Although the classical 20th-century music snob still endures vestigially, the species peaked with Gen X before breathing its dying gasps through Elder Millennials and ‘00s hipsterdom, at which point poptimism and the internet’s democratizing forces finally crushed the phenomenon for good (Pitchfork not only helped euthanize it but provided the movement’s palliative care during its twilight years).
In music-snobdom at least, one thing that has been lost is the sense of community. Previously two music lovers - ahem, snobs - could unite around their shared sense of good taste; now, with everything churned and resurfaced by the algorithm, a listener cannot be certain that the music they like is even worth talking about to anyone else, and loneliness is the reward of admiration and enjoyment of a piece of music. Of course, a snob might not be able to find another person who also was a snob in the same way, but at least the awareness of a canon of taste meant that the snob had the potential for finding community with other snobs. This has been lost.
I would date the decline of the snob a little earlier than you do, perhaps starting in the 1960s with the divide between classical music snobs and devotees of Jazz. Theodore Gracyk's "Rhythm and Noise" has an excellent chapter on this division, in which he discusses Theodore Adorno's displeasure at Jazz lovers and especially (gasp!) those who enjoy rock. As the century progressed, with punk, new wave, and goth subcultures fabricating alterna-canons of snobbery, the hold which classical music had on the culture at large was wiped away, priming the internet era for the temporal and spatial obfuscation that you describe.
FWIW, I've been listening to the Terry Riley album mentioned in your title since I was about fifteen years old. I'm an older millennial, and was at one time one of the last of the music snobs.
Haha, yes, we're probably around the same age - that Terry Riley is fantastic - and I too feel like I caught the tail end of the snobbery era and managed to enjoy it for a while as it ended before shifting gears. I'll have to check out that Gracyk book, sounds fascinating and pertinent to this discussion.
You're right about the community thing - that was definitely a major benefit of the music orthodoxy that has since dissolved, you could always find other people who were plugged into the same culture/discourse as you (there were obviously disadvantages to that orthodoxy as well, for those who weren't plugged into it).
The tactile nature of analog culture and the need for physical/spatial infrastructure (record stores, localized scenes, etc) certainly also supported that kind of community. Internet forums do too in their own way but it's a different kind of community that often feels more ephemeral.
The ideal "music snob" today is less Comic Book Guy (and/or Rob Gordon) and more your friend's cool older brother; home from college, and stoked that you're interested in what they're listening to.
Algorithms might be fascinating-I think so, anyway- but there's no magic in my showing you the playlist on my phone screen.
Yep. That's almost a separate discussion but digital streaming eliminates many of the tactile manifestations of music that make it easier for people to share the experience of it. Obviously Spotify etc have tried to make the platform more "social" but it always feels forced and artificial, not inherent to the medium.
I enjoyed reading this post! I actually found my way here through Mark Dykeman, who commented above.
As an Elder Millennial (or Gen Yer, which is what I remember being called growing up), I definitely participated in that dying breath of music snobbery. I remember having unspoken competitions with people in my dorm about who could be the most in-the-know about underground indie bands. What music you listened to certainly was part of your personality in a way that was more powerful than it is today.
Your commentary on the memory component rings true. A few weeks ago I realized that I know way less about individual artists now, thanks to music streaming services. If I hear and like a song by an artist that is unknown (to me), I’ll just click “Add to playlist” and it will join a long list of songs that have the same “vibe” and that I can later put on in the background while doing...whatever I happen to be doing at the time. A few times I’ve noticed that I’ll recognize the song but not remember the artist or title. We’ve come a long way from diligently seeking out rare recordings to download and add to curated mix tapes.
Thanks for reading/commenting Kiki - glad you can relate! That experience you're describing is definitely one that I had too, and probably the original inspiration for this post. There are obviously drawbacks to the culture of music snobbery but the benefits were pretty great, and identifying with music in that way was such a deep way to engage with it.
It does concern me that I'm not forming new relationships with music that are as strong as the ones I formed back in that era. Some of that is surely a part of getting older, but I really do think the streaming medium is also a big reason - as you mention it seems to relegate music to the background more than other ways of listening, and it tends to minimize the details (artist, title, album art) as well as our awareness of them by putting everything on autopilot. Of course, it's great having all the music in the world at our fingertips, but that analog process of searching and discovering music was also a huge source of meaning that has been eroded.
I can't quite articulate it, but there's something much more intentional (?) about the way music discovery used to be. And social proof didn't come from metrics like views or clicks; it came from your friend telling you how good a record was, or the person crate digging next you at the shop.
And tbh, people had much move (literally) invested. You used to have to buy the record, and if it sucked, you were out what felt like a lot of money. Today, if you don't like a song on Spotify, you scan just skip it.
Yeah, the bottleneck of paying for music made me consume it much more slowly/deliberately, and sorta forced me to really pay attention to whatever I bought, because it was scarce. Not saying that's necessarily better, but it at least deepened my relationship with the music I listened to.
Thanks Mark. I'd actually say that it's not so much "history" as "memory" that is being eroded - like, we still have objective awareness of past narratives, but we're less likely to internalize it or assume responsibility for stewarding those narratives as individuals. I should also add that I don't even think this is necessarily limited to younger generations - many older people seem to have been similarly afflicted (although if you're above a certain age you did experience formative years before certain technologies emerged).
