If you’re like me (old enough to have taken cursive in the third grade, but young enough to have come-of-age during the first generation of social media and Smart Phones), you likely consume music in one of two ways:
you stream it (Spotify, Apple Music, YouTube, TIDAL, etc.) OR
you buy it (vinyl, cassette, CDs, etc).
(I suppose there is a secret third option if you’re one of the few souls who still listens to the radio. If you’re under the age of 40 and listen to the radio every single day, please do let me know! I wonder if you all will be the next “vintage” population of listeners to get an article about you in the New York Times after vinyl, cassettes, and CDs run their course.)
For most 20-year-olds, we consume music the way Big Tech intended: constantly, dumbly, and passively.
That’s right, we take what the algorithm gives us for that sweet rush of dopamine. We share what we listen to on our Instagram stories “for the likes.” We create mega playlists of our favorite songs and albums, without much care for what the artists we love actually intended with their work. We find new music through Instagram Reels, TikToks Dance Trends, and Spotify “Mixes”. We buy vinyl from merch pages, even if we don’t have a record player. We send song & album links to strangers, friends, and lovers in the hope they can parse out our double meanings. We are the children of Web 2.0 and find ourselves consuming the music we love 24/7, even when we sleep. It’s who we are, right?
Well, sort of.
I think when the world feeds you a steady diet of digital content for 20+ years, a wandering romanticism for the past (i.e. analog culture) is bound to arise. It certainly has for me. In my essay on the “Lost Art of Liner Notes,” I bemoaned the fickle nature of the music listening habits produced by the Internet and music streaming platforms. I cited just how many young people find themselves gravitating towards more physical, tangible media. The sheer amount of physical flyers cluttering the bulletin boards of my university library, all created by undergraduate students, is proof enough that young people suffer the most from digital fatigue.
Yes, there does seem to be a turn towards analog and away from digital amongst the least likely of sources: people under 30. Despsite what every politician, news anchor, and comedian over 50 thinks, some of us are outright rejecting our digital inheritance.
I’m currently reading social psychologist Jonathan Haidt’s new book, The Anxious Generation: How the Great Rewiring of Childhood Is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness. Haidt argues, quite well I think, that children and teens started spending more and more time online and using screens beginning in the early 2010s, leading to increased levels of mental illness, particularly generalized anxiety and clinical depression.
As one of those teens who came of age in the early 2010s and spent large amount of my time online, I 100% agree with him. In high school, I probably spent 6-8 hours a day using screens (laptops, smart phones, TV, and tablets), which caused my developing brain and psyche a lot of issues: anxiety, depression, addiction, and exposure to "adult” content and people. Even in spite of being placed in a physical environment where I was around kids my own age all the time (thank goodness for community theatre), I still felt myself drawn to the dopamine rush of endless screen time.
In college, I tried to expose myself to as much tangible community and physical materials as possible, including zines, scrapbooks, vinyl, books, and so much more. With that exposure, I gained new appreciation for analog and physical media. My music listening habits are a strange modpodge of influences. I love the Frank Sinatras and Ella Fitzgeralds of my father’s Silent Generation just as much as I love the Liz Phairs and Alanis Morissettes of my Gen X college mentor. I thrash and groove to my mom’s Boomer rock bands just as often as I sing and dance to 2010s indie and hip-hop tracks. I consume music daily on Spotify but still scour record stores for the CDs and cassettes of my favorite 90s and 80s bands.
Even more strange, I break the cardinal rule of traditional music discovery constantly by using Spotify’s algorithm and the “Similar Artists” feature to discover lesser-known songs and bands of the past and present. People always spout the impressive, even dangerous nature of the TikTok algorithm, but one look at my Spotify account and you’d see how well that AI appears to know me after a decade of consistent (see here: unhealthy) use. In other words, I’ve given Spotify years and years of input data that it now uses to give me more and more recommendations it *thinks* I want.
I’ll be the first to admit that it has given me some of my favorite songs, albums, and artists of all time. (Though, I’m sure Will Oldham and Bill Callahan would both be horrified to know I discovered their deeply human and empathetic music on that soulless, online platform.)
However, I’d also be lying if I said I didn’t prefer the real music recommendations of friends, professors, coworkers, partners, and much-sought after music commentators. Those are the recommendations that stick with me. I will always associate Jeff Buckley and The Milk Carton Kids with my best friend from high school. I will always associate Bikini Kill and Skinny Puppy with my favorite college professor. I will always associate Linda Ronstadt and The Eagles with my stepdad.
I firmly believe sharing music is one of the most important remaining acts of connection, kindness, and love we have left in this world. I always tell people that the greatest gift you could ever receive from me is a playlist. If I’ve made you a playlist or a mix CD in the last decade, I seriously give a fuck about you. If I’m spending countless hours intentionally listening to music, compiling all of it into a specific order, and then gathering the courage needed to send it to you, I really care about you (doubly so if you return the favor).
