Steven Spielberg and Tom Cruise, listen up. Here�s a movie pitch: The year is 2025. A mysterious illness afflicts the recently retired, who rise up from their La-Z-Boys and wander aimlessly in streets, malls and parks. Hospitals are inundated by agonized senior citizens, stooped, groaning and complaining of excruciating shoulder and neck pain. The World Health Organization convenes an unprecedented emergency session, at which renowned physicians opine about the cause of the pandemic.
All agree. It�s PBBBS, Post-Baby Boom Boombox Syndrome. Forty years after those retirees walked the walk with gigantic radios hoisted upon their shoulders, blaring Run-DMC, Night Ranger and the �Breakin� 2: Electric Boogaloo� soundtrack, the muscles they abused so callously revolt, constrict and shrivel, leaving them as crooked and twisted as an Enron executive.
Absurd? Certainly. Poignant? Perhaps. The point is, what passed as a portable music player just 20 years ago is now the stuff of science fiction parody. And the overall thesis of our cinematic proposal is even more profound: Digital technology has revolutionized how we regard music � the way we record it, buy it, sell it, listen to it, watch it, share it, tote it, store it, edit it, stylize it. Digital has transformed music into a chic glue that bonds tech-savvy artists and consumers with speed, ever-increasing options, and a sense of community and empowerment.
Despite all the hype, do we really know what digital technology is, let alone how it works? It�s like Coca-Cola: Most humans have heard of it and used it, but only a select few are privy to 7X, the drink�s legendary secret formula. So, let�s deconstruct our subject.
According to Digital-Recordings.com, digital is the representation of a quantity in numerical form, namely, 1s and 0s, while analog, digital�s largely pass� counterpart, means a continuous physical quantity. To digitize is to convert an analog physical quantity into a numerical value. The process for digitally coding sound by computer was developed by Max Mathews of Bell Telephone Laboratories in Murray Hill, N.J., in 1957, and it hasn�t changed much since then: Sound, in the form of an analog wave, is picked up by a microphone or other interface and processed by an analog-to-digital converter (ADC), which transforms the wave into a stream of numbers and records those numbers instead of the wave. To play the recording, the stream of numbers is changed back into an analog wave by a digital-to-analog converter (DAC). As long as the sequence of 1s and 0s is not corrupted, the recording will sound exactly the same every time it�s played. Pretty nifty.
Today, it�s tough to find anything in music, movies and communications that isn�t perched on a branch in digital technology�s family tree. Oh, sure, there are legions of the analog faithful, those who spin vinyl records on turntables or swear by their VCRs, but most can�t be bothered with anything so quaint. And though LPs are still pressed, VHS tapes are still spooled and we can find other anachronistic media for sale, as we�ll see, everyone from professional musicians to DJs to soccer moms is swinging with the one-two punch of 0�1 and putting 20th-century technology down for the count.
Japan has for years been the epicenter of consumer electronics innovation. Sony quite literally turned the world on its ear when it introduced the TPS-L2 Walkman in July of 1979. In October 1982, the venerable electronics company debuted the CDP-101, the world�s first commercial CD player (which retailed for almost $900). Since then, Japan has been the launching pad for innumerable cutting-edge digital and digital-friendly products, including the first MiniDiscs and MD players (1991), the first DVDs and DVD players (1996) and the first DVD recorders (1999).
What better place, then, than Tokyo to go hunting for anecdotes about the current state of affairs in digital technology and music? Our tour steps off with COLDFEET, a duo that�s enjoyed success as a recording and live act, producers and songwriters. Lori Fine, a native of Portland, Ore., sings, plays keyboards and writes the tunes; Watusi, who hails from TK, plays bass and guitar, produces dozens of artists and is a hot DJ commodity on the Tokyo club circuit. They do most of their recording and mixing at Watusi�s Rinky Dink studio, but have logged hours farther afield, in London, Seoul and Morocco. Both are enthusiastic about the impact digital technology has had on music-making.
