As a teenager, music was really important to me. It was my refuge—a huge and multicolored world of rebellion, sexuality, and spiritual and political transformation. From the safety of my bedroom, I experienced the greatness that was Rock in the 1970s. I took pride in my knowledge of popular music that mattered. This era, and the sense of wonder and discovery that I felt while listening to this music, were perfectly captured in the coming-of-age movie, Almost Famous (2000).
As I got older, I devoted less time to musical interests. I got married, started my career, and generally got busier. Thanks to college radio and some good local acts, I did keep in touch with some exciting new music—but in general I became more disconnected from the music scene, feeling my age as I failed to recognize the new music that streamed out at me from radios, movies and public places. As a teenager I was a music snob, taking pity on lesser mortals who filled their lives with the shallow, inferior pop music being hawked by the media conglomerates. But one day I woke up and realized that I was out of touch, that my former position as savvy music lover had given way to nostalgia and “classic rock” radio on the way to work. Looking back, I pretty much slept though the emergence of Rap, Hip Hop, and Electronica. A whole new generation of performers was unknown to me. By the time I heard about Napster, and understood what it could do, it was in the process of being shut down.
So what was I to do? I disliked much of the new music I was hearing on the radio. When I did go to the record store I was confronted with a huge body of music I knew little about. In-store music merchandising had become slicker, making me feel less at home. I even had trouble figuring out which categories a lot of music belonged in (and I was a professional librarian!). Wading through the bins was not working for me.
Then one day at work a friend told me about a new Internet service called LAUNCHcast—which allows users to rate music and receive a personalized music stream based on their preferences. This music experience went far beyond the boundaries of what I was used to on commercial radio. LAUNCHcast allowed me to subscribe to other listener’s “stations” if I liked their taste. It was free and smart, and most importantly it put me in the driver’s seat.
I could enjoy it right at work, thanks to my company’s broadband connection. No muss, no fuss. No schlepping to the record store. Here I could make my comeback to informed fandom from the comfort and privacy of my own cube.
Thus began my realization that the Internet could help me get back in the game. Although I didn’t have the time and energy to pursue new music as I did as a teenager, the new tools made it so much easier to discover and listen to good new music—that I could cover more ground than I ever did before. Hallelujah!
As a corporate librarian, well versed in the power of online databases and search engines, I knew how to assess online tools and make them serve my needs. As new Internet-based services came online, I found more ways to turbo-charge my music discovery process. Contrary to what I thought before—there are lots of good recordings being released. Beyond the wasteland of commercial radio and mass marketed “star” artists lie rich fields of vital, vibrant music—largely invisible to the masses—but easily found if you have the right tools.
As I started doing research for this book, and began using more of the new Internet music services, something else dawned on me. Huge libraries of music were suddenly available to me—collections that dwarfed the best record collections of my dreams. I began exploring music in ways that I never had before. Then it became clear to me. A new era for music fans has begun.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank the people who reviewed the manuscript and provided helpful suggestions and feedback: Rick Lugg, Harlen Welsh, Scott McGrath, Renee Moelders, and Jeff Hamill. Thanks also to my wife Anne, whose support and feedback has been crucial in moving this project forward.
