I often find myself telling people that we are in transition. It’s no great revelation, I realize. But our sense of it is quite strong these days, perhaps stronger than it’s been in a great while. No one is sure where we’re headed (of course) but things are looking brighter every day (Jan. 20 should feel rather bright, indeed). And, in spite of my many concerns (over-consumption, over-stimulation, over-distraction, etc.), I’m hoping the future of music is bright as well. No one holds the crystal ball, but many of us are trying to make some solid guesses.
The other day, I met with my friend Maggie Vail, who is the vice president of the longtime and Portland-based 
independent record label Kill Rock Stars, to share some thoughts on the fate of music, particularly where independent artists and labels are concerned. “I wish I knew because then I’d have a future,” she said looking a bit grim. “I’m not so sure about the survival of the indie label. Everything is so different now. Music is an absolute luxury. You don’t have to buy it—it’s an option.”
Clearly, the Internet as a new dimension in which we partially exist has changed everything. It has granted us access to most any music we wish to hear, and, in many instances, we may hear it for free, with little risk and with the instant ability to dispose of it and replace it, at will. “The way people consume music makes for higher turnovers—bands come and go so fast now,” Vail said. “People race through music, clear the iPod and start over.”
Online, it seems, music is but another sound in our noisy culture; another form of entertainment in our myriad of options (video games, social networking, etc.), and, too often, music is the soundtrack to the onslaught of advertisements we face each day. “The No. 1 thing that sells a band right now is an iPod commercial,” admits Vail, reluctantly. “New bands have to make music now just through advertising. It’s not about the music itself—it’s about using music to sell things to people and it infuriates me.”
Still, despite our continued plunge into consumerist-oriented lifestyles, the cream, we hope, will continue to rise to the surface. Amid the rising noise of technology, great music and art, we hope, will prevail; even if that means our channels to reach it have shifted.
“A new concept for artists might be a website that is like a perfect mix of MySpace, Facebook and YouTube where the user is paid to put up music so the user earns a portion, the label earns a portion and the artists earns a portion. It’s like having a street team, only it’s online,” explains Vail, making, I think, a savvy and solid guess at the future of music.
Our experience of music, within the realm of technology, is changing, no doubt, but we hope it’s merely a new version of the same—a virtual version of record shopping, mix making and flyer stapling. We hope music’s power to rouse, to stir, to move and to reach us in deep places will remain timeless, unaffected by our plethora of high tech toys, untainted by our consumptive lust, rising above the noise of modernity to prove that it, music, is worth more than most anything else. At least—amid all the grim talk of loss and sacrifice I hear as I delve into thesis work—that’s what I’m hoping.
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