Print is Dead: Books in Our Digital Age

One of the most common themes that runs through the future of the book debate is, well, the idea of the book itself. Or rather, what a book is or should be. Most people consider a work like The Great Gatsby to be a book. After all, when someone says they love The Great Gatsby, chances are they’re talking about the book (I doubt they mean the film or the opera; I’ve seen both, and didn’t love either). And yet, what they’re really reacting to are Fitzgerald’s words and story, not the paper and glue of Scribner’s. Because of this, the real heart of Gatsby is in its amazing language and timeless theme, not the page. The spirit and magic of The Great Gatsby isn’t the book itself; the book is just a prop. Indeed, the page was just the first place we experienced Gatsby, so it has now become a physical beacon or marker for us to stare at and appreciate (not unlike the green light at the end of Daisy’s pier in the novel itself). And yet, when we talk, in the future of the book debate, about physical books going away people tend to think that, along with the paper and glue, we’re going to remove the stories and ideas as well. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. To compare this to music, it reminds of a syndrome I call “banditis.”

I would define “banditis” as being when all members of a band feel the need to all play on or contribute to a song (as if every song needs guitar, bass and drums). This tends to make all songs sound predictable; you end up waiting for the chorus and the guitar solo. The truth is, not all songs need a chorus — or even lyrics — not to mention guitar in the first place (let alone solos). In fact, my favorite record of the year so far is the recently released Heartcore by Wildbirds and Peacedrums (the video above is them performing the song “Doubt/Hope”). The “group” is made up of a young married couple from Sweden, and most often the songs consist of just the husband’s inventive drumming and the wife’s haunted and haunting vocals. Of course, if you were to describe this to most people they’d say, “Uh, just vocals and drums? Where’s the rest?” as if something were missing. People react this way because they’ve been conditioned to think of songs as being defined as something that has guitars, bass and drums (if not even more instruments, like piano, strings, and backup vocals). In fact, even when musicians appear with just an acoustic guitar it’s considered a bit of a novelty (remember MTV’s show Unplugged?). But, in my mind, the less adorned the music is, the more real and true it is. The same thing can happen with stories and ideas. The same way that a song can consist of just drums and vocals, a story can just be words on a screen. Songs can still be songs, even without guitars; and novels can still be novels, even without pages.

I was in Los Angeles a few weeks ago for BEA, and during a day off as I was driving around the city I couldn’t help but notice some pretty big changes. It’s been over a decade since I lived there; I moved to LA in 1989 and moved away in early 1997. In the intervening years I lived in the Fairfax, Larchmont Village and Silverlake sections of the city (to this day I miss my phone number with the 666 prefix). And since — during those years — I was a rabid music fan, the biggest change I noticed as I drove down Sunset Boulevard was the empty building where Tower Records used to be. Tower, of course, was one of the biggest record store chains in the country, and the fact that they’re all out of business — while iTunes, something that didn’t exist six years ago, is now a major player — shows just how much the music industry has changed.

In addition to Tower, I was upset to learn a few years ago that my favorite record store in Los Angeles, Aron’s, had also closed. While I had occasionally gone to Tower for music, Aron’s was where I really spent most of my time. Once a week I would wander its aisles for at least an hour, either perusing the used CDs to the left of the entrance or else checking out the new releases lined against the far wall opposite the front doors. I even remember when Aron’s, in the late ‘80s, used to be on Melrose in a much smaller location. But now it, too, is out of business. At the time of its closing, Aron’s management was placing blame on our digital age, saying that “People simply aren’t buying CDs like they used to; they’re downloading, burning their own CDs, or file-trading online.”

