Greatest Hits Albums: Are They Obsolete In 2024?

In the not-so-distant past, the release of a Greatest Hits album was significant as it represented a milestone for an artist or band; one that featured a curated collection of their most successful and beloved songs. While some would naturally lament the track selection, as it didn’t meet their subjective expectations, the compilation album was one of the most successful endeavours in all of recorded music history for not only were the outlay costs minimal for record labels, but it also had the potential to appeal to casual and new listeners, as well as existing fans. In today’s streaming-dominated landscape, where playlists reign supreme, the relevance of a curated Best Of release seems trivial, perhaps, but don’t go anywhere for we’ll explore the pros and cons of compilation releases in the modern era.

A Brief History Of Greatest Hits Albums

Greatest Hits albums have long been a staple of the music industry, gaining mainstream popularity in the 1960s and 1970s when record labels recognised the potential of repackaging an artist’s most successful singles into an album-length release. These albums were a win-win for both the artist and the label as they generated additional revenue without the need for new material and offered fans a convenient way to own all of an artist’s biggest hits in one place, such as Johnny Mathis’ Johnny’s Greatest Hits; purportedly the very first Greatest Hits compilation.

Over the years, Greatest Hits albums became an industry standard, with nearly every major artist releasing one (or more) at some point in their career. These albums often included previously unreleased tracks, alternate versions, or remixes that entice die-hard fans to pick up a release comprised, predominantly of, previously released material. However, for many listeners, Greatest Hits albums were a gateway to familiarise themselves with an artist’s most popular work before diving deeper into their catalogue. They were also a great gift for the casual fan or emerging music-lover.

Yes, dear reader, despite the popularity of playlists, these humble releases are still being made and are available at your local record store. Granted, the fanfare surrounding these releases are not the event they once were, but that shouldn’t diminish their cultural importance for there are numerous cases where Greatest Hits releases were more successful than the artist’s individual records. Compilations such as the Eagles’ Their Greatest Hits (1971–1975), The Beatles’ 1, and Bob Marley And The Wailers’ Legend – The Best of Bob Marley & The Wailers, outsold any of their respective studio albums. In some cases, particularly as it pertains to Bob Marley And The Wailers Legend, the release is so good that unless you’re a dedicated fan, this single collective work is all, most people, would ever need.

The Impact Of The Digital Revolution And Playlists

Despite Greatest Hits releases weathering the changing tide of music format shifts, the arrival of the Internet-driven digital age, in the late 90s and early 2000s forever changed the musical landscape and the way people listened to music shifted dramatically during this time. By this stage, Vinyl had all but disappeared, and the Compact Cassette was similarly waning. CDs were still popular but would begin to yield to digital downloads, and eventually streaming services, as music lovers began to realise they were no longer bound by the constraints of physical media.

With platforms like iTunes, listeners could cherry-pick individual songs rather than purchase an entire album. This freedom diminished the appeal of Greatest Hits collections, as consumers could now create personalised playlists, effectively rendering these albums obsolete. Fast forward to the modern streaming era and services such as Spotify, Apple Music, and Amazon Music, dominate the record industry, allowing for unprecedented access to music that interests you. With access to millions of songs, and albums, along with the convenience and affordability of streaming, there is little doubt as to why it has become the preferred method of music consumption, for most people, with physical media and digital downloads now occupying a niche market.

One of the core features streaming services offer is the ability to curate personalised playlists. Whether it’s a playlist of an artist’s most popular songs, a genre-specific mix, or a mood-based selection, streaming services have made it easier than ever for listeners to discover and enjoy music. Going beyond songs alone, it’s even possible to use Apple Music’s playlist and associated folders feature to create a playlist of albums for each calendar year. Who wouldn’t be drawn to such flexibility?

In essence, the playlist has replaced the Greatest Hits release. Much of this shift in popularity is due to the ability of the individual to curate a selection of what they, subjectively, feel to be great, versus a curated static collection of songs that may, or may not, appeal to the individual music lover.  Purists will, undoubtedly, question this logic and I can certainly understand both sides of the argument, but a collection of songs that can be updated in real-time to reflect current trends and adapt to the evolving tastes of music lovers is an extremely compelling proposition.

Of course, curated playlists remain prevalent on streaming platforms, such as Apple Music’s Essentials, Deep Cuts, and Live; all of which are a compilation of sorts. They’re dynamic versus the static releases of old. Imagine, if you will, you enjoy a curated playlist so much that it becomes a beloved selection of songs that you simply can’t live without. Come Monday morning, you play the playlist only to find that it has been updated. Perhaps a live track has been slipped in. Or a Christmas tune for that merriment time of year. What would you do if your favourite song had been omitted? In the age of the curated playlist, unlike the traditional static Greatest Hits release, the playlist is dynamic and can be added to and changed as an artist or record label sees fit. Even if a song is suddenly deemed offensive, it can be cancelled in our overly sensitive modern era. Hopefully, you can see, that there is still a need for a static Greatest Hits release, despite the possibility that it can quickly become outdated, and has limited appeal in the modern era.

Pros And Cons Of Greatest Hits Albums In The Streaming Era

Pros Of Greatest Hits Albums

1. Cultural Significance: Greatest Hits albums have a long history and cultural significance as they represent an artist’s achievements, often serving as a time capsule of their storied career.

2. Accessibility For New And Casual Fans: For new listeners unfamiliar with an artist’s work, a Greatest Hits album can still serve as a convenient entry point. Similarly, many casual fans will find the conciseness of a curated compilation to be an appealing attribute.

3. Physical Collectibles: Greatest Hits releases, via physical media, offer a tangible connection to an artist’s work. Vinyl records, CDs, and even limited edition box sets of Greatest Hits collections are still popular among collectors and enthusiasts and, perhaps most importantly, can be gifted to music-loving individuals; an arguably more personal gift than a gift card.

4. Marketing And Sales: Greatest Hits albums are still a valuable marketing tool for artists and record labels as they generate additional hype and revenue, especially during milestone anniversaries, reunions, or when an artist is preparing for a new release or tour.

5. Artistic Integrity: Some artists take great care in curating their Greatest Hits releases, ensuring that the collection represents their body of work in a meaningful way. This artistic integrity can elevate a Greatest Hits compilation beyond just a commercial product, making it a valuable piece of an artist’s legacy.

Cons Of Greatest Hits Albums

1. Redundant In The Streaming Era: With the rise of streaming services and playlists, the need for a Greatest Hits album is greatly diminished. Music lovers can now easily create their own playlists, or find curated ones that offer a similar experience, making the static Greatest Hits album feel like a relic from a bygone era.

2. Outdated Collections: Greatest Hits albums often don’t reflect an artist’s evolving career, particularly if they’re still actively recording new material. As new music is released, these compilations can quickly become outdated, lacking the customisation and relevance that playlists can offer. Of course, that isn’t to suggest that an artist’s new works are Greatest Hits worthy, but a static Best Of release gives no options for expanding post-acquisition. Additionally, when Greatest Hits albums are released on streaming platforms, they can be missing songs, so check out Why Songs On Apple Music Are Greyed Out And How To Fix It for alternative options.

3. Lack Of Personalisation: Greatest Hits albums are one-size-fits-all collections that may not resonate with every listener. In contrast, playlists can be personalised to match an individual’s tastes, offering a more tailored listening experience.

