I recently wrote about “Cloud Computing” and was both castigated and encouraged. Warren thinks I should give up on physical media, but didn’t offer me a suggestion about my interest in music and / or films. Jim has a good idea for music storage, but his plan is dependant on Mac products, which I consider to be as fallible as any other electronic goods.
I like the zen of Warren’s “Just give up” strategy, but…my interest in recorded music extends to some physical aspects of the packaging, too – the aesthetics of printing / paper over a period of decades, from a variety of countries. Watashi wa kami no otaku desu = I am a paper freak. Nothing on Earth smells like a carton of freshly opened LP’s from Toshiba Japan. What was in the LP cover glue in Europe in the 1970’s? Who invented Clarifoil lamination in England?
So, all the music is now on a cloud or some delicately chained together preparation of electronic products. I want to see the packaging, so I Google it. Should I start the website where I discuss exclusively the aesthetics of paper freakage, as regards phonograph records? I’ll need a better camera…and a rostrum!
Does my tale continue into the century with physical specimens or am I stupid, and should just attempt to upload “my experience” onto the internet? Am I foolish for buying archival cartons for the nicer pieces? All this stuff I’ve hoarded not worth anything? Can’t I be considered like the guy who wants to save birds about to become extinct? The 20th century “music package” guy? A paradigm shift over to replicant-style experience?
I see. I’ll be the sad old guy who sits with his collection in a house in California. The Dead Sea Scrolls filling the rooms of my home. In 25 years, someone from the local newspaper website will come knocking on my door, “Are you the old coot who has all the old music?” – Yes, I’m that guy. “Do you live here all alone?” Yes, I drove all the others away, by my insistence that there was…no other way. “Why do you care about old music?” – It was part of my experience, mostly in the 20th century. I like this music.
So, they leave. Their website has a photo of me, sitting amidst all my cartons of decomposing paper and plastic. Someone I went to school with 65+ years ago recognizes me, and tries to find me. Dozens offer their help, mostly on the community forum. I get a message from some guy at a college somewhere. They have a 20th Century Music lab set up.
“Sorry, I can’t travel to Colorado. I have never been able to do the elevation”, I tell him. “They have pills for that now”, I am told. “I’ve had ‘em before, they just make me sleepy”, I say.
When I die, the garbage collectors (the highest paid public servants) come in, pick up all my “garbage”, and bulldoze my home, now state / city / county owned.