On my final day in California, I went with my brother to a movie at the Cinerama Dome (itself now part of a big complex called Arclight). While killing time before the film, we went across the street to Amoeba Records (which was the only record store I happened to see while in LA; the Music Plus that used to be on Fairfax is also — like Tower — closed and out of business). And while Amoeba seemed like a really great store — huge space, great selection — it’s pretty much off the beaten path for most music buyers. For instance, I asked my brother, while we were standing in line to buy something, “How does someone just pop in here to buy something?” He said he wasn’t sure; he only went there when he was killing time before a movie. We had parked at the garage for the theater, and on Sunset there are precious few parking spots. Aron’s, back in the day, only had a small and chaotic parking lot, but at least it was in an area where you could park on the street. But Amoeba is on one of the busiest streets in the city, and seems more like a tourist attraction than a record store. It probably has its own nearby parking garage, but shopping for records shouldn’t be like going to Disneyland; you shouldn’t have to remember in which lot you’ve parked just because you want the new Wedding Present CD.

Of course, as much as I lament these changes and the closing of those stores, I wonder how often — in this digital age — I would have visited Aron’s or Tower if I still lived in Los Angeles. For instance, when I first moved to New York in the late ‘90s I used to go to what I considered to be Manhattan’s equivalent to Aron’s: Other Music on Fourth Street (which itself used to be across the street from a Tower Records location). And while Other Music is still there, now that Amazon and iTunes exists, I never really go there. Why should I when I can instantly download stuff, or when even Amazon has stuff that I want, including semi-obscure stuff? There’s now no need to go across town to pay more for records at Other Music (not to mention I also don’t have to have one of their hipper-than-thou salespeople smirk at me for not buying vinyl). In fact, in talking about this similar phenomenon in the California book world, Chris Anderson said last year, ““A lot of our affection for bookstores is based on a romanticized notion. The fact that we’re not patronizing them speaks more loudly than our words.” So it’s behavior like mine that led to the demise of both Tower and Aron’s records, not to mention it’s the same behavior that is continuing the threaten bookstores across the country.

Paul McCartney was one thing, but in a move that surely must be one of the signs of our impending apocalypse, longtime New York noisemakers Sonic Youth have a new celebrity-curated CD compilation that’s being made available only at Starbucks locations (Pitchfork has the details). It goes on sale next week. And while I always suspected that the “youth” part of the band’s moniker would one day be just ironic, I don’t think I would have ever suspected that SY would make a move like this. This goes to show just how much things have changed. Next thing you know, Dunkin’ Donuts will be selling a Big Black compilation entitled Songs About Dunkin’.

“They substitute the telegram with the fax machine.
What did you substitute me with?”

–”Chocolates”
The Aluminum Group

The Aluminum Group are one of my favorite bands. Every since their landmark 1999 record Pedals, I’ve been hooked on their blend of literary references, crooning vocals, and glitchy production techniques (if Burt Bacharach joined Tortoise, it’d sound like The Aluminum Group). The song “Wheat and Tare” from their last record, 2003’s Morehappyness, might be one of my top-ten favorite songs of all time; every time I hear it I kind of wilt. I have all of their records, and since their two previous releases were installments of a trilogy entitled “Happyness“ (with the first record named Happyness and the second being Morehappyness), I was of course looking forward to yet another record from them. In fact, each of the Happyness records have similar artwork and packaging, so while I wanted of course to hear the new songs, I also wanted to get the new record so I could add it to the shelf alongside its musical mates.

So when I read a positive review of the new Aluminum Group record on Pitchfork a month or so ago, I was excited and couldn’t wait to get my hands on the new record. The first thing I did was go to Amazon and search for the group. I was pleased to see the new record (entitled Little Happyness) listed alongside all of the other records I own, including the first two Happyness records. However, the new record was listed only as a bunch of MP3 downloads, not as an actual record. Not satisfied, I went to the record label’s website, Minty Fresh.

On the Flash-filled site I found a purchase page for the record (can’t include a link to it since the whole site’s in Flash, which is annoying), but — again — this was just for the MP3’s, and not the CD. Growing a bit frustrated, I went to the band’s website, which had an announcement for the new record as a splash landing page; from this page you could read the band’s bio, contact them, and listen to the new record. But I still could not find a link to buy the CD (nor any language saying “this is a download only release”). Finally, feeling a bit exasperated, I e-mailed someone at the label who promptly wrote me back saying that, at this time, there’s no plan for a physical release of Little Happyness.