4. Limited Discovery: Greatest Hits releases typically focus on an artist’s most popular tunes, which can limit the discovery of lesser-known gems within their catalogue. Playlists, on the other hand, can introduce listeners to a broader range of an artist’s work, including deep cuts and live performances that would normally be omitted. Plus, if you stream a Greatest Hits compilation, you can instantly go and listen to the artist’s studio albums if you so wish. Convenience, in this instance, reigns supreme.

So, Are Greatest Hits Albums Still Necessary In The Modern Era?

Yes, but it’s not a clear-cut argument.

As already discussed, the case against the importance of Greatest Hits albums, in the modern era, is considerable as it lacks the personalisation and flexibility offered by streaming services. Yet, it’s imperative to not dismiss the importance of the Greatest Hits album, even from a modernistic perspective, as many of us, myself included, appreciate a well-curated release that requires no thought from the listener’s perspective. We can simply sit back and enjoy. Additionally, new listeners will likely appreciate a Greatest Hits release as it’s an accessible entry point into an artist’s catalogue.

It should also be remembered that the flexibility that is offered by the modern-day playlist will not appeal to all music lovers; especially those who don’t want to be bothered putting together playlists or waking up one day to find their favourite song is no longer streaming on their chosen platform. Some people naturally won’t care, but many do. For those people, the static compilation remains essential. Add to that the bonus artwork and written reflections that accompany physical releases and you have a value-added proposition that streaming services simply can’t replicate.

The Future Of Greatest Hits Albums

As the music industry continues to evolve, so too must the concept of the Greatest Hits album and it need not remain in its static state; let me explain. By embracing a hybrid model, artists and record labels could appease both types of music lovers. The static releases would remain in the physical realm, as well as being made available to digital download stores. The streamed edition could be dynamic and subject to change as an artist or their label sees fit. This duel model has already been explored with artists such as Guns N’ Roses (with their 2020 reissue of Greatest Hits; now including the Shadow Of Your Love) and The Rollings Stones (with their 2019 release Honk; now including the song Living In A Ghost Town); examples that prove that both the traditional and modern worlds can coexist in harmony.

In the end, whether or not Greatest Hits albums are still necessary may depend on how artists and labels choose to prioritise them. Granted, they have to resonate with audiences, but if the compilation release is to survive, artists and record labels need to continue to support these albums, otherwise, the career perspective release will be relegated to a relic of the past.

A New Album Release Used To Be An Event, Now It's Just A Blip On The Radar

There was a time when the release of a new album was a monumental event. The anticipation would build for months, with fans eagerly awaiting the moment they could get their hands on a physical copy. The buzz would start with a lead single, followed by magazine features, and interviews, along with a televised live performance and music video. As the release day grew nearer, music lovers would be exhilarated and would have to choose if they would pick the album up when the record store opened, just before it closed, or chuck the good old sickie to go, pick up, and listen to the highly sought after release. It was, truly, an event.

Today, however, the landscape has changed dramatically. With the rise of streaming services, social media, and the fast-paced nature of modern life, an album release often feels like just another blip on the radar. The cultural significance of the album release cycle has been diminished, replaced by a constant stream of alternative content that competes for our attention. Yes, singles and associated music videos are still being released in the modern era, as is the interview and appearance schedule of an artist, but the mystique and water cooler talk is lost the moment the latest cute cat video comes across your feed. Even the name “feed” is a disgusting term that can imply gluttony as we seemingly can’t get our fill. Is it not time to change our perspective and begin to realise just how unnecessarily pointless most of the content we consume on a daily basis actually is?

Part of the problem in the modern era is the ease with which the music is delivered to us. Don’t get me wrong, there is no way I could undertake my project of exploring the history of recorded music; one album at a time, if it were not for music streaming. The problem is, however, that there is no longer an investment of time or excitement on behalf of the modern-day music lover. In the past, we’d wait patiently for the music to be played on the radio, or we’d rush down to the record store to pick up a copy on 7-inch vinyl, CD, or Cassingle. We’d even sit patiently, watching a plethora of music videos, waiting for the new song to be shown on Video Hits or Rage; Australia's counterparts to MTV. In essence, dear reader, it required something of the listener for it wasn’t merely a passive background element but one that was in the forefront of our psyche. Of course, this is but part of a larger issue that needs to be discussed, so grab a coffee, and join me, as we explore the evolution of album releases, examining the factors that have led to this shift and what it means for both artists and listeners in the modern era as well as into the future.

The Build-Up: From Mystery To Instant Gratification

In the past, the build-up to an album release was a carefully orchestrated process. Record labels and artists would tease fans with just enough information to create a sense of mystery and excitement. A single might drop months before the album, giving fans a taste of what was to come. Magazine covers and exclusive interviews would offer glimpses into the creative process, while posters and billboards would remind everyone that something big was on the horizon.

This slow-burn approach allowed anticipation to reach a fever pitch. By the time the album was finally released, it felt like a major cultural event. Fans would line up outside record stores, eager to be amongst the first to get their hands on and hear the new music. The physical act of purchasing an album added to the experience, as fans could hold the album in their hands, read the liner notes, and immerse themselves in the artist's world. Not only that, but these records connected our appreciation of music, in person, with fellow music lovers; the act of which created a deeper connection and meaning than merely sharing the interest via a social media post.

Contrast this with the modern era, where the concept of anticipation has been all but eradicated. With streaming services, such as Apple Music, albums are often dropped with little to no warning. Surprise releases, once a novelty, have become the norm. Artists like Beyoncé, Kanye West, and Taylor Swift have popularised the practice of releasing albums with little to no promotion, relying on their massive fanbases and social media to spread the word. They’re certainly not alone for it’s been a marketing strategy that dates back to Radiohead’s In Rainbows from 2007. Granted, this approach can generate a significant amount of buzz in the short term, but it also results in a fleeting cultural impact for the album. Without the months of build-up, the excitement quickly fades as listeners move on to the next thing. The album, subsequently, becomes just another piece of content in an endless sea of entertainment options.

The Role Of Streaming Services: Convenience Vs. Dedication

The rise of streaming services has been both a blessing and a curse for the music industry and music lovers alike. On the one hand, these platforms have made it easier than ever for music lovers to access and share new music. With a few taps on a screen, fans can instantly listen to an entire album, without ever leaving their homes. This convenience has democratised music consumption, allowing listeners to explore a wider range of genres and artists than was ever possible before.

However, this convenience has come at a cost. The ease with which we can access music has devalued the experience of listening to an album. In the past, fans would save up their money, make a trip to the record store, and spend hours poring over the album's artwork and liner notes. Many of us, especially when we were younger, had to make a critical decision for we’d only have enough money to buy a single album, but were perhaps interested in two or three. These limitations introduced value perception and created a deeper connection between the listener and the music.

Today, music is often consumed passively, as background noise while we go about our daily lives. The album has become just another piece of content to be consumed and discarded. The idea of sitting down and listening to an album from start to finish has become a rarity, replaced by playlists and algorithms that curate our listening experience for us. As you may have noticed, here at Subjective Sounds, there is a core focus on the album experience for a playlist of songs is akin to watching a series of movie trailers whereby we never truly engage with the entire body of work.

This shift in delivery and listening habits has also had a profound impact on the way albums are created and subsequently released. In the past, artists would carefully craft an album as a cohesive experience, with each track contributing to the overall narrative. Today, the focus has shifted to creating individual songs that can stand alone, as they are more likely to be added to playlists and reach a wider audience. That isn’t to say that artists are no longer interested in creating albums, for some exceptional records exist in the modern era, but it is somewhat of a dying art.

The Impact On Artists: Navigating A New Landscape

For artists, the shift in how albums are released and consumed has presented both challenges and opportunities. On the one hand, streaming services have made it easier for independent artists to reach a global audience without the backing of a major record label. Platforms like Bandcamp have allowed artists to build their fanbases and release music on their own terms.

However, this new landscape has also made it more difficult for artists to stand out. With thousands of songs being uploaded to streaming services every day, the competition for listeners' attention is fierce. The traditional album cycle, which included months of promotion and touring, has been replaced by a constant need to stay relevant in an oversaturated market. This has led to a shift in how artists approach their release schedule. Many now focus on releasing a steady stream of singles and EPs rather than full-length albums. Even mainstream artists such as Billy Joel, Guns N’ Roses, and Motley Crue have succumbed to the single song release, rather than releasing a lasting body of work.

Further to that, established artists continue to feel the pressure to innovate and adapt to the new musical landscape. The days of relying on a big album release to sustain a career are over. Today, artists must constantly create and engage with their fans, in order to stay relevant. This has led to a rise in collaborations, remixes, and deluxe edition reissues, as artists look for new ways to keep their music relevant. This approach allows them to maintain a consistent presence in the market and keep their fans engaged. However, it also means that the album, as a cohesive body of work, is becoming increasingly rare and undervalued.

The Role Of Social Media: Amplifying The Noise

Social media has played a significant role in the changing landscape of album releases. Platforms like Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok have given artists direct access to their fans, allowing them to share new music, announce tour dates, and engage with their audience in real time. This has democratised the relationship between artists and fans, allowing for a more personal connection.

However, social media has also contributed to the devaluation of the album as an event. With so much content being shared every day, it can be difficult for an album release to cut through the noise. Artists are now competing not just with other musicians, but with influencers, brands, and any viral trend for their fans' attention. This has led to a shift in how albums are created and marketed. In the past, the focus was on creating a cohesive campaign that built anticipation over time. Today, the focus is on creating a viral moment that can capture the public's attention, akin to Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up.

This has led to an increase in gimmicks, stunts, and shock tactics, as artists look for new ways to stand out in a crowded market. All one needs to do is look at the provocative nature of Katy Perry’s latest releases to know that she, and her marketing team, are utilising the age-old sex-sells approach, thereby diminishing her creativity, her music, and the associated album’s importance. But, how else is a talented artist, such as Perry, meant to stand out amongst a never-ending stream of social media updates?

Nostalgia And The Return To Physical Formats

Despite the dominance of streaming services, there has been a resurgence of interest in physical formats like vinyl records, cassette tapes, and CDs. Even the iPod is experiencing a renaissance as music lovers are actively seeking to block out the noise of the modern era. This trend is driven in part by nostalgia, as older listeners seek to recapture the magic of buying and listening to music in a tangible form as well as permitting a more focused and less distracted approach to listening to music.

Vinyl, in particular, has experienced a significant revival with increases continuing year over year since 2007. This resurgence has been fuelled by a desire for a more immersive listening experience, as well as the appeal of owning a physical piece of music history as some consider the vinyl record akin to a piece of music merchandise, rather than a music playback format. Regardless of intent, from a buyer’s perspective, the vinyl record is forever delivered in a linear album structure and if nothing else, it reminds music lovers that a series of songs, sequenced and arranged in an album format, as per the artist’s original intent, is an idealistic way to experience the art form.

In a digital age where everything is easily accessible, and social media becomes increasingly distracting, vinyl offers a way to connect with music on a far deeper level. The act of playing a record, even with its pops and crackles, creates a sense of ritual that is missing from the instant gratification of streaming and for many listeners, the experience of listening to an album on vinyl, from start to finish, is a way to fully immerse themselves with the art of music.

That all said, while the resurgence of vinyl and other physical formats is a positive development for the music industry, and the appreciation of an album as a whole, it remains a niche market as streaming still dominates as the majority of listeners consume music via subscription services. The challenge for artists and labels is still to find a way to create meaningful, and lasting, experiences for listeners.

The Future Of Album Releases: Finding A Balance

As we move further into the 21st century, the music industry will continue to evolve and while streaming is here to stay, it isn’t the only consideration for the world’s modern musicians. Yes, the traditional album release may no longer be the cultural event it once was, but there’s still a desire among both artists and listeners for a more meaningful connection to music. The challenge is finding a balance between the convenience of digital streaming and the immersion of physical formats.

Yes, we can point to even newer technologies, such as virtual and augmented reality, that aim to provide interactive experiences that extend beyond the music itself, but that kind of application has been tested thoroughly since the 90s with none having a lasting impression on music lovers around the world. Icehouse did it, via a Floppy Disk, with Big Wheel and Soundgarden with the CD and Enhanced CD-Rom format for Alive In The Superunknown. More broadly, the music industry started to introduce the CD-Extra format; a format that included bonus visual and computer-based elements, such as music videos, that utilised the leftover storage a CD wasn’t using. It was remarkable at the time and did bring you one step closer to the music you loved, but as with many technologies, such as the Floppy Disk and CD drives being removed from modern computer platforms, such technologies are no longer relevant. Even Apple’s iTunes LP, a solution to the problem, has long been discarded; a shame considering just how revolutionary the idea was and how perfect it would be in the modern streaming era.

No, dear reader, new technological advances aren’t the solution. The only way to move forward is to once again focus on the album experience and we already have formats that can deliver that experience. Now, I’m not suggesting that songs or playlists aren’t important, but traditional formats encourage the album concept as being a cohesive body of work, rather than merely a collection of individual songs.

While streaming services still highlight albums, the focus has definitely shifted to playlists. Where artists can change the tide, even if only slightly, is by focusing on concept albums as a cohesive body of work, rather than an album made up of a collection of random songs. One of the most recent and rewarding concept albums has been The Weeknd’s Dawn FM; a masterpiece that is very much an album experience while also permitting individual song appreciation. It’s clear, by this example, that one need not fail for the other to succeed as The Weeknd proved that both an album and song experience can coexist in the modern era. What needs to stop, however, is the individual song release sans an album or EP release to later accompany it.

Granted, the days of blockbuster album releases will likely remain in the past, but there are still ways to recapture the magic and the concept album may be our best bet. Add to that a more traditional release schedule and what you’d have is high anticipation for longer, resulting in greater meaning and appreciation from music lovers the world over. Artists, labels, marketers, and music lovers also need to slow down. We need to embrace the music before moving on to the next and ensure that the album experience is not minimised in our busy and cluttered lives.

Conclusion: Embracing Change While Honouring Tradition

The music industry, artists, and music lovers have experienced significant changes over the past few decades, and the way we experience and value albums, and their release cycle, is a reflection of these shifts. What was once a carefully orchestrated event has now become a more casual affair, driven by the demands of the digital age; one that never pauses long enough to allow us to reflect and look forward to the new music being released.

Of course, fans can’t merely rely on artists, labels, and the industry to bring about change for it is up to us, those who appreciate the album format, to seek out and share album experiences. It’s time we slowed down and savoured the album experience rather than allowing ourselves to be distracted by a plethora of options, of which very few are paramount to our appreciation of music. By embracing both the past and the present, we can ensure that the album continues to be a meaningful and impactful part of our lives for years to come.