Can an algorithm give you that energy? I think our supreme overlords in Silicon Valley might say “Sort-of,” but, for now, I say: “Nope!” Big Tech and its many, many enablers leave us complacent and devoid of any meaningful cultural literacy. Sure, understanding born-digital pop culture is a form of cultural literacy in and of itself. I’ll never deny that. Even within our own cultures, we learn, adapt, and participate in various forms of cultural literacy across platforms and formats.
The thing is: the world we currently inhabit makes this particular set of knowledge even more inaccessible than it already is. I think, in many ways, the notion that Wi-Fi and greater access to wide swaths of information creates a more equitable, well-informed society is a myth. Access to information does not imply most of us know how to consume, analyze, or produce it. With shorter attention spans, exposure to overwhelming amounts of information, and the rising costs of well…everything, how are young people supposed to build or gain any sort of cultural capital outside of their own circles or elite, $75k+ college educations?
It may not matter to some people, but it does matter to me.
So, in the spirit of sharing is caring, I’m starting a monthly series called “Beyond the Algorithm,” where I’ll do what librarians like me always do: recommend some of my favorite cultural stuff (music, films, books, etc.) for whoever wants it. If you like receiving recommendations from a weird, nerdy human over a faceless, “yes man” algorithm, please feel free to subscribe and follow along with me!
For the very first issue, I’ve chosen to highlight what I love most: music and the people who make it. Specifically, I want to point your attention to some of the most interesting artists in the undercurrents (i.e. artists with roughly* less than 200k Monthly Spotify Listeners.)
The Weather Station is one of my personal favorites on this list. I’ve followed frontwoman/songwriter Tamara Lindeman and her revolving cast of incredible playing musicians since 2018, when I came across her sophomore album, All of It Was Mine. It’s a beautifully crafted folk haven for people like me who grew up in the rural hollers of the Appalachian Mountains. From running wildly through the creeks, to listening to the old timers play bluegrass on the back porch, this album looks and sounds like my hometown: white birch trees, crawling things, and sensory memories. Tamara’s haunting voice and the interplay between banjo, guitar, and fiddle are just…you must hear it for yourself. On that album, I highly recommend “Everything I Saw” and “Yarrow and Mint”.
Beyond that, the 2021 album, Ignorance, verges between a sonic dream and a heartbreaking nightmare. It takes on an edge and maturity missing in the innocence of All of It Was Mine. The decade of time passed between them is clear, filled with references to growing older and knowing things your younger self can’t. It also perfectly encapsulates the feelings about the state of the world, how difficult it is to be a feeling human being in a world that cannot be trusted and where love seems to have all but disappeared. My favorites are: “Robber” and “Trust.”
Even more spectacular is Tamara Lindeman’s liner notes and contextualizations of these masterpieces available on her website. Just read this passage about the title of Ignorance:
“In french, the verb ignorer connotes a humble, unashamed not knowing, and it is this ignorance Lindeman refers to here; the blank space at an intersection of hope and despair, a darkness that does not have to be dark.”
To me, The Weather Station is one of the most important and truthful acts out there. Their music oozes everything I love: inventive songwriting, authentic lyricism, and the folk music embedded deep in my bones. I’m ridiculously excited for their newest album to come out this year. I highly recommend!
Favorite Songs: “Yarrow and Mint” and “Endless Time”
John Gallagher Jr. is another artist I’ve followed for a long time (since I was 15!) Well, except that I only found his deeply moving folk music in the last year. Before that, I knew John Gallagher Jr. from his illustrious acting career: The Newsroom, Spring Awakening (OBC), American Idiot (OBC), and The Miseducation of Cameron Post, to name just a few. But a binge-watch of The Newsroom last Fall brought me back face-to-face with Gallagher’s immense talent as an artist. It’s really no wonder his music is so good, and yet so little-known. Despite having only released music under his own name since 2012, it has somehow fallen into relative obscurity, beyond folk freaks, his own circle, and those musical theatre heads in the know. Over the last year, he’s taken his self-described “DIY music career” to the next level, headlining shows at Joe’s Pub and the Kennedy Center, as well as going on tour with the likes of Brooklyn local indie darlings, Bandits on the Run and 90s folk legend, Dar Williams (both of whom are also incredible artists in their own right.)
Six Day Hurricane and 8th And Jane are great albums. From paying sonic homage to Jimmy Buffett and Green Day, to reaching the lyrical rawness of artists like The Avett Brothers and Ani DiFranco, Gallagher’s music is a beautiful representation of his many musical influences (including his own talented family of folk musicians). He’s had quite the music education!
