May 30, 2005
Lady Mix-a-Lot
Every once in a while I read an article that really stands out and hits me. (Well, that happens more than I'd like to admit, but if I did, it would look like I'm interested.) I saw this one on Salon this morning. It feels odd to think about mix tapes as being something to study or treat as a dying art.
When I found out how easy it was to make a cassette tape of my favorite music, that's all I wanted to do. My dad showed me how to record my 45s onto a tape, and I was in love. Over time, the 45s became other cassettes and then CDs. Now that I have my iPod, I wonder if I would ever make a mix tape again. I have dozens of them out in storage, just sitting in an old backpack, some without covers or labels. Half the fun in playing the unmarked tapes is finding out what's on them! I brought some of them back with me and they're here, I can see them now, and every so often I go through them for a listen or two.
I've always been impressed at how music has such a huge effect on me and my state of mind. If ever I'm in a bad mood or need to be cheered up, I'll look for the B-52s. If I need to feel nostalgic (which is bad in itself), I'll play some Bananarama or 10,000 Maniacs. I have mix tapes of all of them, but I also have my iPod now. Such a conflict. I can't think that I'll ever get rid of the tapes. I'll keep them until they break or until there's no more technology to support them. I have an old Walkman whose cover won't even stay closed anymore (I dropped it and snapped the plastic hinge). So I wrapped a super-sized rubber band around the thing to keep the tape in. This is what I use to listen to the tapes. I know it's ghetto, and almost a little sad, but I can't get rid of it.
Some of my favorite mix tapes were made by friends with whom I lost contact years ago. They're reminders of a relationship from a different time. Some of the tapes I have are copies of tapes I gave to people, copies I made for myself because I liked the mix so much I wanted one for me. One tape in particular, a nicely composed cassette liner and everything, was made for a dear, dear friend before I moved to the Bay Area. I never had a chance to give it to her (and who knows how to work the postal system, you know), and so I've kept it all this time as my reminder of her. Isn't that odd? But I think that is by far the best mix tape I have ever made, and I simply can't get rid of it. A few of the tapes I've made and been given I've even gone to the extent of duplicating on CD so I can listen in better quality or to preserve the song lists even longer.
And then there are the tapes that are irretrievably lost due to theft of vandalism. The first time my car was broken into, my old ’83 Rabbit, I had ten tapes, all mixes, stolen with the tape deck. I can understand the radio, but why the tapes? They have no monetary value whatsoever, and who wants to buy a mix tape on the street? Or worse, to think that the loser thief threw them all away when he realized that they weren't the latest New Order or Pearl Jam tapes.
I miss the tapes more than the radio. I'll never forget them, though I can't remember their lists. One of them, from Skot, was so eclectic, so unique to my ears, it was the best learning experience, the best awakening out of ’80s pop and into ’80s alternative/new wave/punk. I listened to that tape for hours over and over again, memorizing the words to "Daisy" by Danielle Dax and "How Soon Is Now?" by the Smiths way before it was the theme to one of my favorite TV shows. When Napster came along, I instantly went searching for some of these songs in order to reconnect to that feeling of new and different, even though by that time I had amassed my own collection of new and different, thanks to Skot and his tapes. Talk about a mix tape lover. He made them for every occasion, every road trip, every new artist he found. He would decorate the tapes and the liners with his own hand, his own unique handwriting. They were works of art, in my opinion, and they're the ones I miss the most.
Mix CDs just don't cut it like tapes do, and mix playlists on the iPod are I guess the new standard, but how do you give a playlist to someone without giving them the song files, too? I've thought a lot about this recently. I'm going to move soon, and when I do, I fully intend to leave Roommate a CD or some sort of compilation of songs by which he will always remember/never forget me. It's wholly unnecessary because after eleven years, I can't forget him no matter how hard I try and I'm guessing it's the same for him, but that's not the point. I intend the mix to be biting and sarcastic but touching and a bit melodramatic. How do I do that on the iPod without grabbing his and downloading the songs on to it? And then, how do I ensure that he will listen to the songs in the order I want without shuffling through them and breaking their connections to one another?
Change is good, and heaven knows I love technology and gadgets, but sometimes the old-fashioned way is the best way. Sure we sacrifice quality with mix tapes, but that's not what they're about anyway. I often made them to give a piece of me to someone else, to introduce them to a bit of my life and how I think. I miss that, and I miss having friends who like the idea of sharing music instead of SMS messages.