In music-snobdom at least, one thing that has been lost is the sense of community. Previously two music lovers - ahem, snobs - could unite around their shared sense of good taste; now, with everything churned and resurfaced by the algorithm, a listener cannot be certain that the music they like is even worth talking about to anyone else, and loneliness is the reward of admiration and enjoyment of a piece of music. Of course, a snob might not be able to find another person who also was a snob in the same way, but at least the awareness of a canon of taste meant that the snob had the potential for finding community with other snobs. This has been lost.
I would date the decline of the snob a little earlier than you do, perhaps starting in the 1960s with the divide between classical music snobs and devotees of Jazz. Theodore Gracyk's "Rhythm and Noise" has an excellent chapter on this division, in which he discusses Theodore Adorno's displeasure at Jazz lovers and especially (gasp!) those who enjoy rock. As the century progressed, with punk, new wave, and goth subcultures fabricating alterna-canons of snobbery, the hold which classical music had on the culture at large was wiped away, priming the internet era for the temporal and spatial obfuscation that you describe.
FWIW, I've been listening to the Terry Riley album mentioned in your title since I was about fifteen years old. I'm an older millennial, and was at one time one of the last of the music snobs.
Haha, yes, we're probably around the same age - that Terry Riley is fantastic - and I too feel like I caught the tail end of the snobbery era and managed to enjoy it for a while as it ended before shifting gears. I'll have to check out that Gracyk book, sounds fascinating and pertinent to this discussion.
You're right about the community thing - that was definitely a major benefit of the music orthodoxy that has since dissolved, you could always find other people who were plugged into the same culture/discourse as you (there were obviously disadvantages to that orthodoxy as well, for those who weren't plugged into it).
The tactile nature of analog culture and the need for physical/spatial infrastructure (record stores, localized scenes, etc) certainly also supported that kind of community. Internet forums do too in their own way but it's a different kind of community that often feels more ephemeral.
The ideal "music snob" today is less Comic Book Guy (and/or Rob Gordon) and more your friend's cool older brother; home from college, and stoked that you're interested in what they're listening to.
Algorithms might be fascinating-I think so, anyway- but there's no magic in my showing you the playlist on my phone screen.
Yep. That's almost a separate discussion but digital streaming eliminates many of the tactile manifestations of music that make it easier for people to share the experience of it. Obviously Spotify etc have tried to make the platform more "social" but it always feels forced and artificial, not inherent to the medium.
I enjoyed reading this post! I actually found my way here through Mark Dykeman, who commented above.
As an Elder Millennial (or Gen Yer, which is what I remember being called growing up), I definitely participated in that dying breath of music snobbery. I remember having unspoken competitions with people in my dorm about who could be the most in-the-know about underground indie bands. What music you listened to certainly was part of your personality in a way that was more powerful than it is today.
Your commentary on the memory component rings true. A few weeks ago I realized that I know way less about individual artists now, thanks to music streaming services. If I hear and like a song by an artist that is unknown (to me), I’ll just click “Add to playlist” and it will join a long list of songs that have the same “vibe” and that I can later put on in the background while doing...whatever I happen to be doing at the time. A few times I’ve noticed that I’ll recognize the song but not remember the artist or title. We’ve come a long way from diligently seeking out rare recordings to download and add to curated mix tapes.
Thanks for reading/commenting Kiki - glad you can relate! That experience you're describing is definitely one that I had too, and probably the original inspiration for this post. There are obviously drawbacks to the culture of music snobbery but the benefits were pretty great, and identifying with music in that way was such a deep way to engage with it.
It does concern me that I'm not forming new relationships with music that are as strong as the ones I formed back in that era. Some of that is surely a part of getting older, but I really do think the streaming medium is also a big reason - as you mention it seems to relegate music to the background more than other ways of listening, and it tends to minimize the details (artist, title, album art) as well as our awareness of them by putting everything on autopilot. Of course, it's great having all the music in the world at our fingertips, but that analog process of searching and discovering music was also a huge source of meaning that has been eroded.
+1 to all of that.
I can't quite articulate it, but there's something much more intentional (?) about the way music discovery used to be. And social proof didn't come from metrics like views or clicks; it came from your friend telling you how good a record was, or the person crate digging next you at the shop.
And tbh, people had much move (literally) invested. You used to have to buy the record, and if it sucked, you were out what felt like a lot of money. Today, if you don't like a song on Spotify, you scan just skip it.
Yeah, the bottleneck of paying for music made me consume it much more slowly/deliberately, and sorta forced me to really pay attention to whatever I bought, because it was scarce. Not saying that's necessarily better, but it at least deepened my relationship with the music I listened to.
Great post, very thought provoking. I wonder if the younger generations really do have a lack of understanding of history.
Thanks Mark. I'd actually say that it's not so much "history" as "memory" that is being eroded - like, we still have objective awareness of past narratives, but we're less likely to internalize it or assume responsibility for stewarding those narratives as individuals. I should also add that I don't even think this is necessarily limited to younger generations - many older people seem to have been similarly afflicted (although if you're above a certain age you did experience formative years before certain technologies emerged).