It is ironic that I am writing for Tiny Mix Tapes, because no other website makes me feel like I know less about music. As I make what my friends and I call “the rounds” every day to various sites, few destinations leave me furrowing my pale, freckled brow more. Who the hell are all these bands? Why haven't I heard of them? Am I slipping? Am I not as hip as I think I am? No. Impossible. I'm hot shit in a Champagne glass. These bands must all suck. Yeah, that's it. They just all suck, otherwise I would know them.
Who am I kidding? I suck.
It wasn't always like this. There was a time when I was ridiculously informed. I constantly surveyed the new tours coming near me, researched older or experimental musicians, tracked splinter groups with promise, and investigated every band getting buzz. On slow days, I'd comb through the archives of my beloved websites, cross-checking their reviews against each other. I'd take it further, seeking out other articles in magazines and newspapers via Metacritic and researching biographies and discographies on the encyclopedic Allmusic, the music nerd's best friend.
2003 was the first year I really had my shit together, and I now look back on that year through rose-colored glasses. I discovered so many great emerging artists, as well as acts I had missed from previous years.
I remember being at a party that year and putting on Sufjan Stevens' Michigan album.
“What the hell is this?” someone asked with a bewildered look.
“The album of the year,” I replied.
“Put something else on,” she said, dismissively turning away.
I just shook my head at the time, because I knew vindication would be mine. Sufjan was going to blow up and become an indie staple. It was as clear as day.
Now it's 2008, and I feel I could easily be in my friend's position. I picture some tune coming out of the speakers as we drunkenly play cards. “What is this crap?” I say to no one in particular. Someone then patiently explains that this band is the Next Big Thing, while I just roll my eyes and beg them to let me put on a Pavement record.
When did I fall out of the loop? How could I have let this happen? I find myself grasping for acceptable excuses.
Truth be told, there's no reason out there that absolves me. When I first started to scale back, I resigned myself to just tracking artists that I personally liked. I didn't need to know everything out there that was good; my private stash would be enough. Who cares if everyone's talking about that new freak-folk album? I hate freak-folk.
After that, it was just a matter of time. There's no easy way to admit to myself that I just don't have the same fervent desire anymore. The sheer number of bands out there make up an ungodly, seemingly impenetrable mass. I used to view it as a challenge, one I was eager to take on to sate my need for new ear candy. I found the journey self-rewarding. Why climb Everest? Because it's there, of course.
Now, when I stare at a web page full of band names I don't recognize, that old urge is absent. When a band's new single has everyone talking, I no longer go out and get their entire discography so I can better understand the song and put it in a proper context with the rest of their work. Depending on my mood, I may not even give the song a shot anymore.
I'm beginning to think one's lifespan within underground music is similar to dog years. If a dog lives to 15, it's a long, full life. Similarly, if you can remain plugged into the scene for 15 years, you've done better than most. Eventually, though, we all end up euthanized via family, a demanding job, commitments to friends and community, other interests, or just growing older and losing energy.
In that vein, I would seem to be the great Dane of indie nerds. I had five to six good years, and now all I want to do is sleep.
Perhaps I'm romanticizing the past. What were the advantages to that level of devotion? True, I found a lot of great music that I still revel in to this day. However, when I'm honest with myself, some of the reasons for my intense focus were not so pleasant. The fact that I had that amount of time to devote was because I didn't have much else going on in my life.
After college, when everyone disperses throughout the country, I found myself without friends for a while. My first job out of school was naturally crappy, easy, and left me with loads of free time to peruse the net. And my depression about these things led me to latch on to one of the few passions I had left that had remained constant: music. It was a sanctuary, of which I was in desperate need.
The crutch served its purpose then, but now that I am happier with life, there are other things that require my time. Having good friends means wanting to be with them. Having, or wanting, a significant other demands attention as well. Finding other interests in the world demands an allocation of one's passion.
I don't think I have suffered as a result of these things. Quite to the contrary, I feel that becoming more open to other facets of life has left me more content and well-rounded. I pick and choose what I can, I listen to recommendations, and I enjoy what I hear. I try to tune out the voice in my head nagging me that there's something good out there that I'm not hearing. If I'm listening to something good in the here and now, shouldn't I be happy with that?
The last thing I want is for my love of music to become a joyless chore – I can easily imagine my bloodshot eyes squinting at a computer screen surrounded by stacks of CDs as I click through streaming audio, listening to 100 songs that leave me numb before finding one that I like. Or worse, endlessly searching until 4 AM for B-side tracks from a band I don't even like, just so I can be sure that I don't like them.
What good would I get out of that? None. This whole thing's ultimately about pleasure, isn't it?
So, I don't dive into the fray with blind ambition and that unquenchable thirst anymore. I'm still learning how to be okay with that. Soon, though, I hope I'll be able to stand back a bit and take in the circus of it all -- amazing debuts, disappointing follow-ups, must-see tours, standout singles, new projects, and strange experimentations. I won't be able to catch every minute detail, but I'll still enjoy the show.
Click [here to return to the 2008 Year-End Image Map]
