I love music. I’m a music fan. When I get into a band, an artist, or a genre, I really get into it. I buy the records, I read about it, and I listen. And listen.
Or. At least. I used to.
A few years ago I put up all of my albums onto my computer, through iTunes, thinking, this will be way easier than dealing the CDs. Just click and I can listen to whoever. Or, hey, shuffle, and I’ll just let the music flow over me.
I listen to music because it strikes my emotions, it tickles my imagination. It moves me. I choose albums and songs to inspire my writing.
But. Shuffle. Seriously. Ruined. It.
Because now the music washes over me. Like water. Or. Actually, like air. I don’t feel it. The computer is doing the “mixing,” which is less fancy talk for algorithm.
There’s no soul behind it. Now, the music is just stuff that plays in the background. It doesn’t inspire because it wasn’t chosen by inspiration.
When I pick and choose from my catalogue I REdiscover something I haven’t heard in ages. And I’m excited. Lately, with shuffle, I don’t even hear it.
Which is depressing. Shuffle was meant to be surprising, but it’s just easy. Thoughtless. Careless.
No wonder it’s not inspiring.
Suck it, shuffle.