�It makes the recording and mixing processes easier and faster,� Watusi says. �You also need to have more imagination when you�re using digital, because digital only does what you request it to do. There are no surprises with digital.�
Fine, who does her composing at home using a keyboard, a multi-track recorder (MTR), a mic and a CD recorder, says digital helps keep tracks clean and organized. �Vocals can easily be tweaked in the studio now, so if you get a really good take � if the delivery/nuance of the take is really good � but the pitch is a bit off, you can fix it fairly seamlessly. Also, you can copy and paste sections of backing vocals and not have to re-record each part per chorus.�
Watusi and Fine say digital has enhanced the studio dynamic, especially in today�s world of super-produced, super-slick music. �For example,� Fine explains, �with Enya or any other vocalist that uses layers of backing vocals, which is practically all of the R&B world, all the vocals can be edited so breaths, beats, words � everything � are perfectly aligned to get a lush, polished sound.�
�Digital technology has made the process of making music such so that you don�t have to worry about smaller details,� Watusi concludes. �The computer can take care of those things.�
After even a glance at today�s technology headlines, you�d think that any talk of digital having faults or being anything less than the savior of music would be regarded as sedition. Musicians, producers and engineers shouldn�t bite the digits that feed them, and consumers should be thankful for their MP3 players and Internet downloads, right? Well, it seems that there are some concerns about digital technology among artists and studio personnel. But these people aren�t heretical � it turns out they�re simply nostalgic.
Satoshi �Bashico� Kobayashi works at Rinky Dink and tours Japan as a DJ. (He�s even done two solo tours of America.) He says digital technology in the studio sometimes causes headaches.
�As for computer-based production, we are under the nightmare of lots of periodic software and [operating system] updates,� he explains. �Sometimes, the updates create problems: If you update your OS, some software won�t run. So we have to take special care to make sure everything�s a match.�
Fine joins Bashico�s chorus: �It�s a pain to have data from old machines and have no way to access it on new ones, not to mention that it�s expensive to have to keep updating.�
The singer also makes the surprising observation that analog recording processes resulted in a more vigorous creative process. With analog, she recalls, �there were more rules and what you could do was limited, so you had to be more experimental to get something interesting. Because you had to record everything and do everything �by hand,� you made more mistakes; ultimately, the coolest things come from mistakes. But if nothing cool is happening, analog can just be tedious.�
Another surprise: Pros pine for analog � and they�re on missions to stockpile all the retro equipment they can get their hands on. �I�ve heard [many engineers] talking about how everyone is always on the Internet searching out equipment from the past; that those old sounds were the best sounds,� Fine says. The engineers also �spend a lot of time turning knobs on their new equipment, trying to get it to sound like the old equipment.
�In other words, the new technology is speedier, but the older sounds were better. So what they seem to end up doing is having a process of using new equipment to try to mimic old sounds. Almost any studio I go to, the engineers are showing off their �antique� machines.�
Watusi evens out the argument, though, stating that digital has more pros than cons. �I do miss the looks and the presence of analog, and there was more inspiration from getting a surprise sound. But you can feel the possibilities of digital copying the best aspects of analog. With analog, you need a lot of space. But for digital, it�s all in the computer, so you save space. Also, analog equipment got very hot, not to mention that it was very heavy. Digital is just faster and easier.�
Thirty years ago, music fans looked agog at pictures of their favorite artists sitting behind the consoles of their own custom-made basement studios. Indeed, back when the walls of Abbey Road, The Record Plant, Electric Lady and The Hit Factory were lined with more gold and platinum than Lil Jon�s front teeth, nothing said a musician had arrived more than having a studio built in the basement of his mansion. It was the ultimate status symbol in music circles, a testament to wealth, fame and devotion to one�s craft � if not excess and frivolity.
Today, home studios, though still a benchmark of success, are at once de rigueur and demystified. Sure, Usher might be able to whip up a hot snack in his gourmet kitchen then walk downstairs to whip up a hot track in his home studio, but when he does, he�s really not doing anything that a college freshman can�t do in his dorm room while heating up some ramen noodles on a hotplate.
Josh Singer, bass player for The Vampyre Bunnies, a Washington, D.C.-based quartet that plays what he slyly characterizes as �New York City mid-�70s rock�n�roll,� says that computer programs such as Apple�s Garage Band have made it relatively simple � and inexpensive � for musicians of any ilk or inclination to get their music out to the public.
