On The Times They Are A-Changin’, Bob Dylan’s 1964 third studio album and first with 100% “original” material, the guitar playing folk singer said, “The times… they are a changin’.” Nearly sixty years removed from that title track—written about the social a-changes of the decade in which it came out, in an era when the physical limitations of vinyl still dictated the distribution and consumption of music—the “album” as a form has barely a-changed. Technology has progressed, as has society, but the dissemination and consumption of music has not.
The un-a-changed nature of “albums” is a concept I’ve been thinking and writing about a lot this year. When Black Star released No Fear of Time in May 2022, 24 years after Mos Def and Talib Kweli’s debut collaborative LP, they demonstrated that an “album” doesn’t need to conform to traditional standards. It can, in fact, be a “podcast.” In this Passion of the Weiss piece, I argued that the Luminary exclusivity of that “podcast/album” went against the openness of RSS technology, but set a necessary high-profile foundation for bringing music into what has historically been a talk-centric medium. When Lil Baby’s It’s Only Me came out in October 2022, I wrote about how none of his albums are traditionally great, but that hasn’t stopped him from being the greatest rapper. How he makes “albums” for the DSP era: a new form that could more accurately be described as an overlong playlist of new material.
So artists—either consciously or not—are exploring new standards of how music can be distributed. Listener expectations, however, remain stuck in 1964. We want musicians to make “albums,” because that is the form in which we collectively agree music should be packaged. How else would we make lists? How else would we compare? How else would we consume?
When I created this blog, I set a goal of publishing a new article every week. That simple task proved more difficult than expected, but the self-imposed schedule has forced me to create. On days like today—writing at 6:30am the day after DST ended without my dog’s knowledge, so she started slapping me for breakfast an hour earlier than expected—I feel compelled to eject something into the ether. It’s a different process than writing a book (shameless self-promo in the hyperlink), or working on one of the afore-linked articles. But for me (and maybe you?) it is better than nothing. This blog post might not be a fully-formed cohesive work like The Times They Are A-Changin’. It’s more like a folk tune a young Bob Dylan performed alone with cold Minnesota fingers on an acoustic guitar, alone, for no one. But it is not nothing. I claim to be a writer so I am writing and sharing that writing. My self-imposed schedule, like the physical limitations of vinyl in 1964, forces me to adapt to a new form.
I am waiting for a musician to a-change the times, and stop worrying about making albums altogether. To release new music on a set schedule, like a Substack newsletter. Perhaps weekly. That’s how podcasters do it. A podcast is an mp3. Why can’t it be music?
Because I work on podcasts for my day job, I’ve been through several interviews in which corporations ask me what got me into podcasts, and what podcasts I listen to currently. The answer to both is the same. Doug Loves Movies. I’m 31 years old and I’ve been listening to that podcast since high school. Hosted by Doug Benson, Doug Loves Movies features a rotating panel of guest comedians, actors, and filmmakers who participate in movie trivia. The formula and inside jokes have a-changed over the years, but the foundation remains the same. The podcast is formulaic and routine, and that’s why I keep listening. Even through the pandemic, when the live recordings in front of nationwide audiences turned to Zoom calls, Doug Loves Movies gets sent to my phone every Monday morning. I don’t have to wait months for a new box set, or for an “album”-like package of new material. Conversational podcasts like this are jazz: improvised performances, explorative riffs on fundamentals, imperfect yet satisfying hour-plus meanderings.
The general form of weekly podcasts came about because that’s how the first podcasters did it. Since then, in the past couple of years, you may have noticed that podcasts are making shorter episodes and publishing more frequently, some to the point of oversaturation. These shows are adapting to the limitations tech companies have imposed upon them. Apple’s Top Charts algorithm favors episodes with high completion rates (hence shorter runtimes) and higher listen rates (hence more episodes). Podcasting as a form has evolved. People want to consume as much content as they can as often as possible. RSS was an alternative to the endless scroll, but now it is melding into it.
These are all half-baked ideas that I’ve written about more extensively in my more well-thought-out articles, and I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with the concept. I am probably overthinking it. Chris Crack drops some projects on Soundcloud only. RXKNephew sometimes posts only on YouTube. People make their own mixtapes or playlists. Phish and Pearl Jam or Grateful Dead have hella bootlegs of live shows. Artists release singles. Or videos. Or exclusives. Or TikToks. A writer who publishes a weekly Substack doesn’t have to stop working on their novel. Music, like any art, can exist simultaneously in multiple forms. The album doesn’t have to die. Why am I harping on this?
Maybe it’s because I’m waiting for an artist to do what I could just do myself. I made a beat last night using a voice memo I took of some horn players serenading yo y mi grupo de turistas en la ciudad de mexico earlier this year. I put the horn sounds into Logic’s sampler and added some drums and synth bass using the program’s musical typing grid. After going to Fred Again’s album listening party recently I decided I’m going to dedicate my life to being a producer, so I might as well start sharing these on an RSS feed. You can check out this trash ass beat here:
https://architecturedance.transistor.fm/