Wallpaper is nice.

It blends in.  It doesn't offend.  It conceals blemishes, the uneven surfaces and the holes.

It's easy on the eyes.

It's easy on the ears.

I don't want wallpaper.

I want to know that it wasn't perfect, that it was made by a person.  I want to believe that it is real.  I don't want it veiled and pleasantly unaware; it has to be stark naked and rosy-cheeked.

----

Here's an example.

So this is a bit tacky.

When it comes to music, I try to fight off nostalgia like the plague.  If you let it win you'll never listen to anything new.  We all gravitate toward the music of our past, the stuff we heard when we were growing into our adult limbs and brains.  And right now, for a moment, I'm going to let gravity win...

Today marks the 10th anniversary of one such item in my collection: "Tell All Your Friends", the debut album by Taking Back Sunday.  In 2002, this band was just another run-of-the-mill rock/pop crossover from Long Island, NY.  A dime a dozen.  Fodder for MTV marketing, and perhaps even designed make angst-ridden teenagers spend their allowance.  What music isn't?  Many of their peers have since disbanded or become irrelevant.  TBS has managed to last for 10 years, touring relentlessly and releasing four studio albums in that time.

And their music is still relevant.  Their sound has been polished and modernized over the years, but it has yet to become dated, self-referencial, or lazy.  Every new release has protected the energy and freshness of "Tell All Your Friends".  Sure, some releases have been more successful than others and not every song is brilliant.  But TBS continues to inspire rock music in a way that I believe not many other bands from that era are doing today.  And I think that's pretty cool.

Cheers guys.  There, I told all my friends.

Spotify -- "Tell All Your Friends" by Taking Back Sunday

Record/Record

Ok, this is a minor grievance, but can we all collectively decide on a definition for 'record' (i.e. "reh-kerd")?

Some listeners, creators, writers refer to a singular 'record'.  One song, which may or may not exist on an album.  Others use the term to define an album.  So who is right?

I venture to guess this confusion is tied to the history of a recorded medium--the vinyl 'record' --on which singles but also entire albums were distributed.

"You hear the new Skynyrd?"

"Yeah, that's a great record!"

One fan may refer to an LP, the other to a single.  Both correct, but neither is clear.  Whether they understood each other is another question entirely.  For what it's worth, the Recording Academy have since 1958 awarded 'record of the year' to a single.  A song, that when recorded achieved some level of excellence by their standards.

I might be contradicting myself here, but...

What happened to the days when we had patience?

Music used to be something in which we invested ourselves--monetarily, emotionally, physically. I remember pulling 'Tragic Kingdom' off the shelf and hoping the rest of the songs didn't suck. I had heard the single, "Spiderwebs". I had to have the CD, if only to play that one song on repeat. I ended up falling in love with the album. But only because I put work into it. Not every song spoke to me immediately, but I didn't get lazy and stick to what I knew.

This experience wasn't unique to that album, to that artist -- this experience wasn't unique to me. This used to be how we listened to music. Today we don't give any song--or album, or person--longer than 15 seconds to win us over.

Perhaps we could listen a little more like we used to.

It's simple.

Music is meant to move the listener.

Listening to a piece of music, or a song, is not like breathing. It engages the mind; it is a conscious activity. If you--the listener--'stop' the music while it is playing, and your state of being either improves or remains the same as it was while the music was playing, you have no business listening to that music. Move on. Find music that will move you.

It's simple.