Recently, on seeing a valiant fellow traveller's rewards on the journey thus far, I have thought about the place that time has to play in listening to music. I might be the only one who likes to place a substantial gap between listens to albums, for the simple reason that I feel like it gives the material some chance to percolate. This is done on the back-burner, and I know that it's done when a line or melody comes to me at some odd time, usually with me being completely unable to place the source. I take this to mean that I have somehow subconsciously assimilated the material, and that I am ready for another listen.

Putting this into writing, I realize how strange this must be - even weirder than my principle of listening to entire albums. One unfortunate consequence is that the amount of albums I can say I have listened to is rather small, by all accounts. However, that is a rather banal metric of listening - what is more important, and more interesting, is whether this addition of time is artificial, or whether it does help create some space for the music to grow. I suspect that as always, the answer is wholly dependent on the individual; given my particular wirings, and my past foibles, I am fairly confident that for me the experience is more enriching.

But even so, I cannot fully shake off the ghouls that ask why it is I listen to so little, yet profess to love so much. Part of my struggle with this question is the admittedly juvenile, but somehow resilient equation of volume with "knowledge", or some such vapid notion. The internet* has helped provide some grounding for my suspicion about how anomalous my listening habits must be in this regard. last.fm, for instance, coolly tells me of countless people who in a month listen to as much as I have the past year. Now, who exactly it is I need to prove knoweldge to, I am not sure - is it similar to the obsession that drives collectors in the first place? Why, for instance, do I feel compelled to complete certain parts of my catalogue (aside from borderline OCD, that is - and I do not mean that in an entirely flippant manner)? A natural explanation is the imaginary creation of an uber-critic or collector who watches over the collection as it forms, passing judgement on weak spots that are evident to all. Why this fictional creation should be given any time at all is another matter...

It seems only natural that I should respond to these volume-heavy listeners with a broad dismissal of them not "understanding" or "appreciating" as much as I do, but frankly that's a bit of nonsense. I cannot deny that more than a few of them really do seem to have a deeper knowledge and love than the caricature of this type of listener I'd like to imagine. For them, however, time seems to play little to no place - back to back listens of albums are no problem, whereas for me they are nigh impossible, as the second listen would simply wash over me - I'd hear the same thing I heard the first time. I find I need time to collect my thoughts and feelings before that next listen, in order for it to hit home harder.

So what then is the insecurity that makes me feel as though I ought to be listening as much as these other people? It is, I think, a consequence of me getting a little too caught up in the game. With this sort of attitude, music loses its personal charm and "true meaning", but instead becomes the end of some inane competition. Who listens to the most, who knows the most, who has the most eclectic tastes...all rubbish, really. I am glad that in my calmer moments (I'd count this as one), I'm able to stay true to the motivation for time-separated listens (giving more meaning to something that deserves it), but I do wish that it were able to put a stop to these nagging doubts about inadequacy. It's easy enough to blame the internet for this too, but that doesn't even fool me!

I suppose that like most things when it comes this subject, I am not entirely sure whether my theories are fabrications of my mind, or if I genuinely believe them. Of course, it doesn't matter whether they are or not, but some sort of confidence in my technique would nonetheless be reassuring. It would save you the trouble of wading through such half-baked posts too.

* Ironically enough, I sometimes feel that the internet has provided a mechanism that can sometimes rob the fun out of certain endeavours. I owe virtually everything in my catalogue to the advice of the internet, but I suppose I am also referring to both the ease of information and, of course, the ease of downloading - something I have deliberately avoided out of some potentially archaic (yet, conveniently, legally supported!) set of principles. Like many an old coot before me, there is a pleasure associated with going through some effort in waiting for a CD, finding it and then purchasing it. It is also a very useful way of curbing excessive listening, you know!

I am a little concerned with my foray into classical music, in particular with my perceptions of it. I would like to think that my interest stems out of the musical qualities themselves, but I sometimes wonder whether it is what I proudly proclaimed wouldn't happen - namely, being motivated by thoughts of it somehow making me more "informed" and knowledgeable. Rather pathetic, really.

Regardless of whatever ulterior motives I fear I may possess, there has been some actual time spent on listening, thankfully. Mozart has proven to be rather easy on the ears, and it's no wonder he's usually the first choice for "initiation" into the fold. Almost like pop songs, sometimes; at least, the ones I've heard. Bach, on the other hand, seems like he requires far more dedication and patience. It might take a good, oh I don't know, fifty listens to get through The French Suites. Beethoven finds himself somewhere in between, but is a bit closer to Mozart for my comprehending abilities. Of course, my judgements do not presume to be about the actual quality of the music, for I know far, far too little about classical music to say anything meaningful on the topic; as such, they are just initial sketches which I can only hope get clearer in due course.

S really surprised me today with a comment about albums, and how listening to an album the entire way through is essentially dead. Words to the effect of "You're probably the only one in the country who does that anymore"! Wow!

