Something strange has been happening all of this month. I’ve been feeling very young all of a sudden — to be fair, I’m only 30, which isn’t all that old to begin with (30 is the new 20, which is the new 10, which is the new zero). Every day, I’ve been picking out a new album from thin air to listen to and just letting it settle into me. It’s a pure kind of joy, the kind that becomes increasingly harder to come by with each passing year.
The reason behind this recalibrated approach to music is a thing that happens on Twitter called #MWE, or Hashtag Music Writer Exercise. Conceived (and curated) by New York-based music journalist Gary Suarez, #MWE is an annual affair that lasts all of February. Suarez asks people — not just writers, anyone with an interest — to, listen to an album they’ve never heard before, each day, from start to finish, and then write exactly one tweet about it. He also urges people to listen to music by people of colour and women. It seems simple enough.
And I’ve been doing it diligently: seeking out lists online for an album that I might find interesting or asking for recommendations; then trying to see if it’s available on Bandcamp or Soundcloud to stream legally, or moving on to the grey-area legality of YouTube streams, before the decision to either buy the album or download it through more dishonourable means has to be made. Then I go through my day to see where I can fit in the 30-60 minutes of an album without interruption.
Extended play
When I was younger, with considerably less aesthetic baggage, I used to be a glutton for new music. This was the early 2000s, and I was on a mission to listen to as much as I could. I was an empty slate, trying out all kinds of hats to see which ones fit best and throwing away with disdain the ones that didn’t. It was an exciting time.
I’d unplug my family’s landline wire and plug it into the computer. Then I’d do that thing where you call on 172226 and wait for the blip-bloopy modem sounds to happen. I’d open Internet Explorer and just read about whatever kind of music I was interested in at the time. Then I’d indulge in some old-fashioned “P2P sharing”: Napster, Audiogalaxy, Limewire; you know the drill. Another ritual was visiting brick-and-mortar music stores, back when they were a thing. I’d go once a month and use my parents’ money to buy as many tapes/CDs as they’d let me. And then I’d get to them one at a time, spending time with each, slowly growing to love or hate each song.
I’m not glorifying my own youth but the idea of youth itself. People used to discover things on the radio (I did a few times too) or on TV, or they’d listen on those giant discs apparently known as vinyl or they’d trade mixtapes.
Concerted effort
I’d sort of assumed that that phase of my life was over — a period now consigned to the garbage bin called “nostalgia”. That once the real world began, I really wouldn’t have the time or, more importantly, the enthusiasm to explore music that meticulously. We are, thanks to the times we live in, a jaded generation, so it’s easy to simply stick to what you like and step out of that comfort zone only occasionally.
But this month-long #MWE online activity (which I’m doing for the second year running) has made me realise that there’s just so much content out there to consume, so much of it free, that we end up adopting a closed-off approach to new works.
The unbridled pleasure that comes from exploring unknown worlds becomes less important, simply because it takes time and effort to wade through obstacles both internal and external before you can find something that works for you. Belatedly though, I’m realising that those obstacles are artificial; opening yourself up to new experiences requires commitment and discipline, but those are small sacrifices for the rewards that lie in wait.
Art, by its very design, demands a certain degree of effort. You have to be willing to go through the grind, to put yourself out there, to truly connect with a work. This concept is often lost these days, because of how we’re swamped by an overwhelming amount of visual and aural stimuli. We’re forever resorting to the cheap laugh, the easy watch, the quick listen. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But running parallel to disposable content is an underlying need to feel something deeper and more profound. Sometimes, all it takes is a fun little hashtag to dig a little deeper.
