lyrics, obsessing about the symbolism and hidden meanings, whether alone in their bedsits or student digs, or socially passing a record sleeve amongst friends (a significant lack in today’s music sharing experience).

The centre fold of ELO's Out of the Blue - a picture that I'd study obsessively as a teenager 

From Rush's  A Farewell to Kings - lavish band photos and detailed technicals

From Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon - plenty of space for the lyrics

Inside the cover fans would look lovingly at the shades of the grooves in the vinyl against the light briefly panicking when a blemish was spotted followed by relief when it proved just a fleck of dust or a hair easily brushed away. Some groups even left messages on the run off grooves, or hidden backwards in the music (usually unintended mind), or actually carved into the usually jet black vinyl (coloured and pictured vinyl was a relatively short lived gimmick).

An "Aleister Crowley" inscription left on some pressings of Led Zep III

How ironic that even Spotify founder Daniel Ek, when asked how he listened to music, said: “I probably shouldn’t even admit this…but… I tend to buy a lot of vinyl records. I like it for the artwork but also for the warmness of the sound.”

You have got to admit listeners used to get a lot more from a vinyl than just the music.

The Two Sides of The Story

The music was presented on two sides of a vinyl and physically limited to around 40 or 45 minutes in total (usefully, and ironically given piracy concerns, also the length of one side of an old C90 cassette tape greatly facilitating the sharing of albums amongst friends – it is arguable that rather than penalising artists this practice actually encouraged sales by introducing a wider audience to new artists – the “increasing the whole size of the pie” argument). The two sides provided an enforced break in the programming further engaging the listener in active involvement with the need to choose a side to play and then to actually flip the record half way through; many artists took advantage of this presenting music of differing character in each half such as an "acoustic" side and an "electric" side.

Van Morrison's Astral Weeks album was divided between In The Beginning and Afterwards

Replicating his own and others' (especially Bob Dylan's) practice of presenting different versions of songs in concert Neil Young's Rust Never Sleeps had a gentle acoustic side and a heavy rocking electric side including alternative versions of the same song

Cassette tapes followed briefly and were at first thought to have an advantage over records that could be easily damaged and needed a flat stationary surface and a delicate needle to play them! They maintained the character of the two sides and some cassette machines would reverse the tape automatically on continuous play, but they did stretch, break and wear out so were but a fleeting fashion. Their most useful deployment was in cars.

The Rise of the CD

Actual music listening was changed in more fundamental ways with the emergence of the CD in the 1980s and 90s. First presented as a convenient indestructible format able to present a whole album (and more) in one sitting, without the need to "flip" the disc the old two sides became irrelevant. This was particularly a boon for classical music much of which had not fitted conveniently into the two sided vinyl format. Digital access at the touch of a button removed the physicality of dropping a needle on to a record and allowed random sequencing by the listener (note the insertion of the phantom “track no. 37” added by some bands to frustrate this practice) although invariably listeners would still start from the beginning for purely practical and convenient reasons. However by starting always at track one a listener would often not get past half way; consequently many artists front loaded their best songs and the old “second side” tracks would receive much less air play thus becoming increasingly redundant.

Perhaps this last consequence was more a result of the new physical format doubling the maximum storage limit so albums could now be 16 or more songs say or 80 minutes long, and typically bands “took advantage” of this. However as well as weaker tracks or fillers, the extra space, particularly on re-issued analogue LPs tended to be used up by out of context and inferior alternative takes, demos, b-sides, or even interviews carelessly tagged on like film DVD extras, thereby compromising or diluting the original product.

20 tracks and 73 minutes! Quantity over quality.

This demonstrated a clear case of quantity over quality. Classic LPs were already perfectly formed but record labels thought they had to add extras to fill the new space and give consumers better value for money. New artists rarely maintained a consistent standard or theme over the extended period now required (and expected) in order to fill a CD. In essence they now had to produce a “double” album every time (how often have you heard what a great single album a more bloated double album would have made admittedly an accusation, unfairly I’d say, often levelled against the Beatles’ White Album, released long before the CD format of course).

This extension of capacity beyond a psychologically significant 45 minutes also put a greater demand on the listener’s attention span and many became less willing to listen to an album in its entirety or in the order intended by the artist.

Of course the smaller physical presentation also relegated the importance of the album artwork and rendered much of the extra data illegible and thus pointless. As Colette LaBouff adds rather depressingly, "once the record player broke and the records were moved to storage, CDs had followed and then it was all gone. Music played [only] in the background."

The Return of the Single

Ironically the medium by which most music is consumed today, although now physically very different, has resulted in listeners coming full circle and listening again to (digital) single tracks as they were doing so in the 1950s and 60s when (vinyl) singles dominated music sales. The availability of mp3 digital files (whether downloaded or streamed) brings with it immediacy, convenience and portability (thereby also increasing opportunities for sharing and piracy). This new form allied with the general “unbundling” of albums by music distributors meets the shorter attention span and instant gratification expectations of today’s consumers who now tend to, and expect to be able to, buy individual tracks rather than albums. This is such a far cry from artists in the 70s who became known as “album” bands and did not even offer samples of their longer works in the form of singles (Led Zeppelin for example did not release any singles in the UK and the only access fans had to their recorded music was to invest in the albums). Even the physical albums themselves where they still exist are often used as a shortcut to the digital files, and lay unopened in their cellophane wrappers now many internet retailers provide both formats at point of sale.

The Quality Question

I don't need my music to be devalued by the worst quality in the history of broadcasting.

