Version 3.0

For those of you that have traveled to this new home from another site, I appreciate your understanding. I’m fairly confident that Glam-Racket is hidden enough that the savvy computer literates from my past (read: the uninvited) won’t be able to bother me here, unless they decide to pursue a full-time job pursing my on-line musings.
It’s sad, really, and I feel a tad pretentious notifying a select few saying “Hey, if you want to check out my writ, come to this site” because, like I’ve said before, it’s not really about you. No offense, but I’ll write about what I want and do it within the time frequency that is allowed to me. At the same time, I do occasionally produce the obligatory personal-life rants, which gives me a certain amount of sanity and you a glimpse into a world of mine that is, suffice to say, fairly mundane and boring.

To that end, I’m a fairly simple person; there are times that I like nothing better to do than just listen to music. It’s been with me since, literally, I was two years old. Essentially, I was left to my own devices as an only child and in that solitude I found music. Some of you know this story already and some of you may be thinking that I’m playing some kind of “tale ‘o woe” card here. I’m not. Rock and roll has served me fairly well as I firmly believe that I have learned more from record grooves, magnetic tapes, aluminum discs and computer music files than any other source.
Because of this passion, I am very opinionated about music and enjoy a good argument every now and then. I like talking about it in great detail just as I used to read in great detail every record label, liner note and lyric sheet that came my way. It’s completely wrong in some ways and irrational in others, but you can fight nearly four decades worth of habit.
Which leads me to a fear that I have: Someday, I won’t be able to have tangible items that hold music. I understand and partake in downloads and I understand the current trend in music listening device. But I’m scared that at some point my own preferred format will be deemed to be obsolete. It’s not even about the format, really, just the idea that a little piece of art that an artist has created won’t contain the same meaning as what I’m accustomed to now. That is: the label, the artwork, the sequencing, the information, the entire package. I feel a little gypped with downloads and equate them to the same feeling I had when someone dubbed of an album for me on a Maxell XL-II 90 minute cassette. And like those times, if someone gives me (or if I download) and entire album that I end up really enjoying, I’ll probably get a copy for myself down the road. It’s fairly stupid as record company’s probably love me for re-buying the same stuff over and over again, and I completely know that if the music industry ever came up with a “new and improved” format that I’d probably do it all over again and be stuck with thousands of virtually worthless compact discs that don’t hold a fraction of the price that they once had.
The thing is: I don’t see an “improved” format coming around. What I do see is a large group of younger music fans that don’t give a shit about the packaging, the sequencing, etc., and as a result, can’t “get” where I’m coming from. It’s automatic delivery, baby, and being the first kid on the block to have a leaked copy of a new album is more credible than actually knowing the words, the producer, the studio it was recorded in, and if the songs belong to B.M.I. or A.S.C.A.P.
I can’t fathom an environment where my shit is “stored” on a flash card that I bring over to someone’s house and plug it into a USB port or something. I’m sure I’ll acquiesce if I’m forced to, but the gratification will be lost. And, to put it into relative terms, the idea that I only have snapshots of these “friends” instead of having the real thing present is a very troubling thing for me.