This was a bit of a let down for me. Because, while what’s of course most important is the music, it does seems strange not to be able to have a physical product. I mean, the group itself is named after a line of furniture, and in their songs they name-check all kinds of artists and works of art (ranging from Tom of Finland to Erte). So while I’d just put CD instantly into my iTunes, I still want to own the actual product.

Even Radiohead augmented it’s digital release of their last record with actual CDs for people who wanted the physical items for their collections. So while I’m all for the instantaneous gratification that downloading an entire record with the click of a mouse offers, for the bands that I really like, and whose work I’ve been collecting for years, I’d still like to have — in addition to the MP3s — a physical copy of the record. For books, this will probably be the same. Books that people consume like candy — thrillers and murder mysteries; the kinds the airport bookstores are chock full of — will be similar; the content will be delivered digitally, and that’s where it’ll end. But for certain die hard fans, record companies and publishers alike need to realize that substituting CDs with MP3s may not always suffice. Yes, video killed the radio star, but digital delivery won’t completely replace physical goods.

In order to create a kind of theme song for Print is Dead, yesterday I took a few snippets of dialogue from Ghostbusters, Time Bandits and 24 Party People, and dropped them into Garageband on my laptop. I then put the samples behind some drum and keyboard loops and, after a few hours of tweaking, came up with the song “Print is Dead.”

You can listen to the song using the audio player below, or else you can download an MP3 here.

Give a listen…

Earlier in the week it was announced that seminal British hard rock group Led Zeppelin’s back catalog will soon be available digitally. The band’s eight records (including the one with the old guy carrying the bale of wheat on his back that EVERYBODY growing up in the ‘70s owned, but didn’t quite know what to call), plus other material, will be available digitally by Mid-November. And not only will the songs turn up in the usual places, like iTunes, but through a deal with Verizon Wireless there will also be Led Zeppelin ringtones and other mobile-friendly downloads (so get ready to hear those opening chords to “Stairway to Heaven” even more often).

Of course, this coincides with Led Zeppelin’s recent reunion and their decision to play their first shows in over twenty-five years. And what’s amazing is everything that’s happened since Led Zeppelin broke up back in 1980. Music, in 1980, usually meant vinyl if not an eight track cassette (good for listening to in your car), not to mention cassette tapes (good to use in a Walkman, which debuted in 1979). In ‘80, the personal computer was just getting off the ground and CDs wouldn’t make an appearance for another couple of years.

But now, upon Led Zeppelin’s return, the musical landscape has almost entirely changed. People no longer buy records or tapes and, increasingly, they don’t even buy CDs. Instead, people buy their music in a way that renders the music more or less invisible; they download songs in the form of MP3s.

And of course, while all of that has been happening in music, in the book world it’s been mostly status quo. True, in the ‘80s CD-ROMS gave a few people the shivers (some with excitement, some with fear), and then, a decade later, eBooks first appeared and didn’t exactly catch on. Then, in the late ‘90s, there was an Internet bubble, which shortly thereafter burst, and we now find ourselves in the midst of a Web 2.0 world which spreads its sinewy strands into every area of our networked lives.

Computers, electronic devices and digital content is everywhere. And now that Led Zeppelin will be on iTunes, it’s pretty much another signal that, when it comes to music, there’s nothing you can’t get digitally (except for, well, The Beatles).

We need to make similar strides in publishing. We need to digitize content and give people the choice of how they consume it. (I mean, you can’t even get Hammer of the Gods in eBook.) Until then, books will be stuck in their “eight track” phase, destined to follow all of those dusty vinyl copies of Physical Graffiti to garage sales. Meanwhile, the readers of tomorrow will move on to the realm of totally digital content, maybe leaving print behind.

