On Physical Media

Victoria shared a link to an NPR podcast episode called “Physical Media We Still Treasure”. I happened to be looking for something I could listen to on my lunchtime walk yesterday so I tuned in. And it got me thinking.

I love that analog has been making a comeback. Books are beautiful things and can be works of art in their own right.^[1] As licensed radio amateur of 40 years, I have a strong affinity for analog radio and an appreciation for tube (rather than “solid state”) audio amplifiers. Who doesn’t have a certain nostalgic fondness for the scritch-scratch sound of vinyl records? Although I myself identify more closely with the era of the audiocassette. I remember videotapes—both VHS and the less popular but superior Beta formats.

Later, digital alternatives came and made the analog forerunners seem inferior. CDs replaced our cassettes and LPs. Smaller and slimmer DVDs gradually took over the shelves where our videotapes had been. But the physical experience remained.

I still use wood pencils—I have a soft spot for Blackwings—so I certainly appreciate the tangible physical connection we make when we enjoy these physical interactions, whether analog or digital.

But here’s the thing. I’m all for the “analog experience” but it’s just not for me any more.^[2] I see it as a choice between a set of As and Bs, of “on one hand” and “but on the other hand” comparisons.

Take, for example, the contrast between quality and convenience. On one hand, a 128-bit AAC digital recording just doesn’t measure up to a multitrack tape or 33⅓ RPM long play. On the other hand, the convenience of a thousand songs in your pocket is hard to beat.

Right now today, I choose the thousand songs.

Here’s another one: I am not an avid collector, but I know people who are. They have a passion for antique glass, or vintage fountain pens, or handcrafted fishing lures. They collect with intention the things they value. I, on the other hand, merely accumulate “stuff” that ends up contributing to clutter. I don’t have a passion for first pressings of Santana LPs, I just like to listen to Abraxas once in a while.

I am at the point in my life at which I’m trying hard to reduce clutter. I want to retire soon and travel.

Here’s the last thing. I once held onto the certainty that I needed to own my own copy of an album or movie or TV show. Ownership means permanence: I can keep it forever!

Except it doesn’t!

We replaced our LPs and 8-tracks with CDs. We replaced our VHS tapes with DVDs. It was an expensive lesson in impermanence, which is the lens I use to view this now. It is more important to me to experience and enjoy the thing than it is to own the thing. I avail myself of it when it is before me, and celebrate the fact that I did when it is not.

This all makes me sound old (I am) and maybe it makes me sound wise (I most certainly am not), but either way I’m content.

And that’s enough.