The post-fidelity era

Guberman, Daniel. Post-Fidelity: A New Age of Music Consumption and Technological Innovation. Journal of Popular Music Studies, Volume 23, Issue 4, pp 431–454

Guberman divides the history of recorded music into two distinct sections: the fidelity era, stretching from Thomas Edison through the invention of the compact disk, and the post-fidelity era, beginning with the iPod. He argues that, since about 2001, the listening public has come to value convenience, variety, personalization and curation over sound quality.

An emblematic image of the late fidelity era: the Maxell advertisement showing a wealthy young man in his home, sitting deep in an easy chair with a martini, getting physically blown away by giant, powerful speakers.

The emblematic image of the post-fidelity era: silhoutted people of both genders and diverse backgrounds, dancing with iPods.

During the fidelity era, publications and advertisements focused on the “realness” of recording media and playback. High-end stereo equipment became steadily more elaborate and expensive in the pursuit of ever-better clarity and dynamic range. Even the Walkman was initially promoted in terms of its sound quality. Guberman cites a 1980 New York Times article rhapsodizing about the “astonishing . . . fact that a pocket-size set plays true stereo sound with stereo-separation.” By the end of the twentieth century, though, even the most exacting audiophiles were no longer expecting much in the way of further improvements in recording or playback fidelity. While the compact disk was initially presented and marketed for its clarity of sound, its real selling point quickly became convenience: the ability to skip tracks, not having to flip records, not needing to replace needles and so on.

The MP3 format didn’t immediately challenge the values of audiophiles. The format was a technical curiosity mostly of interest to computer enthusiasts, and the first generation of portable players were considered geeky toys, not serious listening devices. When the iPod was first introduced, it wasn’t met with much enthusiasm. The iPod was relatively expensive, worked with Macintosh computers only, and didn’t boast any major technological advantages. No audiophile would have predicted that it meant the beginning of the end of fidelity culture. But the iPod’s attractive visual aesthetic and remarkably simple user interface helped bring MP3s into the mainstream.

In the past ten years, the iPod and devices like it have changed our relationship to recorded music. We now expect that we can carry a vast quantity of music wherever we go, that we can create playlists at will, and that we can access our libraries via intuitive and attractive interfaces. Furthermore, MP3 software and players introduced the shuffle feature. Some CD players were able to shuffle the tracks on a single disk, but the ability to randomly play from among hundreds or thousands of songs is another qualitative experience entirely. Fidelity has been so completely overtaken by convenience and variety that, as Guberman points out, CDs are frequently purchased just to be converted into MP3 files. Furthermore, elaborate and expensive home stereo systems that might once have centered around a high-end turntable and amplifier are now designed specifically for MP3 playback.

Record companies have been slow to embrace the post-fidelity mindset. They worked to stem the tide of MP3s while pouring resources into higher-end digital formats like the SACD and DVD-A. As recently as five years ago, I was employed to write marketing copy for these formats, and it was difficult to muster an enthusiastic tone for products I knew were of interest to almost no one. Technology companies like Apple and Amazon have been the beneficiaries of post-fidelity culture, while the record labels are in a tailspin.

Today, the audiophile community has largely been subsumed by the home theater and hardcore gamer communities. While these groups value good sound, they also give weight to picture quality, engaging content, the physical appearance of their gear and various other considerations. Guberman cites the prevalence of speakers designed more for aesthetics than functionality, like the tall, slender towers popular in home theaters setups. He further notes that, even among audiophiles, discussions tend to center around actual music, rather than the technology used to play it back. He surveys the Audioholics forum and finds that

[t]he most popular discussion threads include ‘best female voice,’ ‘best male voice,’ and ‘20 albums you should own but probably don’t.’ All of these involve users recommending albums to each other for various reasons, rarely mentioning the sound quality. Instead users try to describe the appeal of the music itself.

This is for the best. Music technology exists to convey music, and it’s healthier to focus on the music than the technology for its own sake.

Even the MP3 doesn’t represent the lowest-fidelity music experience. That distinction goes to the increasingly common practice of listening to music with the small, low-quality speakers in laptops, tablets and even cell phones. If you’ve taken public transportation in a major city in the past ten years, you’ve probably heard teenagers playing music for each other from their phones. The UK has a slang term for this practice: sodcasting (with sod meaning “inconsiderate jerk.”) Sodcasting is considered a nuisance by most non-adolescents, and in 2006, London mayor Ken Livingstone went so far as to call for a sodcasting ban. But social music sharing is a fundamental part of our social life, and we should expect kids to do it with whatever tools are at hand. Some scholars take a more positive view of sodcasting, which  technomusicologist Wayne Marshall terms “treble culture.”

Guberman observes that while we’ve lost something in the post-fidelity era, we’ve gained a ton from the access of vast digital music databases. When searching an online store or file-sharing site for a particular song, we serendipitously encounter other songs that happen to share a word their titles. Guberman gives the example of a search that turns up both Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” and Blue Öyster Cult. This kind of effortless, semi-random encounter has been a source of inspiration for the current generation of musicians. For example, the wildly eclectic singer-songwriter Janelle Monáe has said specifically that she wants her albums to create the sensation of an iPod on shuffle.

Post-fidelity culture impacts the sonic qualities of contemporary pop as well. Smart producers recognize that their work will likely be heard in less-than-optimal listening conditions, and adjust their process accordingly. Hip-hop producers in particular design their mixes for real-life listening: in cars and clubs, and on noisy streets, buses and trains. In the 1990s, Los Angeles hip-hop producers were already in the habit of listening to mixes in progress in the car. Current pop and dance music favors fat synthesized bass sounds and kick drums with a lot of overtones. These sounds work well on tiny speakers, because the upper harmonics supply enough information that the listener can fill in the lower ones mentally. Similarly, high-pitched, crisp synthesizers bracketed by abrupt silences cut well through noise and poor speakers. By keeping the midrange relatively empty, producers can design their music to coexist with engine noise, people talking, humming air conditioners and fans, airplanes and all the other noise pollution we find ourselves immersed in. Music of the high-fidelity era fares poorly in such conditions.

Like most technological changes, post-fidelity culture brings both losses and gains. Consider again the two advertisements. The Maxell guy in the fidelity era has great sound, but he enjoys it alone in his home (aside from his butler.) The post-fidelity iPod people are dancing in a social context. Audiophiles lament the MP3 and treble culture, but these developments facilitate the social sharing and connection that is music’s true purpose.