The brilliantly named Peter Kafka (my favorite tech writer aside from Todd Flaubert), writing on the Silicon Alley Insider website, had a story last week entitled “Music Decline to Accelerate in 2008 With Retailer Cutbacks.” The article talked about how, in 2008, the ailing music industry just might be delivered a deathblow due to the fact that a trio of huge companies (Best Buy, Wal Mart and Target) next year will drastically cut the amount of space they give to music CDs. As Kafka writes, “We are hearing predictions of cuts that range from 20% to 40%, with Wal-Mart making the most aggressive pullbacks.” Keep in mind that this is in addition to Tower Records going out of business, not to mention that a number of these chains have already reduced their music selection. And, of course, people can’t buy what’s not for sale.

So while music has been under assault for years now (Kafka opens his story by writing, “The music business has seen sales drop for seven straight years. Next year will be worse.”), the news of these huge retailers jumping ship is adding up to even worse news than usual. Kafka continues: “But a retail cutback could be much more damaging than any single year revenue decline. In a worst-case scenario, and one we think is quite likely, a cutback sets off a self-fulfilling prophecy: Retailers stock less music, so consumers have less to choose from, and then buy even less, causing retailers to stock even less. Repeat.”

Of course, at the same time, Apple is releasing new iPods and Amazon and Microsoft are each starting or renewing their commitments to selling music online. So while the lack of CD sales won’t be replaced by digital sales (not by a long shot), it’s still the best chance that music has to at least hold on to some market-share in an online world. And some labels, and some bands (i.e. Radiohead), are trying new things and doing all that they can to not only keep their music interesting, but are also trying to reinvigorate the way that they get their music into the hands of their fans,

Meanwhile, via another story on the Silicon Alley Insider website, you get a story about people waiting in line to watch short film at an Apple Store. At the same time, Starbucks is now a music label, Amazon’s commissioning fiction, and last week — after missing the season premiere due to a DVR mix-up — my wife watched an entire episode of Desperate Housewives the next day (for free) on her laptop.

So to think that the former rules or concepts about media still applies is now officially an illusion; this goes beyond even the facile name-checking of Bob Dylan songs about how the times are a-changing. Instead, the previous commercial boundaries have been turned into porous borders that allow for the intermingling of content and business models, the refashioning of existing ideas and the birthing of entirely new ones. Music is in serious trouble, but if print can learn from music’s lessons, maybe we will be spared music’s fate. Because that’s just not a bell you hear tolling for thee; it’s also a ringtone and an MP3. And they’re all playing the same tune…

Over the weekend British band Radiohead announced via a new website (after posting a number of cryptic clues on their regular site) that they will soon be releasing a new record entitled In Rainbows. While this sounds, on the surface, like generally run-of-the-mill news (arty band records new record, big deal), what makes the news of Radiohead’s latest release interesting are the details.

First of all, the record comes out on October 10th. Meaning, like, in a week and a half. That’s pretty interesting by itself considering no one really was sure they were recording anything, let alone were about to release a brand new record. So in an age where Britney’s every move is captured by the paparazzi, and songs from her “new” album are leaked every other day, that Radiohead could keep this secret is pretty cool. Plus, when record releases — like book releases — are as hotly anticipated as blockbuster films (witness 50 Cent and Kanye West’s recent showdown which people had been looking forward to for months), for Radiohead to just sneak onto the calendar is pretty subversive. Another minor thing about this which is fun: October 10th is a Wednesday; in the UK the record industry releases new CDs on Mondays. It the US, they come out on Tuesdays.

But what’s most amazing is that, as the music blog Idolator wrote, “the words ‘Capitol’ and ‘EMI’ appear nowhere on the Radiohead site.” Which means that the band, free from their major label contract, are choosing to release this record on their own, at a time and in a manner of their own choosing. Remember the days when bands were sent back to the studio because clueless A&R guys didn’t hear a “single”? Well, those days might just be nearing to a close, because why would a band like Radiohead need EMI or Capitol? Why not just do what Radiohead’s doing and release the record themselves?

And Radiohead is taking advantage of their newfound freedom by releasing In Rainbows in a variety formats, including as a digital download as well as a special “discbox” that contains “THE NEW ALBUM, IN RAINBOWS, ON CD AND ON 2 X 12 INCH HEAVYWEIGHT VINYL RECORDS. A SECOND, ENHANCED CD CONTAINS MORE NEW SONGS, ALONG WITH DIGITAL PHOTOGRAPHS AND ARTWORK. THE DISCBOX ALSO INCLUDES ARTWORK AND LYRIC BOOKLETS. ALL ARE ENCASED IN A HARDBACK BOOK AND SLIPCASE. THE ALBUM DOWNLOAD AUTOMATICALLY COMES WITH THIS PACK.” The discbox is a bit expensive at about $80, but Radiohead is selling the download for whatever fans wish to pay (meaning, I could pay the usual $10 for the download, or $1, or nothing).

So with one fell swoop Radiohead shatters half-a-dozen rock-star rituals, and further makes the existence of record labels a questionable thing in a digital age. About all of this, Pitchfork gleefully wrote, “Haha, the entire record industry is so f*cked!” While I wouldn’t go as far as that, I think the business is certainly (and finally) changing in a way that might be more beneficial to the fans and musicians instead of the labels.

Matt Richtel, writing this morning in the New York Times, has a story entitled “At Starbucks, Songs of Instant Gratification,” which is about a new Starbucks feature starting today that will allow anyone with an iPhone, iPod Touch or iTunes on a laptop to instantly download any song that Starbucks is currently playing. The songs will cost the $.99 that they always cost on iTunes. For right now, though, this is only being introduced in New York and Seattle.

Starbucks has previously waded into non-coffee items, selling things like music compilation CDs and even the occasional book. But they took a huge leap a few months ago when they put out Paul McCartney’s new record. With the McCartney CD, Starbucks essentially turned itself into a music label. With this new service, it has now transformed itself into a digital music store.

“And it’s just the tip of the iced latte,” writes Richtel. “Businesses are using new technologies to enhance the impulse buy so consumers can purchase their temptations whenever they want, wherever they are, before the urge passes.”

This kind of on-demand business model goes beyond even the flexibility of something like Tivo or the one-click shopping of Amazon. By being able to instantly download a song that’s playing in the background while you either order or sip your morning coffee, suddenly even tunes floating invisibly through the air can be bought and sold. “The idea is no waiting, cashier or other buying barrier,” writes Richtel, “aside from the charges that show up on a credit card or cellphone bill.”

This is not only amazing from a technical point of view, but it’s also just pretty damn cool. And I think it will work. Even if people don’t buy or download the songs from Starbucks, right then and there, being able to know what the song is will probably lead to a purchase at a later date or time,

Of course, as soon as we have wireless and portable devices that offer a good reading experience, books will similarly be as instantly available as songs. For instance, imagine being in a coffee house (like, a real one; not a Starbucks) and you meet a friend and they’re telling how great Master and Margarita is, that you just have to read it. Well, you could pull out your laptop or device (or iPhone), and buy it right then and there, having it download to your device in a matter of seconds. At that point, The Portable Faulkner turns into the instant Faulkner. And when that happens, it’ll be yet another bad sign not only for books, but for bookstores.

Before the age of the Internet and the iPod, way back in the early 90’s, Nirvana ruled the charts and grunge was the hot new sound. Tower Records was still around, the term “alternative” meant something, and MTV actually showed videos. In terms of Nirvana, what had been crucial their success was their gritty history: scruffy small-town kids clad in thrift-store flannel who’d recorded their debut record for $600 bucks and then released it on the independent label Sub Pop (that not many people had heard of until then).

