Disappearing Culture

In a fine new Salon article, writer Andrew Leonard writes about the changes in music-delivery media, and posits that we will miss 1990s-era CDs much less than we miss LPs and other obsolete forms of music storage. It's an interesting essay, well worth reading in its own right, as Andrew Leonard is one of the better writers over at Salon. His essay got me thinking about what we always miss when new forms of art and new forms artistic delivery (media) emerge. Although there is a resurgence of nostalgic interest in LPs (mentioned in his essay), it seems clear that particular form has become a thing of the past. At their best, albums represented beautifully packaged artistic visions, the aesthetic of the album packaging complementing carefully chosen tracks that presented a complete picture of the musical artist's voice at the time. Album artwork often included compelling photographs as well as details of the recording and reprints of the lyrics. We have lost that complete package, and we have arguably lost something in audio quality (depending on the type of compression used in whatever digital audio file you have), but the consumers have also gained greater accessibility and the ability to buy only the songs we want (although ITunes has also attempted various workarounds on that, with "album only" purchase options).  We have gained something, but we have lost something also. Such is the way with the progress of artistic technology.  I've been reading a biography of Andres Segovia, the great classical guitarist, who had to endure the loss of fine, hand-wound strings to less-expensive, machine-made strings.  To the casual listener, his sound quality never suffered, and strings were made more widely available for all, for a long time. But there's always a trade-off. When sound movies were invented, we lost the delicate art of silent film, yet few today mourn the loss in any serious way. Sound presented an obvious advantage in allowing us to access the rich language of human dialogue and the evocative emotion of music.

Silent films today exist as wistful dreams of a bygone era, beautiful in their own way but relics of the past. The technology of art marches on, and artists and consumers change and adapt in a way that keeps art vibrant and relevant.