Neil Young

The dominance of the mp3 file had led to another fundamental, but generally accepted and overlooked, outcome; the quality of the music has suffered. Firstly, as already noted, the greater storage space available has arguably encouraged groups to sacrifice quality for quantity. Secondly there has been a depressing acceptance of the inferior audio quality of compressed digital files, in comparison to CDs and vinyl, a quality further compromised by flaky internet connections, frustrating website interfaces, and intrusive advertising. Thirdly the internet has now made it feasible for literally anyone to make music. Like the book world, where it is now possible for anyone to self-publish (something I am admittedly taking advantage of myself whether by e-book or blog), DIY publishing without adequate quality control leads to a lot of substandard work. Gavin Castleden puts this amusingly: “When you release the valve without well-tuned filters in place, you get what we have now: muddy waters (not the artist, the metaphor). You have tracks from seasoned artists like Radiohead distributed side by side with garbage (not the band, the metaphor), and you have transferred the burden and blessing of filtering from more official gatekeepers to the consumer.” This rather unsophisticated filtering is now carried out through retrospective consumer word of mouth and DIY online reviews.

Quality control has moved from official gatekeepers to the consumer.

For one or more of the above reasons, or maybe because of the derisory revenue stream models used, some high profile artists, from the Beatles to Taylor Swift, have refused to licence their work to streaming sites. Neil Young, ever the rebel, has in the past disowned his work in the digital format barring the release of parts of his back catalogue, and has recently withdrawn all his music from the streaming sites: “I don’t feel right allowing this to be sold to my fans. It’s bad for my music.”

The awkward old godfather of grunge, Neil Young, and his Pono player 

However it is worth pointing out, and cynics may note, that Young is not entirely turning his back on the overwhelming tide of “progress”. He accepts that low quality digital streaming may serve as the “new radio”; his beef is with the way mp3 files have shamelessly sacrificed quality in return for convenience and portability. In response he has developed his own high quality digital music service. It remains to be seen if his “Pono” system will have any impact on the giants of digital music distribution.

Chris Kornelis actually argues that the perceived sound quality of vinyl, often described as warm and authentic, is merely a "feeling" unproven by science

The Modern Attention Span

The ubiquity of “all you can eat” digital music has spawned a generation of collectors for collecting's sake – a modern hard disc mp3 player can store 50,000 songs (or in other words up to 100 days’ worth of non-stop music); enough for a lifetime and far too much to digest and appreciate. Consequently only parts of these vast libraries of data are actually listened to as individual entities outside of their original context (if indeed they were conceived as part of an “album” in the first place) with random play and compilation playlists inadequately taking the place of the “longer plays”.

"All you can eat" music in the palm of your hand

But even complete tracks are sometimes beyond the attention span of an easily distracted and impatient modern audience and users sample parts of tracks without actually properly listening to anything. Like YouTube clips, social media, or throwaway celebrity articles, the pleasure is brief and passing, leaving no lasting impression or chance for contemplation especially for more involved, deep, slow burn, or challenging music. This emphasis on immediacy means the novelty evaporates immediately too with the rush to consume, dispose and forget leaving the listener ill equipped to provide considered perspective over time. As Labouff says the internet generation used to multi-tasking now sadly have “far less patience for the single-pointed focus required to do one thing at a time.” They are missing out on the pure pleasure of simply listening to an album as a whole, from start to finish.

The traditional music album is a collections of songs written and recorded, usually at the same time, by the same musicians, selected and carefully grouped and sequenced, combined into a singular tangible physical work, to provide a sense of continuity and atmosphere, and ultimately a standalone holistic entity greater than the sum of its parts. Like a good novel, a great album will reward repeated listens and leave a lasting effect, becoming a durable source of pleasure and inspiration over many years. This is an experience many young people will never know.

New Hope or a Dead Cat Bounce?

Or will they? At the end of last year statistics revealed that vinyl records had actually outsold digital downloads in the UK for the first time. The usual 40+ hipster male demographic was now being bolstered by teens and 20-somethings buying new vinyl releases in addition to heritage or niche albums.

Does this indicate a true resurgence in actual album listening? Unfortunately probably not. The increase in vinyl sales was not mirrored by CD sales which are still falling, and is still dwarfed by paid subscription streaming services. Vinyl’s market has crawled back into the margins of the mainstream, but since its status is nowhere near the contemporary standard of streaming, the fact that a niche product can compete with this standard illustrates the music industry’s very poor ability to monetize its non-physical products.

But the new found relative popularity of the vinyl format has seen a spread of availability in music shops and even supermarkets. Kim Bayley, chief executive of the Entertainment Retailers Association, said: “We have a new generation buying vinyl, lots of teenagers and lots of people under 25, who now want to buy their favourite artists on vinyl and have something a bit more tangible, a bit more collectible. People have become keen to support their favourite artists by buying into that ownership concept."

It’s very difficult to demonstrate your love of an artist if you don’t have something to hold on to.

Sean Forbes, who manages record shop Rough Trade West in London, which has been selling vinyl since 1979, said there was a “massive increase” in people buying vinyl and that new racks had been put in all Rough Trade shops to meet demand.

Brighton's Resident Records has recently expanded to house a vinyl wing

Forbes admitted he had been surprised by the resurgence in people buying all types of music on record, although he welcomed it as a change from those who, in years past, just came in to buy nostalgic albums like London Calling as a memento rather than to actually listen to.

People will still be buying Dark Side of the Moon on vinyl when we’ve all been dead a hundred years.

And to bring my essay full circle - the biggest selling Vinyl LP of 2016? Ironically David Bowie’s final record, Blackstar.