THE MIXTAPE MASTER AND HOW MUSIC = LIFE!

Radio was my friend, music stores my playground, yet for the briefest of moments, I was the ‘go-to’ mixtape master, operating the not-for-profit Greentree Records.

MUSIC = LIFE! has been my motto for as long as I can remember. Initially captivated by the allure of Billy Joel’s Uptown Girl and constant wonderment as to how Starship really built the city, it was ultimately the introduction of the Compact Audio Cassette that would change everything.

No, dear reader, I wasn’t there in 1963 as Phillips unveiled this culturally revolutionary medium. It would be almost a quarter of a century later, at the age of 7, that the cassette would enter my life through a now nostalgic double cassette boom box. While the mid-to-late 80s could be reflected upon as the Age of Aquarius for the Phillips/Sony collaborated Compact Disc, the cassette still reigned supreme, outselling both the Vinyl record and the Compact Disc. Much of its success was due to the lower cost of pre-recorded music and portability, thanks to Sony’s Walkman and in-car stereo systems. However, the determining factor of success was one’s ability to record and then share the music they loved. Yes, I know you share your Spotify playlists, but the creation of a mixtape is a labour of love. Let me explain!

On a cloudy Saturday in May, too cold for me to venture outside, or so my overprotective mother said, the light filtered brightly through my curtains as I lay on my bed captivated by the music, perusing the liner notes and the mountain of cassettes that I planned to listen to that day. That is until the moment when I would inevitably decide to swap a tape out for another or replay Icehouse’s Man Of Colours for the umpteenth time. However, on this day, having just listened to The Beatles’ Yellow Submarine soundtrack and Abba’s Arrival, I felt compelled to listen to only a select song from each album. Yellow Submarine is, of course, the only truly noteworthy song for a seven-year-old, on that particular Beatles album, for All You Need Is Love was just a little too mushy. Despite Arrival having so many hits to choose from, I found myself addicted to When I Kissed The Teacher. Yes, I may have had a crush on my third-grade teacher, but that is a story for another time.

Placing The Beatles cassette in deck 1, Abba in deck 2, I was ready. No cueing was necessary as both songs are the lead tracks for their respective albums. As I bopped away, all the while singing the chorus We All Live In A Yellow Submarine, I rolled towards the bedside table as the song was reaching its end so that I could pause deck 1 and play deck 2. The move was seamless and showed a young mixtape master in the making. That was until ABBA’s Arrival tape leader crossed the tape head, making its now-iconic bleep-bloop-bleep noise. For a split second, I was taken out of the moment and was forever determined to never allow another bleep or bloop to hinder my listening experience. As the day progressed, I got better at cueing up songs. Fast forwarding and rewinding became second nature while I prepped one tape as the other played, hoping that when I pressed play, the tape was positioned in just the right place. I’d often get close, but the blending of songs reminded me of the radio disc jockey style where the music never stopped.

Unfortunately, as these mixes weren’t permanent, I desperately needed a blank cassette. Somehow, yet my ageing mind fails me, I had acquired a blank cassette. My memory is erased, blank if you will, all that remains is the ironic low-level tape hiss, for my mind was never upgraded to support Dolby’s Noise Reduction. Nevertheless, I recall being fascinated by the record button on the cassette deck, but my mother had told me never to touch it. Well, armed with a blank audio cassette, that was all the permission I needed to press that button. However, nothing happened. The button appeared to be broken as it wouldn’t depress. Then, as if struck by lightning, I realised the blank cassette was still in my hand and I was attempting to record over a prerecorded cassette. My beloved Arrival no less. Thankfully, with all commercial prerecorded cassettes, the write tab was removed thereby preventing the average consumer from accidentally recording sounds of silence. Although, just between you and me, if you put some good old sticky tape over the left and right holes at the top of a cassette, you can record over absolutely anything.

With the blank cassette in deck 2, as that was the only deck with recording capabilities, I turned the dial to my favourite radio station at the time; Sydney’s 2Day FM. I would occasionally move the dial to the Triple M or 2JJJ (later, Triple J), but knowing my mother wouldn’t approve of their diverse selections, I had to select these stations only when she wasn’t within earshot.

On this particular Saturday, I sat for what seemed to be hours waiting for the songs to play on the radio that I wanted to record. It was enthralling and equally tedious. Although, the process did teach me how some songs go well together, while other combinations would be so obscure that both songs would lose any sense of musicality that they previously had. You see, algorithms weren’t used back in the day, or if they were they were extremely basic. A radio playlist was often attributed to the likes of the host or the overall style of the radio station. Just as 2Day FM was unlikely to ever play Metallica, Triple M would never play Mariah Carey. The challenge, of course, was patiently perusing radio stations, hoping to find a song worthy of recording. Of course, you had to be diligent dialling the station in, otherwise, you’d end up with a lacklustre recording if the signal wasn’t perfect. You may think this could have been done digitally, but alas there was only a manual dial.

Despite all the effort to listen to music, time didn’t seem to pass us by as quickly as it does in the modern era. Multi-tasking wasn’t a thing, nor was the distraction of the Internet. Music existed in the foreground, not the background. We listened to the music. We perused the liner notes, all the time looking forward to the next time we would visit the local record store. Perhaps most captivating, however, was watching the tape reels dance in tandem as the music played. Watching the tape unspool from left to right as I recorded 30 minutes of music on each side was strangely gratifying. It became more so as the tapes expanded to runtimes of 90 and 120 minutes. While longer runtimes were of interest, tapes with these extended runtimes were increasingly susceptible to stretching and tangling on dirty tape heads.

Yes, you had to clean the cassette decks as the metal compound, coating the tape’s polyester film, would flake off over time and reduce the quality of sound, while also clogging the rollers. A cotton bud would do, with a little isopropyl alcohol, but you had to be sure not to leave any cotton residue on the guide rollers or tape heads. Later, I would obtain a cleaning cassette that was a semi-automatic solution. A little of the aforementioned alcohol, and playback of the specialised cleaning tape for approximately 30 seconds, would leave the tape heads looking their best and sounding less concealed than before. See, as I mentioned earlier, the compact audio cassette was really a labour of love and this cleaning process would become a weekly activity that I thoroughly enjoyed. Subsequently, due to this obsessive cleaning routine, I never experienced the unravelling and chewing up of tapes by the tape deck as others did.

Perhaps by now, you’re thinking that this process was incredibly boring, for your Spotify playlist requires no maintenance and can change at random, but you’re forgetting that a love of music isn’t just about compiling, listening, and sharing. Music appreciation in the mixtape era was about the entire process. The holding of a cassette, the permanence of recorded sound (provided the write tab was removed), and the designing of mixtape artwork also took music appreciation to another level. As convenient as Spotify et al are, the tactile interaction is missing. I have often wondered in these three decades henceforth as to whether or not my love for music would be so profound had I not had these experiences. Regardless, the dedication I felt on that Saturday in May, so many years ago, is still present today.