It got me thinking as to where I developed this habit in the first place. I suspect it is because of the hours upon hours my impressionable young mind spent taking in George Starostin's reviews. I seem to remember him making a few remarks as to how his reviews really were specifically about albums, and not just collections of songs. It didn't matter if there was any thematic or conceptual structure to the album; after all, that would strike out far too many albums from consideration. It was more to do with the overall feel that the album produced - listened, of course, from start to end.

There was a point in time when listening to an album the entire way through was the only way I would listen to music, and I think such an "extremity" is probably rare among listeners these days. I for one no longer belong to this group, for I have since been cured of this affliction, and now enjoy the pleasure of random playlists. But that is not to say that I have lessened my appreciation for the album as a separate experience, which I guess is also somewhat of a rarity. I of course accept that this is not at all the best way to listen to music, but I do think it provides an experience distinct from a randomized (or even personalized) choice of playlist.

One of things I like about it is, funnily enough, one of the points made by S against it - the continuation of mood, and occasionally the great arching structure the artist puts above it all. Again, I don't think this proscribes one to listen to the album in order, but that doesn't mean that there's nothing it offers that you can't get from a random playlist - which is all I argue, and which for some reason S seems to be implying to the contrary.

Actually, the only time when I feel like I have to listen to an album the whole way through is the first listen. In fact, while I am not entirely opposed to adding a track to one of my randomly chosen playlists after an initial listen, I do feel rather clammy about it until I feel I've properly listened to the whole album. Maybe in the space of an album, tough nuts have lots of protection around them, and are saved harsh criticism? Or (and this is probably more towards the truth), perhaps I think too much about albums, and get too excited about the times where the first song, chosen wisely by the artist, turns out to be a mini-masterpiece of sorts, shutting out all of the world for a moment or two. But there is also the fact that a shuffle seems so disjointed to me if I'm not at least somewhat familiar with the tracks. Of course, this is more a personal foible than anything else, and again I don't think I would ever argue that it is somehow "wrong" to have a different type of first listen. All I call for is a sense of balance!

Maybe all this talk about it being a separate experience in my head after all. It could just be that I place too much worth on the album as a concept, leading to all sorts of quirks like this. Still, I don't feel like it's something particularly restricting, nor something that closes doors to me; not yet, anyway!

I still find that the first listen is the hardest. Of an album, that is - and I wonder whether it's to do with me, or if it's just how it has to be sometimes. It seems too easy to just call such work "subtle" and leave it at that, because I suspect there are other forces at play.

It is interesting to me that a non-trivial number of times, I have found myself either completely indifferent or actively disappointed about an album after my first listen. Sure, there are many times when I feel "Well, there is some good stuff here", confident that future listens will help bring out something - but far too many times for my liking, I have been scared away from future listens because of bad first experiences. And, in recent times, every time this has happened I have subsequently come to really like the album - we're talkin' becoming borderline devotional towards it, you know. I have to ask, is it the material, or is it just me? Or, better yet, is it just the way it has to be!?!

I don't think the material alone can explain this phenomenon, because it doesn't happen to "serious" albums alone. There's no doubting that a dead-serious album with complex themes really requires the right frame of mind if it is to be accepted with open arms the first time, and this can be a hard thing to summon up sometimes. But I have also had negative first experiences with albums that are essentially pop, ones featuring what I now consider to be very good melodies. No really complicated themes, just a lot of pretty melodies floating around, but...not a smile from me! I can remember the first time I heard them, where I would be itching, just itching for the darn thing to finish so that I could go clear my head and forget that I wasted my time on something so unworthy of it ;) The melodies, it would seem, did not make themselves all that well known on our first acquaintance*!

This leaves me to more or less conclude that it's either to do with me, or it's just a struggle we all have to sometimes go through. I wouldn't say I don't pay sufficient attention the first time around - I actually try and make it a point to give the album my full attention, especially I'm really excited about it. I suspect it's more to do with the fact that the first time around, the album needs to cut away any pre-conceived notions one has when coming into it. And in my case, albums usually have high expectations attached with them, and in the past I even used to expect specific songs to be knockouts based on reviews I had read. With such expectant listening, unless something is immediately, obviously good, one is bound to be disappointed that it didn't meet whatever lofty standards were set. I actually remember how before listening to Morrissey's Your Arsenal, I told myself that I had got it just for sentimental reasons, and that it was probably going to end up disappointing. And lo - I had a good first listen! Hardly scientific proof of my offhand theory, but it adds credence in my own subjective eyes.

Anyhow, it does leave the second listen in an interesting position. The first at least leaves open the possibility that it's one of these famous tough nuts that requires perseverence; the second is fraught with the peril that you are left in the exact same state as the first! This, in my experience, has been pretty rare. Even if I've left with a similarly unfavourable opinion the second time around, I usually manage to discover something that passed my careful ears the first time.

But wait, thinking about it, if we are to be precise (and we must, we must!), perhaps it is the pre-listen that is the hardest. Even the most eagerly anticipated album seems to require an extraordinary effort for me to sit down and prepare for the first listen. Put it down to one of my many foibles - I seem to require that things be "just right" for the first listen, for the all-important first impression. Which, more often than I'd like, ends up with me thinking "Well that was a waste of money"**.