�My dad is a percussion player,� Singer says during an interview at his full-time job as an information systems manager at a custom publishing company. �In the �70s, he would take me into New York City, and they�d do jingle dates [for] commercial advertising. I�d go into the control room, and that�s a multi-million-dollar recording facility with banks of big computers and machines. And most of that power, I�ve got on my desktop now. So, [digital technology] has reduced the cost of recording from the hundreds of thousands of dollars to the hundreds. It�s great.�
Singer�s home studio features an electric guitar, a MIDI � that�s musical instrument digital interface � keyboard, a microphone with a stand, a USB interface device, the Garage Band software and, naturally, a computer. With this relatively no-frills, inexpensive rig, he can plug in and record whenever the muse is upon him. By adding drums and a rhythm section from the software�s considerable library of sounds, or using the program to tweak guitar and keyboard qualities, Singer can record an entire song. No expensive studio time to pay for, no time wasted sitting in traffic, no interruptions to break his train of thought.
Digital technology is versatile enough, Singer says, that bands have a lot more leeway to develop songs � and they don�t even have to be in the same room. For example, Vampyre Bunnies vocalist Jamie Holiday will produce a CD of himself playing basic guitar tracks and singing. He�ll do this at a professional studio, then ask Singer to toy around with the cuts. �He�d give me the CD of what he�s done already; I can load that onto my computer � and add tracks on top of that. Then I can export the tracks I�ve created and save those on a different disc.� Singer completes the process by giving his disc to Holiday, who will take the new tracks back to the studio and �lay them on in a professional manner.�
�It saves an enormous amount of time and money,� Singer explains, �because the alternative would be for me to go to the studio. And as soon as you start recording, they charge you by the hour or by the minute. So I can play for hours at home, and when I finally get what I want, I�ve done half the work; then the professional studio can take care of the rest.�
They say the fittest shall survive. Though Ashlee Simpson�s ascent to Billboard�s No. 1 position is a compelling argument to the contrary, this mantra of the natural world definitely applies to the music business, and digital technology has created a new breed of performer. In the good ol� days, a band cut its teeth and fine-tuned its tunes in a jungle of clubs and bars, one goal being to gather enough cash to buy some studio time to record a demo tape to shop around to record labels. If the product was good enough, maybe the music would find an audience and the band would live to see another day. Most groups, however, didn�t flourish.
Digital technology has changed all this and intensified the dog-eat-dog nature of the business of making music. It�s internalized it too. If you don�t have the chops � which include recording, promotion and distribution capabilities � the system won�t even bother to chew you up and spit you out: You�ll simply be ignored. Aspiring musicians who don�t invest the time to learn how to use the modern tools of the trade are doomed from the start.
�I think it�s changed the entire dynamic of how bands at the small level actually work,� Singer says. �The problem is, since everyone�s doing it on the computer now, and it sounds so good, it�s also raised the bar. There�s no tolerance for lousy recordings anymore. You�re expected to have a really decent recording right out of the box.�
For instance, with Garage Band and other inexpensive recording programs, a band can produce a demo that�s good enough to send to clubs to get gigs. For something more serious, such as a polished selection of tunes to send to record labels, �I�d want to go up a few more steps on the ladder and use a more sophisticated recording package,� Singer says. �Still, the tools are there that someone clever enough can eke out an awful lot, squeeze out a lot of juice out of a $50 program. Garage Band really fills a niche for the young, aspiring musician.�
Natural selection via digital technology doesn�t end after the recording is done. In fact, the struggle really commences once a band has its product saved to a hard drive and burned to CD. Using digital cameras and computer-based graphics programs, it must design and produce promotional photos and artwork for their packaging, and those files must be saved so they can be used over and over again (or at least until new materials are merited). And once the music and the marketing materials are prepared, they have to be unleashed on the public.
How things have changed since the good ol� days of CBGB�s in New York and The Whisky A Go-Go in Los Angeles, when a hopeful band�s advertising consisted largely of crudely made handbills plastered in bathrooms, in alleyways and on telephone poles. Today, the Internet is the world�s bathroom, a place for bands to paste their pictures, bios, artwork and music, and a marketplace for them to sell their wares. Succinctly, the Internet is the do-it-yourself haven for networking and promotion.
