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Monday, Nov 23, 2009
"The mix tape is dead. Long live the mix tape." Readers respond to Joel Keller's "PCs Killed the Mix-Tape Star" and Andrew Leonard's "Praise Be to the CD Burner."
Jan 26, 2004 | [Read the lament for the mix tape and the paean to the CD burner.]
I was heartened by Joel Keller's article. It would seem that mix tapes have gone the way of the dinosaur, along with letters, photographs and the like, all brushed callously aside in favor of their newer, digital counterparts. It warmed my heart to know I have a kindred spirit in mourning their loss.
One could argue that things are now more convenient (in a world under the constant "threat" of a terrorist attack, time is precious, after all...), and to avoid hypocrisy I would have to agree that once in a while I appreciate the quick fix. But something important has been lost in the transition: meaning. The inherent meaning in such archaic media that is a byproduct of the effort put into them.
The mix tape was a subtle art, one passed down through the generations in my family. I remember my father painstakingly going through each song, pointing out certain licks that sent him soaring and recounting the memories each song invoked along the way. It was an aural history. Each song and each tape was a little piece of his past, his emotions, himself. When it was often hard to get through that tough outer shell, those mix-tape sessions created a viewing window. When he gave you a mix tape, you knew he had spent at least a couple of hours on it; it was the nature of the beast. That's a couple of hours in which you could be certain he had you in mind. And sure, with CD burners it takes less time, but do we ever do anything truly worthwhile in the extra time we save? I say we've lost more than we've gained. Mr. Keller, I am still clinging to my tape deck; I'd be honored if you sent one of your cherished mixes my way -- it would have a good home. Pretty sad times indeed when a 19-year-old is already so nostalgic.
-- Molly Fitzpatrick
If you want to publish a eulogy to the dying arts of yesteryear, find someone who will do it without sounding whiny -- and without overlooking the unique possibilities that new technologies offer.
A Floridian I know exclusively via online acquaintance (name withheld as he is a Clear Channel employee) is also a devotee of the fine art of the mix. He has collected a database of music so massive that even the Library of Congress would be jealous. When he builds a mix, he decides on a theme, follows a set of rules very similar to those stated by Joel Keller, and starts click and dragging the playlist into existence.
He then imports the playlist into mixing software, where he carefully selects his own start and end points for each piece, balances the levels, ping-pongs the stereo, adds backbeats to cover the cross-faded transitions, matches tempos, inserts seemingly random audio snippets (all the more intentionally selected to create that impression) to change the meaning of the music to his whim, and otherwise massages it into a new whole entirely his own. He then burns his opus to a CD as a single track, or exports an 80-minute MP3.
The entire process takes about as long, is at least as painstaking, and results in a work of beauty as poignant as the mix tape à la Keller. It has the added benefit of including effects and a level of professional polish that most audiophiles (or at least the ones with equipment budgets of less than the cost of a used Toyota) could only dream of even five years ago. And no one can set the playlist to shuffle without seriously deconstructing the work on their own, a process which would (one supposes) be undertaken only by those with an equal love of the final product.
And this is only the beginning. An exclusively Internet phenomenon is the mash-up, perhaps the ultimate mix, in which devotees layer the lyrics from artist A against the music of artist B. Not 24 hours after Dean's apocalyptic concession speech, his words had been thrown against techno break beats by GarageBand users the Internet over. By all indications, the fine art of the mix is alive and well; it has simply evolved to better fit the new landscape.
Technology has not rendered mixing obsolete, it has simply empowered more people to be lazy. If Keller wishes to be lazy, that's certainly his prerogative. He should be very clear, however, that it is a choice, not an unavoidable effect of Moore's law.
-- Rich Pizor
When I was in college in the '80s, I was a radio DJ. I taped my shows as I did them, so I could enjoy later. I often gave the tapes to friends from home. Without a comparable radio station where they lived, my tapes gave them a chance to hear artists that they normally wouldn't.
About five years ago, I was one of the first of my friends to get high-speed Internet access. I downloaded music, mostly MP3 singles from record label and promotional sites. I'd arrange my favorite songs onto CDs so I could listen to them at work. I even created covers and track listings. I then gave copies of these CDs to friends, most of whom didn't have broadband but might enjoy some of the artists I found. After a while, these CDs were pretty popular -- friends would ask me when I'd come out with a new one. I felt like I was back programming a show, picking out my favorite tracks and putting them in order.
Unfortunately, the CDs proved to be more short-lived than my cassettes from college. Most of the CDRs they're on are now unplayable.
-- Jack McHale
In response to Joel Keller's lament about mix tapes: Sorry, but Andrew Leonard is right. "With the annoying obstacles posed by archaic technologies removed, I have more time to pay attention to what really counts: the music."
I recently created a two-disc mix CD as a Christmas present for some friends and the process was very much akin to the way Keller described laboring for his tapes of yore. I sat in front of my PC with a beverage and spent a couple of hours (actually, days!) finding just the right combination of songs to put on my mix.
In other words, just because I can put together a mix CD very quickly, doesn't mean that I have to.
The argument that Keller makes is that cheaper and more widely available technology equates to a flood of lower-quality product. This argument is heard in any number of subcultures where there exists a small group of people who are "experts" or "artists" because they have the willingness, time or money to learn complicated and cumbersome technologies. Professional studio recording is a great example. Now that home recording gear has been priced within the budget of any number of amateurs, the pros are screaming, "These dilettantes are diluting our quality products with crap -- in 10 years all recordings will suck!" But I think that deep down they just feel resentful that a 16-year-old with a PC can now do what it took them 10 years and $50K to learn. Just another iteration of the "high art vs. low art" discourse.
(This e-mail was written by Auto-Letter-to-the-Editor software, which creates a response to an online article based on keywords in the article).
-- Kayvaan Ghassemieh
Joel Keller's article was dead on. The making of the mix tape is one of life's great joys, and I for one have not relinquished the task.
I am sticking with the "cumbersome" Walkman for my gym workouts, not only because I also use it to listen to audio books from the library, but because (as Keller points out) no MP3 is ever going to provide me with that perfectly matched batch of tunes.
Long live the cheap, tendency-to-get-tangled, 90-minute cassette tape!
-- Stephanie Schwartz
Reading Joel Keller's article, I felt really bad for the man. I also used to slave in front of the tape deck for hours, first with vinyl records, then with CDs, in an attempt to make the perfect compilation for whoever was the lucky recipient. However, instead of disliking the computer CD compilation process, I've found that it frees me creatively.
No longer do I have to wrestle with my horrible reflexes, never knowing if I restarted the tape deck in time. I never again have to obsess over how to create the perfect amount of time in between cuts. I can also digitally erase any defects that exist in the source music, design and create beautiful cover art, labels and package inserts, and equalize the volume and tone to my liking. I make a "best of" CD at Christmas every year and my friends and family are always waiting in eager anticipation to see what I've included and how the songs are arranged. Listening to the songs all the way through is still crucial, whether the technology demands it or not.
If Mr. Keller is finding his creativity stifled by the use of computers to create, perhaps the problem isn't in the PC. He appears to be complaining that this technology, which in my opinion has made me far more creative in my mix tapes (OK, CDs), has made him lazy. That can hardly be blamed on the computer, now can it?
-- Susan Gorski
