Dear Disgruntled Fans
An open letter to pop fans who feel robbed and exploited by their idols
Dear Disgruntled Fans,
I hear you are feeling “robbed” by your favourite artists for releasing multiple editions of the same record. You also question the ethics of this practice.
Let me tell you a little story. It won’t take long.
I grew up in Argentina in the 90s. Like you, I was obsessed with pop music. Your Taylor was my Mariah. Your Drake was my Michael. Your Harry, my George. Your Ariana, my Whitney.
Money was tight. Buying multiple editions felt like a complete luxury. Why would you do that, my friends asked, when you could buy another record?
Did I mention I grew up in Argentina? Don’t get me started on Spanish-language bonus tracks, a staple of 90s pop hits!
Yes, their pronunciation was terrible, and yes, we made fun of them, but I still bought these records, alongside the original US/UK imports, when available.
The truth is, when the choice was between more of what I loved versus a little bit of what I liked, I chose love. All the way.
Unapologetically, I still do.
You might disagree, but the point is you have a choice. Nowadays you can stream songs for free, buy records from multiple sources, and watch unboxing reels before you pay.
If your favourite artist is currently topping the charts, enjoy. Seriously. It won’t last forever.
When your idol is at the pinnacle of their success, you should savour every moment. Hopefully, they will go on to have a legendary career, but there are only so many landmark records an artist can make.
Remember the four singers I mentioned from my childhood? Only one of them is alive. The other three were gone too soon.
If your fandom is more than a passing fad, you will go back to their landmark records. Time and time again. For the rest of your life.
Daydream (1995) was career-defining and genre-defying: it brought urban/R&B to the forefront of mainstream pop and continues to influence entire generations of artists. With global sales of over 20m, it has been diamond certified by the RIAA, and its singles spent a combined 6 months atop the Hot 100. And I still spin it like it’s 1995!
Your artist’s values may not be fully aligned with yours, but what matters more to you: their values or how their music makes you feel? What is more likely to have a lasting impact in 10, 20 or 30 years? Only you will know the answer.
No, this is not Times Square in 1995. This is Manila (Philippines) in 2014!
Stars of this magnitude are part of a huge machine in constant motion. Bigger than you. Bigger than them.
Celebrate when there’s market demand for your idol, and don’t despair if you can’t buy everything you want right now. There’s fun in the chase. Imagine dying with an empty wantlist!
I know first-hand the pain of wanting something you can’t have. Counting pennies one by one at the record store.
I would go through it all over again, because it taught me not to take anything for granted.
Some of the records you see in these pictures were bought this way… with blood, sweat and tears.
Life is short. Careers end abruptly. You never know when your idol might be taken away from you.
But one thing is certain: when you no longer see their names plastered everywhere, when the frenzy calms down, when the press tries to write them off, when you realise they are not immortal… when the dust settles and the party is over, their records will live on.
Thanks for reading/listening. Happy spinning!
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"The truth is, when the choice was between more of what I loved versus a little bit of what I liked, I chose love. All the way."
Amen to that. For me -- and this is different from what you're writing, I realise -- I have to have a heart connection with music for it to have meaning for me. And I'll take that heart connection over transitory appreciation anyday.
At the risk of devolving your lovely piece into yet another "streaming vs vinyl" discussion, which is not my intention, as much as I appreciate and avail myself of the pleasures of instant gratification and musical tourism with the ability to listen to everything ever recorded instantly, I miss the days when I ached... ached in the same way one might ache for an absent lover... for music that I could not listen to until I saved money for the album. I remember laying in bed awake at night fantasizing about the album I was longing for. And on the day when I was able to go and buy it, feeling like I was rushing to meet my beloved. Those albums.... those albums still have magic for me in a way that things I stream don't have. And I would give a lot for just one more of those experiences. The idea that that are things out there by the artists I'm in love with that I haven't heard is precious to me. (Part of why I still haven't listend to Now and Then.) Sometimes the ache for what we don't have and can't hear is as sweet as the satisfaction of hearing it.
We've lost the sweetness of longing.
Andres, are those photos of all the Mariah records your personal collection? I assume yes (and great di”splay” of them on the white background!). You are a true superfan. Even with my favorite bands, I don’t think I have more than two versions of any record. Even when space wasn’t a concern I was always a bit of a penny pincher. I am at a point where I don’t buy much physical media anymore (for reasons financial and spacial), but going through my collection, which covers 45 years of my life and probably 85 of musical life, I can access that original excitement from when I bought each record just by looking at it.