Being physical might limit where you could put a thing, but it has nothing to do with how many ways we could categorize things. The Internet just make it simple and obvious, that’s all.

Song is a natural unit, so is an album (a group of songs). In fact all beings are natural units. In any case, an album is more than a list, and it is a natural unit worth being categorized.

I guess my point is, a group is ALWAYS larger than the simple sum of the things within the group, and EVERYTHING is a group.

The SONG is definitely the natural unit, plain and simple. To Nick’s point, any margins (set arbitrarily) can inspire creativity. No one is arguing that. But in this case, the margins were defined and set by physical demands, which, again, is your point. There is absolutely nothing inherent

I just recently picked up the book, but if those are the kinds of arguments you have to defend the book against, I feel for you.

>:-P

As to the general discussion, the alternative to disorder is obviously datorder. Or maybe an udderorder.

So to speak.

I know writing is hard work, and congrats on finishing the book, on a personal level. But …

What bothers me is the structure, as shown here, of a constant commercial for Internet evangelism: “[blather][patter][hype], so Old Media BAD, New Media GOOD” (for “BAD”, read “constraining”, for “GOOD”, read “liberating”).

When anyone points out the “[blather][patter][hype]“, you have options of, e.g.:

1) Misunderstand them
2) Say “But still, I believe Old Media BAD, New Media GOOD” – ignoring the objection that the conclusion doesn’t follow from the premise
3) Apply even MORE “[blather][patter][hype]” – it’s about philosophy, it’s about Aristotle, it’s about anything *other* than being accurate in the reasoning

Here, you had a pitch to make about iTunes and unbundling – and how you got there was to tell a story that was *wrong*. When it’s pointed out to you that the story is wrong, in fact almost backwards from what really happened, your defense is that, had you known it, you would have told a better story (“had I known the history … I would have said something like”)! Umm, OK, but that really seems to indicate that it’s just a manipulative component in service of your primary goal of the sales-pitch.

The questions about win/lose is a complex one, and there’s a trivial argument that more is better. It isn’t always automatically better, if bad drives out good. And there are deep mathematical phenomena where increasing options can lead to less performance overall. But it’s impossible to have a rational argument if reasoning is subservient to evangelization (or, inversely, fogeyism).

What seems to make the book a marketing brochure, rather than a philosophical reflection (even popular philosophy), is that your business constraints won’t allow you to grant anything against the business interest. You can refute this by pointing me to the passage where you are most critical – where you say : this is *not* as good as what went before, we are losing this, the effects are negative (note people like Keen make their living by being the mirror-image, by denying we gain anything, which is also unfair).

And serious question: At what point would a blogger be justified in writing: “I’ve given this book a chance, but what I’ve read of it seems like it’s full of constant commercials for the author’s particular brand of net-gurudom, so I didn’t find it worth going further.”?

First, thanks for the contribution, here and on your site.

Since playlists give us both the artist’s expression plus the possibility of many other expressions – some reflecting mere personal taste, some exploring deeply the meaning between various tracks – I don’t think it’s a mistake to assume that the playlist is an improvement.

Let me put this differently: If the ability of artists to add value and meaning to their work went up once they were able to stipulate a play order, how much more value and meaning is created when others are given the same ability? Not everyone is going to be good at this, but some are.

And on a small point, Nick: In the book I do not “assume” that the playlist is an improvement. The rest of the book is an attempt to show that our ability to fluidly order and re-order ideas, information and knowledge is (a) new and (b) significant. And, yes, overall (c) I do think it’s good thing for business, culture, science, education. But, then, I’m just a happy fella :)

Nick, I truly hope you weren’t so turned off by the passage about iTunes that you were unable to read any further. I look forward to being taken to task by you about the rest of the book…

To return to Phil’s question: My fundamental point regarding the album form wasn’t just that it was originally developed for an aesthetic reason (to accommodate longer classical works than 78s could accommodate) – which I agree you could have dealt with in a clause – but that, as it was adapted to other musical forms, it set off an explosion in creativity in popular music. Far from being a constraint on expression – imposed on musicians and listeners by the economic requirements of the physical world – the rigid physical format of the LP actually liberated artistic expression and created a wealth of new choices for listeners. It would be a mistake to assume that the malleable, digital playlist represents an improvement over the rigid, physical LP.

Nick

Yes, reordering strips the songs of their context. But it can provide new context…new meaning. And the old context is there if that’s what you prefer.

Would you find no value in being able to listen to, say, Keith Richards’ Beatles playlist via an Internet jukebox? Or a playlist of anti-war – or pro-war – songs? Or Noam Chomsky’s favorite rock songs? Or your roommates playlist of favorite arias? Should we not have that freedom? Or are you saying we’d be wise not to avail ourselves of that freedom because we lose the songs’ original context? Or are you bemoaning the change that is upon us, and reminding us that there’s a cost to our new freedom? Or some of or none of the above?

(BTW, your comment is totally germane to my book. I look forward to your post.)

But, in the third order of order, we can get not only the Beatles’ way of arranging their White Album, we can also get George Martin’s remix, how Ringo wanted it played , the revelatory way some unknown kid in Akron mixes it up with the Beach Boys, and the original order minus that one song we can’t stand (AKA “Revolution #9).

And here I thought that song no one liked was “Helter Skelter”, which I spent a lot of time playing on jukeboxes to piss people off (and for my own listening enjoyment, because it’s a killer song). Or was my use of the jukebox to isolate that track a way of hearing the song differently?

No, I don’t think so. My playing the jukebox was a coerced compromise with the market. There was a certain aesthetic pleasure in hearing the song out of context, but the context I was breaking was the surrounding commercial environment, not the White Album.

Now we have internet-enabled jukeboxes which can spit out any song for a dollar. It’s great for commerce, I suppose, but it takes the joy out of finding a bar where the jukebox is carefully tended. No more requesting of the owner that the limited selection on the jukebox be augmented by adding Sticky Fingers so I’d never be out of reach of “Sway”. No more reading the jukebox to get a sense of what bar I’ve wandered into.

David, I grant you there are virtues to being able to rework (for instance) the sequence of songs on an LP.

Listening to This Year’s Modelin the British version (twelve songs, with “(I Don’t Want to Go to) Chelsea” and “Night Rally”) is certainly different from listening to the American version (eleven songs, with “Radio Radio”), and different in an interesting and enjoyable way. Listening to the CD, which makes a compromise by putting all the thirteen songs in “order”, is not so enjoyable. “Night Rally” and “Radio Radio” are both closers, and both very different songs. “Night Rally” suffers badly in this ordering, and that’s sad.

(I first knew “Night Rally” from Taking Liberties. It’s odd to hear it followed by something other than country and western.)

Musicians put a lot of care into track ordering (and set lists!) for a reason, and that ordering should be privileged.

I’m not an absolutist about the primacy of authorial intent–I’ve acquired a lot of alternative versions over the years–but I suspect we lose more than we gain when it becomes ever easier for listeners to skip over “Revolution #9″. Yes, I’ve skipped that song (though I love it) on occasion, but having it in your ears, and in your face, should be the default, just as the John/Yoko alternation of Milk and Honey should be the default. Doing otherwise strips the songs of their context, aesthetic, cultural, and personal.

It’s good for sales, though. I give that devil its due.

There’s a lot more to say about this, but it’s not really germane to your book (which I’m still looking forward to reading). I’ll be putting something up on my own weblog soon, and I’ll track it back in the event there’s interest.