As I would spend most of Saturday and almost all of Sunday, each week, listening to the radio, in the hope of sourcing a better copy of the song, the ultimate solution came when I realised that I need not record only from the radio, but that recording from another tape was possible. No longer was I waiting for a song that I admired to magically appear on the radio. Nor was I limited to the radio-friendly, but artistically limiting three-minute song duration. I was able to record, rewind, and share the music that left me speechless for words were then, and still are today, inadequate to describe just how liberating music feels to the inner soul of the music lover.

The one limitation I did face, however, was being young and broke. Thankfully, my mother and grandmother supported my love of music and were increasingly buying me cassette singles along with the occasional album that allowed me to build a respectable collection, along with piles of blank tapes!

As much as I loved my prerecorded cassettes, the ability to create my own unique compilation of music that communicated my thoughts and emotions at any given time was just too strong to deny. Play, record, pause, fast forward, and rewind became second nature as I would repeat the process over and over again. The trick, however, was ensuring that the mixes you were recording from one tape to another would fit on the amount of tape you had left. I can’t begin to tell you how many times the playlist I compiled had to be reimagined due to running out of tape. This was particularly challenging when recording from the radio as you didn’t know when you’d hear a certain song again. However, the mixtape master found a way. My solution was to record the radio programs to tape for hours at a time, then use that tape to create a mixtape of the songs that could then be used again for mixing additional tapes. Of course, I was unaware at the time that each time I copied a song, it was of a lower fidelity. Truth be told, on the consumer-grade playback and recording equipment I was using at the time, a degradation in quality would have made little to no difference. Plus, the mixtape era was never about quality, but the sharing of music with a personal spin that was unique to the creator and the receiver of the tape.

As Monday came around, each week, all I would talk about at school was music and how I was making these mixtapes. Sports were of no interest to me, but if I spoke of my beloved book collection, I would become the nerd that deep-down inside I knew I was but didn’t want to acknowledge in front of my peers. Lunchtimes were often spent in the library, but music gave me a voice. For the first time, I was being heard. I was accepted.

Then it happened. Daniel asked me if I could make him a mixtape.

Without thinking, I agreed. Daniel and I had been casual friends for years. Daniel didn’t know what he wanted, so he asked me to make a selection for him. Within 24 hours, Daniel had acquired the first official Greentree Records mixtape. Passing it to him filled me with joy and intense anticipation as I couldn’t wait to hear from him with regards to what he thought. Thankfully, his reply was positive and by lunchtime, the next day, going to the library was the last thing on my mind as my peers wanted to know more about these cassettes and if I could make them one as well. Within days I was being handed blank cassettes in order to share my mixes with those whom a week earlier wouldn’t have given me the time of day. It was instant fame and I was basking in my newfound friendships. Some of my peers knew the type of music they wanted and gave me a list of songs or artists, while others trusted my selection based on Daniel’s recommendation. While either option was okay with me, I found the ability to select my own mixes to be preferred as I was able to convey my thoughts through the music.

In many ways, the mixtape was a seductive tool. I, like many others, used it to woo the girl of my dreams. Jennifer had asked for a mix of songs, she didn’t really mind what I selected, so I found every romantic song I could lay my hands on. Her blonde hair, blue eyes, and the most welcoming smile I’ve ever seen simply captivated and inspired me. Uptown Girl was a natural choice, as was Michael Jackson’s Baby Be Mine and P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing), but despite recording such suggestive mixes, anxiety got the better of me and I re-recorded her mix with a less tacky approach. Perhaps Nick Hornby got it right in his opus High Fidelity, as creating a mixtape tape is really like writing a letter–there’s a lot of erasing and rethinking and starting again. At any rate, Jennifer thanked me and went back to ignoring me soon after.

This wouldn’t be the last time I attempted to talk through music to the opposite sex. Despite the romantic notion of mixtape culture, I continually came up empty-handed. Nevertheless, mixtape culture remained alive and well and as my reputation grew, the tapes became more elaborate works of art. As mentioned earlier, the mixtape was more than just a selection of music. Perhaps that’s why it has remained relevant and is still a format of choice for independent musicians looking to merge their unique aural arts with the one-off hand-designed elements that are perfectly suited to the concertina liner notes format.

As for my mixtape productions, I initially wrote song names and artists on the included blank tape sleeve, but as time went on, I started to design my own liner notes. First by hand, later by computer. My computer designs were more elaborate, but the 100% handmade designs were arguably more compelling and uniquely different. I’d even colour and design the cassette tapes, thanks to magic markers and a hell of a lot of Liquid Paper. The Greentree Records label was always positioned prominently and it is possible that in my haste to come up with a logo, I copied the national flag of Lebanon. Come on, it’s a green tree, get it? It was like it was meant to be.

Of course, over time, I began to realise that what I was doing was an act of copyright infringement. Sure, no payment was received for services rendered, but that is of little relevance when the Record Industry Association of America (RIAA) declares money need not be involved for copying to be considered illegal. Although, if one were to suggest the mixtape is a form of self-expression, that builds upon what came before and is, therefore, a new form of art, the legality of such a practice becomes blurred. After all, the hip-hop culture has sampled the work of others for years. Unfortunately, the legalities of such “creative” endeavours will always be hotly contested. Nevertheless, I can say with absolute assurance that I’ve purchased more music than I ever mixed to tape and it was my noble aim to expose my peers to the same music so that they would form an affection for it and buy the music they appreciated. Okay, so maybe I’m a little naïve, but I’m a dreamer!

As the years progressed, my mixtape master ego grew. The Compact Disc allowed me to make higher quality mixes and the speed at which songs could be selected was a godsend. I welcomed the technological advancements, never realising we would end up with what the respected music-first audiophile journalist John Darko terms a CD store in your house. Although, I often dreamt of spending the night in an HMV or Brashs Store. The problem was always wondering what album I would play first and knowing that the sun would come out, tomorrow, far earlier than the music lover within would have liked.

Regardless, the compact audio cassette maintained popularity throughout the 90s, despite the CD outselling it from 1991 onwards. The Discman appeared, but blank CDs and the associated writers were initially expensive and out of reach of the average consumer. During my reign as a mixtape master, I was thankfully never asked to compile a CD, despite the mixtape ethos transferring to the newer and more flexible, but impersonal, media.

Yes, the mixtape master is now retired. While it is better to burn out than to fade away, I was unfortunately not so lucky. However, there may be hope yet. The humble compact audio cassette is experiencing a revival of sorts. Not to the same level as the vinyl record, but not dissimilar either. A younger generation is once again showing us that what is old can be new again and with Netflix’s 13 Reasons Why prominently focusing the format, new mixtape masters are on their way; likely declaring this #mygeneration.

Too Many Records – A Music Lover’s Journey To Cull A Physical Media Collection

Enough is enough, but how much is enough? 

Yes, dear reader, this is one question that most music-lovers cringe at responding to, for the common answer is that one can never have too many records. Yet, it’s fair to say that none of us wishes to become a hoarder, but the collections we cherish seem to have a mind of their own and expand, piece by piece, until we question how we obtained so many pieces of music that we need another trip to IKEA for more KALLAX and GNEDBY storage units because we’ve run out of space; a predicament I was recently facing. 

No matter how I rearranged the collection, I simply couldn’t fit the new arrivals, many purchased out of the fear of missing out (FOMO), due primarily to artificial rarities. Hence, if FOMO was partially responsible for getting me into this mess then would the minimalist mantra, less is more, shift my mindset and once again allow me to enjoy a physical music library consisting of only my favourite albums?

