When I turn on my computer after a particularly long night, I reopen my browser, and this is what it looks like..
And on the first page, of the first instance of the browser, on the very first tab in a stack of sixteen in the selected window, not counting the tabs stored in Read It Later, Too Many Tabs, and the thousands of bookmarks (scattered in a surprisingly organized disarray).. but I digress. On the top of my digital pile, I find this little number from a group I’ve never heard of and know nothing about. I can’t even begin to remember where or from whom these link trees sprouted. And it’s like this every morning. I sift through this endless onslaught of listening material; hours worth at a time, and often available for immediate download. In addition to this relentless influx of media, I am constantly having to purge my ever-expanding collection, deciding what I can’t make it through a week without and what could be archived onto one of three external drives.However, this evening, I’m glad I started with A Loom & Not Me. It’s raining glitter outside and it’s cold as hell. I’m planning on staying indoors, warm and intoxicated, submerged in tonight’s enticing mélange of aural delights.
For quite some time, I was lightly opposed to the idea of “cloud storage” though I have since realized that there are many bits of information that I’m at total ease with the thought of a lost and wandering pair of eyes perusing. Eyes that may be otherwise desensitized by the infinite fount of music blogs and dizzying array of sources for artists to both explore and share an infinite stream of sounds, images and words, among other sensory experiences that defy definition.
In the meanwhile, mere onlookers such as myself simply glean and tirelessly consume as much as is humanly possibly in a 24/7 operation of one—perhaps more if we’re lucky and stumble into other starving, wandering souls that heedlessly join in the quest for the remarkable and unheard. We combine endless resources, unhealthy amounts of time, personal and social influences, connections, and our assorted channels of output, attempting to fulfill our self-imposed obligation to share the things that move us and return what little we can to the digital collective. I feel driven to write this as though it would be read by thousands, because in theory, it could be—if given enough time.
I know that my sentiments are not just my own. I have been fortunate to have met and conspired with many fellow enthusiasts throughout my ongoing crusade for musical enlightenment. Thanks to the modern marvel that is the internet, I have been able to connect with specialized connoisseurs over a range of mediums and each contributes from his or her own uniquely forged and attentively fostered tastes and preferred directions. None of us are content with predictability or regression. Building with elements of the past should still result in something unique for today; we should always strive to build upon what we were given and offer something significant and inspiring to the crusaders of tomorrow.
And now, on to tab two. By the way, this is free: