Digital choice, the myth

In my quest for a less hardcopy world, i have made some firm resolutions: 

1. my entire music collection will be digital, selling what cds I can get money for through amazon.com, donating the majority of what-are-now worth $.01 to thrift stores. 

2. I am also attempting to wrap my head around not owning movies/tv, but "renting" them - preferably free. (I'm still working on what to do with books, so don't expect that discussion here).

One thing, however, hasn't changed - I am a voracious music and film collector. Should I just fashion playlists on Spotify and listen to their music instead of mine - possibly. Is Google Play a good place to find obscure-ish music (that was the eMusic promise, if I recall, that fell flat for me real fast)? But at least I have two stellar options for purchasing music: iTunes and Amazon. But, really? I am convinced that they both share pretty much the same music library. 99% of the time, music I can't find on iTunes can't be found on Amazon either. I have to realize they are merely the distributor and can't sell what is not available, or…what is no longer available.

This part really sucks: Both music distributors boast how large their music collections are getting, but neither let us know when music disappears from their ranks (as they are selling us "copies", it's not like a book that sells out). I found this out recently when I went to iTunes to search for the latest Sleepthief single, only to discover their entire catalog was no longer on iTunes.

The resolution here is to go directly to each artist and buy direct. Sleepthief's website has his music for sale; all I need to do is create yet another digital account (on Paypal) to handle this sort of transaction. This may be the wave of the future - cutting out the distributor entirely, leaving convenience in the dust.

I found the exact same experience trying to stream free video. Shunning Hulu's increasingly sad offering of non-premium shows aside, I have a lengthy Netflix streaming list. Sure, they give you a slight heads up that some movies will be "expiring" soon, but if you're in the middle of a 8 year TV show run, you're going to be pissed. I just signed up for Amazon's "Prime" deal in order to get some free streaming - and the inevitable happened: the only "free" offerings were the exact same movies I can stream for free on Netflix.

Digital choice is a sad illusion and I am its willing slave.

Apologizing, digitally

The fact that this apology does not exist anywhere on paper, that it was created in TextEdit on my MacMini, then copy-and-pasted onto Blogspot, is in a major way the reason why I need to say how sorry I am it has gotten to this.

I apologize to Borders and many small, independent bookstores (except the tiny B Dalton's that used to be in all the malls, which were - let's be honest - more of an irritation for serious booklovers) for purchasing my books on amazon.com. True, most of them were used, and the inventory impeccable. I grew up trolling the literally dust-filled bins of used paperback palaces, some maddeningly unorganized, most with 100 copies of crap romance novels and nothing close to what I was looking for. But now they're mostly gone because of me. The fact that Barnes & Noble might not survive 2013 is my fault as well.

I apologize to now-defunct record stores - large and small. Tower Records was closing its doors in New Orleans soon after Katrina recovery was in full swing, and I was there, scouring the shelves for deep, deep, discounts, fingering the bullet holes in the corpse. I often stopped by the Virgin Megastore in Downtown Disney before it went away, more to see what new chill compilations were out, but never to buy. In hometown Tampa Bay, after following Vinyl Fever through three locations, I even stopped trolling the 99 cent used disc bins. And all of this because iTunes allows me to purchase just one beautiful track out of an entire cd that might contain utter shite.

I apologize to all of those amazing independent cinemas that have had to close their doors. The real historic movie houses, like Tampa Theatre, only hang on due to intense corporate funding. Less glamourous palaces, like the just-shuttered Beach Theatre in St. Petersburg, were snuffed out by me, cacooned at home thanks to Netflix, who slide luscious indie and foreign film into my post office box every week.

I am deeply sorry for all the many businesses that I have abandoned in my quest for efficiency, low prices, high tech and customer satisfaction. And for my sins I now live in an area where every where I look is an Amscot, a Dollar Store, a place that will pay cash for my gold (if I had any). This is the barren landscape I deserve.

Award season, diminishing

I'm not an award show devotee and you might not be either for several good reasons:

1.  Are these awards being voted on by industry leaders, peers, old fogies, corporations? And if it is a people's choice award, does the middle-ground rabble average really interest me, a (film/theatre/music/literature/et al) dilettante?

2. Many in the audience use award nominations and winners as an after-the-fact list of "proven" pieces of art to view or to purchase. Box office sometimes works the same way: if it's #1, it's gotta be good, right? If it wins an Oscar or Emmy, does that immediately mean it's a must-see?

3. Genre projects are the redheaded stepchildren (sci fi/horror/fantasy mostly) who rarely get recognized (unless it stays in its own backyard, like the Saturn or Hugo). As a result, many of my film and television favorites have never been nominated for major awards. Crowd pleasers are more often spotlighted, not cult favorites.

4. The Palme d'Or is all that matters.