I had hoped so because as my music collection continued to grow, the joy and happiness I had once experienced started to wane. Instead, I began to feel anxiety and frustration. Streaming distracted me from the physical clutter, so all was not lost, but I quickly cluttered up the digital library with music that was enjoyable when I listened to it, but was far from memorable. It was the strangest thing and I couldn’t help but wonder if I was simply addicted to collecting the newest thing as my hobby moved, unintentionally, into monomania territory. 

Acknowledging these factors, I knew that it wasn’t only the physical library that needed to be culled, but the continually expanding digital library. In fact, it may not be an exaggeration when I suggest that digital clutter is now, and likely will continue to be, a far greater issue than the physical counterpart for it is largely invisible, especially if you stream; but that shall be the focus of a future feature article here at Subjective Sounds.

No matter which angle I approached this issue from, however, clutter itself got in the way of musical bliss and while I may be able to temporarily ignore digital clutter, the physical untidiness grew out of hand with a collection of Blu-ray Audio, SACD, and CD, along with vinyl, that numbered into the hundreds. Modest, by some collector’s standards, but excessive for mine. It wasn’t going to be, nor has it been an easy task, but as I continue to refine the collection, I’m once again finding joy and happiness in the music that has survived the cull. 

Initially, I had to decide which format/s should remain. This, of course, was challenging but the decision resulted in incredible freedom for I no longer needed to decide which format to purchase an album on. Yes, dear reader, I culled my entire collection down to a single physical format. I was tired of asking myself upon each purchase if the vinyl release was worth three times that of the CD or if the SACD was going to sound superior to both? In part, questions such as this drove me to a state of discontent. 

Even when I compared multiple copies of the same album, across different formats, unless there was a truly bad mastering, the differences were minimal and highly subjective, often dependent on the gear or merely how I was feeling on any given day. While masterings most certainly vary, depending on the format and style applied by the mastering engineer, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was experiencing confirmation bias as a result of a placebo effect. Even if I wasn’t, were the comparisons I was making amplifying psychological factors? 

While I can neither confirm nor deny these possibilities, the comparisons I was making delved me even further into the abyss as I began to focus on other aspects of my hobby. Yes, this is the moment when I declare that I once spent an entire weekend researching cables; RCA interconnects to be precise. For some unknown reason, I had made myself believe that I was missing out on sonic perfection and that better cables would transform my music listening experience. I had, of course, forgotten to ask myself if I was enjoying music on the existing interconnects, but by the time I was prepared to ask myself that very question, it was too late. I had purchased the replacement cables and went about installing them. Moments later, I cried. Not tears of joy because the music moved me so much more than before but because at that moment I realised that these new cables were neither quantifiably better or worse, just different. If I had to put a subjective spin on it, they sounded worse to me than the cables that I had been using for several years.

So what does an audiophile do? Yes, they, and I, assume the new cables need time to burn-in. Again, I can’t quantifiably offer a position on cable burn-in but I lean more to the assumption that over time you’ll grow accustomed to the change in sound. Two years on, from installing those cables, I’m still not overjoyed by the reproduction of the Compact Disc. I had considered updating the CD player, but the Oppo BDP-103 was no slouch when it came to other audio formats such as Blu-ray Audio and SACD. 

Granted, a dedicated CD player would be superior as I had found out many years ago while auditioning gear and comparing the multifaceted Oppo BDP-105 to the incredible Marantz SA8005, but I was too distracted with various formats to seriously consider the more humble, but equally expensive Marantz SA8005. It was at the same listening session that my dealer suggested that I should focus on a single format, and put all my effort, and as much as I could afford, into a single format in order to get the most enjoyment out of my collection and the components I was interested in purchasing. Exceptional advice, yes, but naturally I didn’t listen to him at the time. Almost seven years later his advice finally began to sink in. Truth be told, it had been percolating for years but I just wasn’t willing to accept that I couldn’t have it all; an unlimited music collection without restrictions. 

Despite growing up with the Compact Disc, I’ve always had an appreciation for the vinyl record and the culling of my collection came easily when out of nowhere, my Project Debut Carbon developed a hum throughout that required it to go in for service. It turned out to be a problem with the integrated circuit preamplifier and while it was repairable, I was naturally distraught. First world problems, I admit, but it had brought so much joy and happiness to me over the years and was a 10th-anniversary gift from my beloved and I simply couldn’t imagine being without it. To say I acted like a child with a broken toy would be an accurate, albeit embarrassing, assessment. What it did prove to me, however, was how important the turntable and the vinyl record was to my life. 

The CD and optical discs, in general, just weren’t as impactful. In a way, streaming, especially lossless CD-quality, has eroded the need for the optical disc container, but despite having a few releases that I cherished, for the most part, I was never truly satisfied with the overall sound reproduction of those silver discs. Of course, there isn’t a perfect format. Vinyl and streaming both have their flaws, but they feel, and more importantly, sound right to me. It is subjective, of course!

Although, IKEA was not going to get another KALLAX purchase out of me so I made the decision, at the same time, to cull my vinyl collection of those titles that were not memorable. If I couldn’t remember the songs off an album, or what type of music was on the record, then I reasoned that it should go. Naturally, I’d listen to the record before making a final decision, but in most cases, the album I pulled from the shelves was good, but not vinyl worthy in my new, well-curated, vinyl collection. The result is I now have a couple of empty cubes that can be repurposed for those new records that I will most certainly be picking up. 

I wasn’t, however, as deliberate with the optical discs. As I had decided to move away from the shiny disc formats, I made sure that those albums I was getting rid of were also available via Apple Music. Thankfully, that transition was rather easy as most were already in the virtual library and those that weren’t were easily added with Apple’s ‌iCloud‌ Music Library feature, ensuring that no song, or album, was left behind.

Collectors may ask if one can ever be truly satisfied with renting music vs owning and my answer is yes; especially when lossless streaming is now at our fingertips. Plus, it isn’t as if I’m not owning any music for my most treasured albums will remain on vinyl henceforth. The other thing I consciously do is download the lossless albums that are dear and near to me; not everything, of course. I do this because I know that despite being constantly connected to the Internet, things can go wrong and while no one likes buffering, it is an aspect that I can’t stand when out and about if I drop into a less than desirable service area. There is also a level of additional control to having the albums downloaded and that is you can guarantee that the version you’re listening to is the version you’ve downloaded. For instance, I was recently listening to a Dolby Atmos album via Apple Music and upon streaming the third track, I was delivered the CD-lossless edition instead. Frustrating, yes, but by downloading the album, I was then able to listen to every track in Dolby Atmos – I checked! A similar thing can happen with a lossless track being delivered as lossy if your connection isn’t perfect. The algorithm aims to never have the music stop, but that can cause fluctuations in quality. Hence, my recommendation is if you choose to go down this path, download the albums that you want, in the quality you desire, and then you’re set for uninterrupted listening as if you had the CD with you at all times. 

For those of you wondering, I utilised not only eBay but Discogs to cull the collection and priced the individual items at prices that were not only fair but what they were valued at. Unlike a similar binge, a couple of decades ago, I was fortunate to not require quick sales so I could hold out for other collectors that would cherish and add these formerly prized possessions to their collection. Of course, there were moments when the process was emotionally draining, for you’re giving up part of the collection you’ve worked on for years, but as more and more albums were sent out, freeing the physical space, the negativity that had once clouded my enjoyment began to lift and I was listening to music with renewed vigour knowing that I would only add those albums to my vinyl collection that I simply couldn’t live without; the ones that if the Internet stopped working tomorrow, and we were thrust back into the dark ages, would be essential listening. 

