There a great piece in this week’s New Yorker about the technological and, more important, societal impacts of the Sony Walkman as it hits 40 years of age. Matt Alt describes the invention and widespread adoption of the Walkman as, “a point around which the cultural gravity of our plugged-in-yet-tuned-out modern lives shifted.” Indeed, from then on the soundtracking of moments was democratized and, in a variety of ways, music took on new identities. The space music takes up was forever changed, and the experience of consuming music could be a solitary and compact endeavor. Alt borrows from the musicologist Shuhei Hosokawa to discuss ‘The Walkman Effect’ and the way portable music can, “tame the unpredictability of urban spaces.” The Walkman, then, pushed music into a newly intimate space and, further, brought about a sort of unspoken social cue relying on people to not get in your face when your ears (and mind) are elsewhere.
I’ve had a pretty close relationship, too, with music in its modern and convenient form, which is to say that, while being someone who listens to music for hours each day, my lifetime collection of CDs, cassettes, and records is almost non-existent. I still remember, as a little dude, being endlessly entertained by my older brother’s first generation iPod and the little parachuter game with which it came equipped. All of that is to say: I’m no skeptic. Yet after reading about the Walkman’s legacy some four decades later, I can’t help but think of where we stand sonically as a result. All that advancement came with some serious costs.
In an interview with Tyler Cowen, the musicologist and writer Ted Gioia points out how music is one of the only facets of popular culture in which the raw quality has, in recent decades, seen a noticeable decrease. He explains, “I would say that music is the only form of entertainment in which the technology has gotten worse during my lifetime. I go to movies now, and it’s this big screen and surround sound. Video games put the Pong that I used to play to shame. TV is so good, it’s being called a golden age of television. But in music, most of us listen to songs on these lousy handheld devices. Most people in my generation had better sound systems as teenagers than they do now. That worries me.” Did this all stem from the Walkman? Well, it’s possible. As convenience and portability became the imperative, new compression techniques were developed, new sonic norms took over, and, in short, sacrifices were made. Whether it’s been worth it is perhaps too early to tell; for better or worse, I can’t really imagine going back to eating lunch, going to the gym, or cleaning my apartment sans headphones and a Spotify subscription.
The other thing that stuck out to me, though, was how our understanding of what it means to be ‘plugged in’ has also transformed. Alt points out a striking example from a CBS record exec, who said, “with the advent of the Walkman came the end of meeting people.” What happens, though, when the technology outstretches its initial purpose and takes on an identity of its own? With Apple headphones and, more specifically, Airpods, the lines of fashion, technology, and function have all been blurred. I don’t doubt that, in its day, Sony’s portable innovation was indeed a fashion statement, yet Airpods have become a permanent fixture of life in pretty much all settings. I routinely see people who appear to be having normal interactions—on dates, chatting with friends, settling up at a cash register—yet remain ‘plugged in,’ as it were. Could it really be that we’re all totally tuned out for most of our waking hours? I kind of doubt it; nevertheless, the concept of going out of one’s way to listen to music is something worth reevaluating (for me, at least).
All of this takes me back to the most deliberate music listening experience I’ve ever had, which was in Tokyo. The city’s hi-fi listening bars have been well chronicled, and they do truly live up to the hype. Yes, of course, the quarter-of-a-million-dollar sound systems don’t hurt, but going out of one’s way with the sole intention of taking in a solid selection of records pretty much turned my recent listening habits on their head. Since then, I’m also spinning a lot more George Benson, but that’s neither here nor there.
To me, still, there’s no question that the Walkman and subsequent innovations in private music™ have made life richer. But I’m curious to see what comes next, and to find out if popular technology inches toward an experience where music is at the center of it all, or where music is beamed to us as a means to accompany each second of the day.