Perhaps this sort of post is symptomatic of the problems I have with listening. It could just be that I think too much without sufficient listening time to give the thinking any reasonable form. I mean, the hours I've spent reflecting on how music I've never heard will probably sound...! Yes, there is a lesson here, but one which I haven't been able to learn well enough to put into practise. But then again, what are we really talking about - how to listen to albums? To paraphrase Zappa (again), "Just shut up 'n play it".

* Love's Forever Changes is what I am thinking of - the first listen I found absolutely dreadful, and I think I was so bored the first time that I stopped listening halfway through, and let it become background noise. For shame!

** Only half-seriously, mind you! For I don't think I have yet given up entirely on an album, no matter how atrocious the first listen was. True, getting myself to sit down and prepare for that second listen is tough, but I've been fairly diligent thus far.

A great article that documents that which I sometimes think many have fallen prey to, in this age of ours, the curse of musical over-consumption. I find it especially trenchant when he remarks how one of the symptoms of this affliction is that you end up wanting to listen to something just for the sake of "having listened to it" - so that the next time you read about it, you can pat yourself on the back and say "Yeah, I know those sonic textures are amazing". That was pretty much exactly where I was at a few years ago - but you know, what is worrying to me is that while I don't consume all that much anymore, when I do listen to something, there are still times when the excitement is at being able to finally express my thoughts on it afterwards. To who or what, I am not sure, but there you go. The music becomes incidental! If there is a complete cure, it would seem that under-consumption is not it!

Listener apathy

So it seems like listener apathy is rampant these days. I suppose it has been for a while, except that maybe it's getting worse of late. If emotional investments in music are minimal, and it's no surprise that so too are the returns. I think the mainstream has well and truly gotten to the stage where "it says nothing to me about my life" (mostly*). (Apologies, I'm going to start ranting again) It's all too easy to see why people like AS consider rock to be the stuff of instant gratification, the stuff of no substance; I would too if I sat through an hour of the top music videos of the moment.

And yet, I should be careful when thinking about what it means to be an apathetic listener these days. When I was in the car with A, he started talking about music and what he likes. He asked S about Radiohead's Kid A, and S made the point that it took maybe three listens to find songs that one liked. A agreed, and added "But who has the time anymore to take so long just to find something you like?". Indeed! I can see where he's coming from; it also makes me realize that people like me can make just about anyone seem apathetic. But it seems obvious enough that there has to be music that requires multiple listens for one to appreciate, simply because there aren't enough geniuses around who can create songs or albums with immediate resonance (you might think POB is a very "obvious" attempt at this, but I think actually trying to make such a thing work is a far more subtle proposition).

Since I'm on the subject of music and the public's reaction to it, I've often thanked my lucky stars that I managed to somehow get past peer-pressure listening. I suppose I left VM before it set in, and in KH, well, I guess I didn't hang out with the kind of crowd who cared about these kinds of things. I may as well put forth the wild speculation that one of the reasons that our Zeppelin friends can be viewed with such contempt by some is precisely because there are those who are so religious in their admiration of the group, that it's only natural that a group of the populace decide to completely reject this stance, sometimes letting this emotion get the better of them. Due to this reverence, Zeppelin seem to be the kind of band for which, unfortunately, people can have a gut-level dislike against. I'd probably be in the same boat had someone come up to me and said "'Little Deuce Coupe'**? The hell's this ****? Listen to 'Stairway', that's real music". The funny thing is, there is a point there, inasmuch as 'Stairway' is arguably a better-crafted song that 'Coupe'. But the attitude, man, the attitude just puts me off (the phrase "real music" does too, but again I would feel like saying it is an appropriate statement in some cases, just not this one - yet how do you draw the line!?!). If I had an experience like that (and, from what I've heard, there are dopes who go around talking like this), lord knows what sort of listener I'd be now.

I dislike this sort of musical elitism, and yet funnily enough, I sound so terribly elitist in this post. Yet I can't help it. I don't look down on those who follow the mainstream, but I do feel that those who treat music as a means of instant sensory pleasure are missing out on something. But hey, they get their kicks from other things, so I should just leave them be.

The funniest thing out of this whole experience is that now I've got them apathy blues. Not listener apathy, but rather genre apathy. I'm unable to muster the interest in the entire post-punk scene, something that I thought was an ideal milking ground for a music lover. I seem to want to retreat to the comforting realm of singer-songwriters. Since I remember reading about John Prine a while back, I now feel like getting one of his albums. Heck, all I've listened to of late is country-rock, the most maligned of all genres. The thought of Joy Division (even though I love Unknown Pleasures), The Fall, The Jam and others just makes me somewhat clammy, and I haven't a clue why.

* There's talk of the Arctic Monkeys album being really good. And it's #1 on the charts!

** My musical collection come class XI was a Beach Boys greatest hits CD. It amazes me even now.