While the process is still ongoing, I’m no longer listening to music for impurities within formats but for the enjoyment that one is meant to feel when the combination of notes collectively touches one’s soul. Perhaps best of all, I adore my Project Debut Carbon with an Ortofon OM20 needle and am not at all interested in updating any aspect of my vinyl setup. It is my version of perfect and the sense of harmony I now feel cannot be understated. It won’t be enough for everyone, but I can now get back to enjoying the music, for that is all that matters.  

Music Isn’t Always The Universal Harmoniser

I like music, so do you, yet there are those who don’t find harmony in music. Without a doubt, it is a tangled web of subjective opinion, but what factors into our likes and dislikes? Could the inability to enjoy music, known formally as musical anhedonia, also account for our likes and dislikes of particular genres of music? Join me on this journey of discovery, dear reader, and we will find out together.

During the mid-1990s, as my interest in music was cultivating, I came across a band who I considered, at the time, to be has-beens. The Rolling Stones were old men, aged in their 50s, yet still unable to find satisfaction. The first time I recall hearing The Rolling Stones, I instantly disliked them and felt they had no musical talent to speak of. I certainly got no satisfaction from listening to their music and over the years I started to loathe them, maintaining that position for close to two decades. It wasn’t until their 50th Anniversary in 2012 that I decided to take a chance on their career perspective Grrr! release. In an interesting dichotomy, this release was the precursor to a deep appreciation of everything Rolling Stones. Yet, I’m unable to fully understand how this transformation occurred.

No doubt you’re already calculating a theory, perhaps one that is based on any number of stereotypes such as the age when our interest in discovering new music peaks. There are certainly some genres of music and musicians that can be pigeonholed into these theories, but it is often clichéd to the point of irrelevance. The idea that a younger listener can not appreciate classical music or jazz is absurd, as is the fact that a more mature individual will not find pleasure in the latest pop-sensation or boy band. If there is any truth to these stereotypical viewpoints then it doesn’t explain why classical and jazz music are not as mainstream as the pop/rock music, generated in the 60s, when The Rolling Stones first appeared on the scene. Also, while I acknowledge my own maturing and the fact that many of my interests have changed, I was well past the tumultuous teenage years yet still abhorred Mick Jagger’s gyrating performances and the often raw production values that made The Rolling Stones, The Rolling Stones.

Perhaps you’re thinking that musical likes and dislikes have to do with peer pressure and the need to be defined by a social identity. Plausible, yes, but I’d argue that for many music lovers, such as myself, who identify as being introverted, the appeal of one’s music tastes is aligned closer to an internal monologue and often void of peer influence and associated pressures. However, the socialist viewpoint validates peer pressure as being a key influence as it suggests the real value in music resides not with the individual, but the impact the music has on society and how one subsequently integrates into society.

“deriving pleasure from music can be limited or enhanced by everything from mood, to the weather, to the comfort of the human body”

— Steve Guttenberg

While a societal impact may be relevant, a study presented at the 9th International Conference on Music Perception and Cognition suggests ¹ that most people go through phases of liking particular genres, then growing weary of them, only to diverge and later reconnect with the particular genre of music. Interesting, yes, and that may appeal to my own situation should it be directed to the artist, rather than the genre, because I’ve always loved rock and roll, especially the Blues-based rock music at the core of The Rolling Stones sound. Of course, liking a genre doesn’t dictate that one will like all artists within that genre. It also fails to consider the implication of mood. Audiophile journalist, Steve Guttenberg, is somewhat agreeable proposing that deriving pleasure from music can be limited or enhanced by everything from mood, to the weather, to the comfort of the human body ^{2 & 3} . Surely not being in the mood couldn’t be the only reason for my lack of desire towards The Rolling Stones. Although, if intimacy after children is any indication, perhaps Guttenberg is onto something, even if it’s only the result of a placebo effect.

While I could continue to entertain the many plausible, and yet to be conclusively proven, theories, I do have to wonder if it’s not merely a case of experiencing musical anhedonia that caused my disinterest in The Rolling Stones so many years ago.

For the uninitiated, anhedonia was formally defined by the French psychologist, Théodule-Armand Ribot, as the inability to experience pleasure, in the late 19th century. While The American Heritage Dictionary of Medicine ⁴ is absolute in their aforementioned definition, a number of modern interpretations indicate anhedonia is less stringent, suggesting anhedonia signifies a decline in the capacity for one to experience or anticipate pleasure. It is this latter interpretation that we’ll concentrate on here as my possible experience of musical anhedonia, formerly specific musical anhedonia, is a subset of anhedonia and unrelated to melophobia. Interestingly, the father of psychoanalysis and psychotherapy, Sigmund Freud ⁵ , is said to have suffered melophobia as he would clasp his hands to his ears in the presence of music; out of fear.

Similarly, amusia is rarely associated with musical anhedonia, but I feel it can be ruled out as I don’t experience the inability to process pitch correctly. Amusia is said to affect about 4% of the population and is also associated with memory and recognition, especially following a stroke ⁶ , further adding the number of people who don’t find music to be a universal language.

“healthy people can suffer musical anhedonia and while they don’t find music pleasurable, they enjoy other rewarding stimuli.”

— 2014 study, Dissociation between Musical and Monetary Reward Responses in Specific Musical Anhedonia

Nevertheless, it’s important to note that musical anhedonia is only a relatively recent determination. In a 2014 study, Dissociation between Musical and Monetary Reward Responses in Specific Musical Anhedonia ⁷, it was found that healthy people can suffer musical anhedonia and while they don’t find music pleasurable, they enjoy other rewarding stimuli. This is, of course, in direct contrast to experiencing anhedonia. whereby no pleasure is felt, regardless of stimuli.

Co-author of the study, Josep Marco-Pallerés, believes that musical anhedonia could be linked to evolutionary changes as “music doesn’t offer access to biologically relevant advantages, unlike that of food or money.” While this may be a logical conclusion, based on the findings of the aforementioned study, Dr John Powell suggests the “brain doesn’t treat music any differently than it treats other audible sounds and that music is merely a series of sounds to be rapidly processed ⁸.” Interestingly, another 2011 study indicates that selective loss of emotional experience in listening to music can also occur without any disturbance to other musical or neuropsychological abilities ⁹. Such a finding indicates that a musician, for instance, could still perform their art but the selective impairment of musical anhedonia would result in an inability to find pleasure in the music. The interpretation of music in the mind is clearly fascinating and not yet fully understood, hence one has to wonder if those experiencing musical anhedonia have not evolved to be indifferent towards sound as the natural fight or flight response remains somewhat dormant in first-world societies. Of course, this is yet another theory, one of my own devising, but Marco-Pallerés does suggest “further sub-developments of musical anhedonia are probable.”

“it is estimated that around 3 to 5 percent of the world’s population suffers musical anhedonia.”