Of 8th And Jane in particular, “Wurlitzer in Space” offers some of the most honest and well-crafted set of lyrics I’ve heard to date, including:
Melissa, my motives are meaningless
And many are middle of the road
I’m as harmless as a charmless bracelet
Hugging your wrist, pulsing with your proseI could sit and type all afternoon
Smoking while you sang songs you stole from me
I wouldn’t hide it from no camera crew
Screw my public image
I am on the perfect pilgrimage with you
With you
As he takes this more intentional approach to touring and recording, I can’t wait for more people to hear what John Gallagher Jr. has to offer in this facet of his artistic self. Also, he’s one of the best live musicians I’ve ever seen. Seriously, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen an artist of that caliber talk so openly about their creative process and influences with the audience before. In a world run by the algorithms, John Gallagher Jr. is the refreshing glass of water you need to keep going. Also, a little birdie told me he was planning to release an album this year. Fingers crossed!
Favorite Songs: “Sarasota Someone” and “Wurlitzer in Space”
Of the artists on this playlist, hearing the The American Analog Set for the first time was a little like time traveling. (Coincidentally, one of their later songs was featured on the film soundtrack of The Time Traveler’s Wife from 2009. Go figure!) Like soulmates or kindred spirits, I’ve always thought that there are artists out there meant for everyone. The American Analog Set has quickly become one of mine. Verging between the German, “krautrock” rock of the 70s, American alt-rock of the 80s, and even futuristic space rock, The American Analog Set is a welcome blend of soft rock influences that pairs perfectly with a warm cup of coffee, a cozy, cable-knit sweater, and a large window through which to marvel at falling snow or autumn leaves.
Okay, that’s a bit romantic for a band that also released a song entitled “Punk as F***,” but that’s what’s so impressive about them. Their quiet, strange sound, often featuring an organ, keyboards, and other hypnotic rhythms, is both subversive and soft. Though, it may not be for everyone.
When I take a good, hard look at the sorts of artists that do well on Spotify, TikTok, and Instagram, I find those who’ve mastered spectacle (Dua Lipa), relatability (Olivia Rodrigo), and/or “aesthetic” (Chappell Roan). I also find those who’ve figured out how to do all three extremely well and look fabulous doing it (Taylor Swift & Beyoncé). I like and listen to all of these artists. They’re all masters of this particular craft. I just find it helps me to slow down from time to time and focus my attention on those who find less (if any) success in this algorithm-driven landscape.
For anyone willing to take the time, The American Analog Set is a wonderful foray into a world that sits at the intersection of analog and digital. After an 18-year-hiatus, they just recently released a new album last year with new songs, sounds, and ideas. All of their music is on streaming. They have an updated website with a futuristic aesthetic, complete with a merch shop, full discography, and an adorable photograph of a band member’s dog seated in the studio. What’s not to love?
Favorite Songs: “Aaron & Maria” and “Trespassers in the Stereo Field”
Finally, I want to highlight an artist I just found in a genre I don’t typically reach for: neo-soul and R&B. Dragonfruit is an up-and-coming Dutch quartet “born out of a love for sample-hiphop and neo-soul.” And boy, is that TRUE. I found Dragonfruit through, admittedly, the Spotify algorithm. In my defense, they were featured on a Neo-Soul genre playlist, so I’d like to believe it was slightly more organic than having it pop up on my Discover Weekly playlist. Sometimes, (emphasis on some) the algorithm does seem to work.
Truthfully, I’m just grateful to find myself this new music era! My go-to taste tends to fall heavily into folk music, singer-songwriter, and alt-rock, so I love a good mental and emotional reprieve from the omnipresent melancholy characteristic of all of these genres. Dragonfruit is just what the doctor ordered! Just read this excerpt from their website:
“That is the foundation of the Rotterdam-based alt-R&B band Dragonfruit. Influenced by a multitude of sounds ranging from the bouncy drums of hip-hop to the lush melodies of R&B and the energy of club bangers, the band puts itself on the forefront of the modern R&B landscape.”
I could not agree more with this succinct, but jam-packed, portrait of Dragonfruit’s inventive blend of hip-hop, soul, R&B, and club music. The bass lines alone make me want to get up and dance the night away with all my girlfriends. Dragonfruit has quickly become my go-to post-work commute jam, always getting me through the 40 minutes of standing too close to strangers and ignoring creep’s endless stares. More than once, I’ve had a fantasy where one of their songs (preferably “Gears of the Giant Machine”) starts blaring, and everyone around me can’t help but get into the groove. By the end of it, we’re all dancing together as the train rocks back and forth, a la some unhinged music video from the 1980s that would play well on MTV.
As the kids would say, it’s a vibe.
Favorite Songs: “Gears of the Giant Machine” and “Lonely”
Other artists on this playlist I can’t get enough of: (Oh my God, talk about unknown, but immaculate talent)
Grace Cummings
Chris Cohen
Dean Johnson
Ora Cogan
Nico Paulo
Let it be said everyone on this playlist deserves their own fan essay, but I’ll let their music speak for itself (for now…)
Enjoy!