Kids found the fact that Nirvana was so rough around the edges intoxicating; their lack of polish and pretension ignited the fervor of a generation the same way that punk had done a dozen years earlier. Of course, the only thing the record companies cared about was finding more Nirvanas and racking up more sales, so they did everything they could to find similar bands. Sometimes, it was successful (Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains), and sometimes it wasn’t (Seaweed, Tad). But once the grunge barrel was finally empty, and all the indie bands had been signed (at the height of this madness Japanoise band The Boredoms were signed to Warners Bros, something no one could believe), the major labels started creating their own indie bands, which gave rise to something that later became known as “Scam indie.”

Scam indie was the act of trying to make a major label artist seem like an independent one, which would help in generating a loyal grassroots audience, as well as lend an air of authenticity. The only problem with the scenario was that it was fake. But the major labels “neverminded” this, and kept trying to secretly funnel bands through the indie scene as if it were a kind baseball “farm system,” with the indie scene as the minor leagues while the big labels were the majors. Usually this meant something fairly benign like making a record cover look like it had been cheaply constructed with tape or Wite-Out, meaning the artists had made it themselves. The point would be that the band didn’t care about aesthetics or playing the record industry game (early Pavement and Sebadoh records were the touchstones here); they were anti-image, anti-corporations, anti-everything. But in reality, the artwork was designed by slick art departments who were trying very hard to have the sleeves appear homemade. (In fact, you still see this, even in publishing.) Another facet of scam indie involved huge conglomerates starting boutique record labels, and then trying to hide the fact that the money came not from weekends working at Kinko’s, but from shareholders in giant parent companies.

More than a decade later, with the Internet now a huge presence in almost everyone’s life, “scam indie” is back. Because now, in the age of user-generated content where anyone can produce a video or song and upload it to Myspace or YouTube, it’s even easier to pretend you’re something you’re not. The Wall Street Journal reported on this a few weeks ago with a story by Ethan Smith and Peter Lattman entitled “Download This: YouTube Phenom Has a Big Secret.” The story was about Marié Digby, a supposedly unknown 24-year old singer songwriter who had been turned into an Internet phenomenon due to her homemade YouTube videos and songs she posted on her Myspace page. On the surface it sounds like a great example of Web 2.0 “anyone can do this” egalitarianism, but it’s not.

Digby has a record deal with Disney-owned major label Hollywood Records, and had been signed to them since well before she starting posting her “Shucks, I’m just a girl in her living room” videos to YouTube. As Smith and Lattman write in their article, “Though all involved say that Hollywood Records’ role in her online rise has been limited, label executives say they did nothing to discourage Ms. Digby from conveying the impression that she had stumbled into the spotlight.” Not only that, but “Hollywood Records helped devise her Internet strategy, consulted with her on the type of songs she chose to post, and distributed a high-quality studio recording of [Rihanna’s] ‘Umbrella’ to iTunes and radio stations.” So while her fans “seem pleased to believe that they discovered an underground sensation,” what they’ve really discovered — whether they realize it or not — is scam indie 2.0.

And so while bona fide Internet sensations (of the Jonathan Coulton variety, and not the Star Wars Kid variety) will continue to exist and thrive, thereby creating huge online constituencies and hopefully full-fledged careers (Ronald Jenkees anyone?), these will be increasingly harder to spot due to the fact that so many people out there are faking it. And the reasons they’re faking it are simple: 1. It’s effective. 2. It’s cheap.

The grand prize in the online world is viral word of mouth and virtual buzz, and this has become the holy grail to major corporations. And these corporations, as witnessed from the Marié Digby situation, will do anything they can to create Internet stars that will ultimately lead to record sales. All of which, in my mind, harkens back to the cover of the Nirvana CD that started all of this in the first place: the naked baby swimming after the dollar bill dangling on the hook. A lot has changed in the music industry since then, but the hook and the money are still disturbingly the same.