— José Ramón Alonso

Regardless, those that experience musical anhedonia simply derive no pleasure from music. Allison Sheridan is one such person who finds music both “boring and distracting”. Appearing on the Systematic podcast ¹⁰, Sheridan elaborates by saying, “It isn’t that I dislike music per se, but that I feel indifferent about it.” It’s important to note that Sheridan isn’t alone as it is estimated that around 3 to 5 percent of the world’s population suffers from this condition ¹¹. While that may seem minuscule, that percentage amounts to hundreds of millions of people who don’t derive pleasure from music. Of course, as Sheridan rightly states, “the only real suffering is the mockery from other people as they simply don’t understand how I can’t love music because the notion is that everybody loves music. People always try to change my mind by suggesting music they like which I find really interesting.”

While musical anhedonia is a legitimate neurological condition, the individual experiences no effects, other than indifference, to their personality or way of life. Sheridan isn’t depressed, nor does she lack other emotional elements or empathy. While some studies have provided evidence linking depression and anhedonia ¹², the subset of musical anhedonia is uniquely different as those who experience it find pleasure in all other aspects of life. Whereas, if one were experiencing traditional anhedonia, they would experience no pleasure at all, from any stimuli. It’s a small, but significant difference.

With this in mind, I can’t help but wonder if musical anhedonia can be a learned trait; perhaps even an adopted one. David Cope, a musicology professor, looked at the subjective emotional element in his Experiments in Musical Intelligence ¹³. The audience initially praised the stirring performance, explaining how it had touched their innermost being, only to be dismayed with glum silence and bouts of anger when told it was composed free of human interaction by an advanced computer algorithm. These participants clearly allowed their subjectivity to influence their likes and dislikes, and while musical anhedonia is the indifference of emotion, the fact that one can change their mind so quickly raises the possibility that Marco-Pallerés is correct when suggesting that future studies may yield a conglomerate of sub-definitions of musical anhedonia; perhaps in looking not only at the response to the listening process but to the interpretation if one is aware of the creator of such music, in this case, David Cope’s advanced algorithmic computer.

Adopted or not, the perspective of those who experience musical anhedonia is insightful, especially if one were to live vicariously through their thoughts. I, and perhaps you dear reader, can only marvel at the silence, for music is neither in the foreground or background. The fridge hums while the air conditioner rumbles. The birds are squawking in the distance while a chainsaw is grinding through their home in a neighbour's yard. A car has driven past and I’m left with my thoughts. I am not unhappy with the silence, I’m quite content in fact. It’s peaceful as music can be a distraction, but it is also lonely and absent of emotion. Those who experience musical anhedonia don’t have the same longing for emotional input, via music, as I do. I want to feel the hairs rise on the back of my neck when listening to Beethoven’s 5th, I want to sense the smoke-filled nightclub where Vince Jones is jazzing it up, and I want to be in the front seat of my own personal concert with Deep Purple as they rocked Japan in 1972. However, most importantly, I want to feel the music. I want to connect with it and make it my own. Cherish it and rejoice in the magic that it brings. For this music lover, silence is akin to a siesta, it resets the mind, but can only be tolerated for so long.

Of course, it’s important to remember that neither the music-lover nor the experiencer of musical anhedonia is superior to one another. They are, in essence, one and the same as they garner pleasure from life, just different aspects of life. Therefore, the next time a friend says they’re not really into music, consider not isolating them further by recommending your favourite artist. Try instead to connect with what brings them pleasure for musical anhedonia is currently the only subset of anhedonia and there is little doubt you will find as much pleasure in another activity as they will.

As for me, well you may recall that I not only disliked The Rolling Stones but loathed them. Thankfully, my emotive response has flipped but my initial impassioned standpoint is hardly the trademark of one who experiences an indifference towards music. That said, it isn’t outside of the realm of possibility that additional studies into musical anhedonia may uncover additional insights into one’s likes and dislikes. Until then, my own emotive responses to music remain as elusive as ever and in some ways, I admire the absoluteness that musical anhedonia delivers to those who experience it.

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References

1. Costa, M., Baroni, M., Addessi, A. and Caterina, R. (2006). 9. International Conference on music perception and cognition. Bologna: Bononia University Press, pp.960-966.

2. Guttenberg, S. (2018). This Magic Moment. [online] Stereophile.com. Available at: https://www.stereophile.com/content/magic-moment [Accessed 1 Jan. 2020].

3. Steve Guttenberg Audiophiliac (2018). One day system sounds great, next day meh. Why?. [video] Available at: https://youtu.be/jHelEOHjtH4 [Accessed 1 Jan. 2020].

4. Anhedonia. (2015). In: The American Heritage Dictionary of Medicine, 2nd ed. [online] Houghton Mifflin Publishing Company, p.52. Available at: https://search-credoreference-com.ezproxy.lib.swin.edu.au/content/title/hmmedicaldict?tab=entries&page=52 [Accessed 20 Jul. 2018].

5. Diamond, S. (2018). Why We Love Music—and Freud Despised It. [online] Psychology Today. Available at: https://www.psychologytoday.com/au/blog/evil-deeds/201211/why-we-love-music-and-freud-despised-it [Accessed 22 Jul. 2018].

6. Hirel, C., Mechtouff, L., Derex, L. and Nighoghossian, N. (2014). Acquired amusia and musical anhedonia. Revue Neurologique.

7. Mas-Herrero, E., Zatorre, R., Rodriguez-Fornells, A. and Marco-Pallarés, J. (2014). Dissociation between Musical and Monetary Reward Responses in Specific Musical Anhedonia. Current Biology, 24(6), pp.699-704.

8. Powell, D. (2016). Why we love music. London: John Murray Publishers.

9. Satoh, M., Nakase, T., Nagata, K. and Tomimoto, H. (2011). Musical anhedonia: Selective loss of emotional experience in listening to music. Neurocase, 17(5), pp.410-417.

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Music Doesn’t Make Sense, Yet It Makes Perfect Sense.

We sit and listen while appreciating the artwork and liner notes as we relax. We listen during daily commutes. We use it as background noise, when performing mundane tasks, as a form of escapism. We make love to it and dance the first dance, to a song, that will forever be associated with a single moment in time. In fact, we do very little without music.

For many of us, music is as essential as oxygen and water. Silence is deadening by comparison and is vacant of all human connection. Music is the unseen, but heard, link that connects us with other humans; the musicians.

Music rises above social divides and can be used as a social movement to invoke discussion and change. It is powerful, yet peaceful in its directness. Music is like no other human creation. It is as unique as every living being, yet it bridges the gaps between people and culture, all whilst remaining subjective to the individual.

Music is empowering as it gives us confidence to overcome adversity and anxiety. It is through this subjectivity that we can begin to define ourselves. Not by race and nationality, but by our individualism through music.

Subjective Sounds is about you and me and our appreciation for music that determines who we have been, who we are, and who we will become. As you listen to the music that captures your soul, come across to the blog and see the music I’m listening to. I’d love to hear your thoughts and suggestions for artists to check out.

Remember, as you groove to your own subjective beat, someone else is also listening to that song or album. Music doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care for skin colour. It doesn’t care for language, religious beliefs, or social conventions. It merely exists to bring pleasure and deliver a story through song. It gives us so much, yet demands nothing in return.

Subjective Sounds wishes to introduce, perhaps reintroduce, and share the music that has become part of our collective culture. I will begin with my subjective musical tastes and I implore you to join in the conversation and share your own music passions. It doesn’t matter how or when you consume music, all that matters is that music touches your soul and encourages you to move your body unintentionally to the beat.