One of the most popular Web sites for such promotion is MySpace.com, which touts itself as �a place for friends.� The well-designed, much-traveled site is a one-stop shop for people from all walks of life to search for friends, lovers, business connections, fans, support groups and so on and so forth. The MySpace Music clearinghouse caters to unsigned, indie and big-label artists. It features a sophisticated, comprehensive search engine that includes searches by category (band name, band bio, band members, influences and �sounds like�) and keyword, genre (everything from 2-step and a cappella to trip-hop and turntablism) and location (Afghanistan to Zimbabwe). You can find videos, MySpace�s top artists, concert dates, music forums and classified ads, and, of course, you can sign up your band to be part of the action. Once a band has joined, it can upload photos and songs, start a blog, post reviews, add links to their friends� and supporters� Web sites and generally exploit cyberspace to kick-star their careers.
Having a list of 1,000 friends and supporters on MySpace is all well and good, but it won�t necessarily pay the bills. Yet again, digital technology has rendered 2005 significantly different from 1995 or 1985 or 1975. �In the old days,� Singer explains, �record labels were in charge of distribution, and that�s why [bands] were desperate to get a record deal.� All that�s changed, thanks to digital technology and the Internet. Today, a band can simply upload its latest CD to its Web site and give it away or sell it as a digital music download, totally cutting out the middle man. (Some established groups take this to the extreme. Pearl Jam, for example, will record a live show and make it available for downloading via their online Ten Club just a few hours after they�ve left the stage.)
Bands can also strike deals with online music shops, including Apple�s iTunes and Yahoo! Music (though the really lucrative deals remain the realm of established acts that are sure to inspire downloading frenzies), or use online distribution warehouses that take orders then physically ship a CD. CDBaby.com, which describes itself as �a little CD store with the best new independent music,� is an example of the latter. Here�s how it works: A band cuts a record and sends 50 of its CDs to CDBaby, which advertises the disc with reviews and sample tracks. Once � or if � those 50 CDs sell out, the band is contacted to replenish the stock. �They even sample your tunes, turn them into MP3s or whatever form you want and forward them to Apple�s iTunes music store and other music services online,� Singer says. He summarizes, �We�re totally relying on the computer for distribution, for developing networks of people, building a gig schedule, mailing to fans. [Digital technology] takes care of recording, propaganda and networking.�
But what about our nightmarish legions of PBBBS sufferers? What does digital technology mean for them? Alas, they were born at the wrong time; their wounds are irreparable, even with the power of 0 and 1 at our fingertips. Today�s consumers are the fortunate ones, witnesses to a birth of an entirely new lifestyle � a lifestyle that�s being forged by digital technology, particularly portable music and video players.
Ask anyone with a Creative Zen, a Sony Network Walkman or, of course, any of Apple�s all-conquering iPod models, and you�ll be sure to hear tales of musical emancipation. The subject is so all-encompassing, in fact, that it�s too large to deal with here. Suffice it to say that being able to carry 15,000 songs or 1,000 digital photos or hours of video in your pocket is changing the way humans move across the landscape.
�What I get from iPod is very different from any other former portables,� DJ Bashico says. �I can search and sort the music easily, and that is very different from the Walkman. The Walkman was a portable player; the iPod is a portable archive.� Bashico adds that DJs in Japan are using laptop computers and high-speed Internet connections at their gigs, bringing the traditionally analog art into the digital age. The DJs �download music from file servers in their house through the Internet. They don�t bring records.� And a recent story on CNN.com describes the pending demise of the barroom jukebox: More and more patrons are being encouraged to connect their iPods to bars� sound systems, allowing them to DJ as they drink.
�I adore my iPod,� COLDFEET�s Fine enthuses. �Being able to carry around all of my favorite � or not favorite � music is fantastic enough, but to be able to have all of my demos and guest vocal work, singles and B-sides on hand any time � I can play any demo song for anyone at any meeting. Now I carry my iPod like I carry my wallet.�
That�s a tidy summary: Portable digital devices, including personal digital assistants (PDAs) and phones that can take pictures and download and play music and video files, are becoming as indispensable as what�s in your wallet or purse. As each day passes, it becomes more difficult to think of a world without digital technology. Not since the General Lee on �The Dukes of Hazzard� has 01 had such a profound impact on culture, popular and otherwise. And though a future generation of filmmakers may be inspired to churn out tongue-in-cheek horror stories about the ravages of �Blackberry thumb� or �MP3 ear,� by then, digital denizens will define such a large part of themselves by how they use the technology that they�ll probably just download the movies and save them to their iPod so they can laugh at the imagery whenever the fancy strikes.
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