The Name of the Game
My growing frustration with Substack, best-of lists, Spotify wrapped screenshots and end-of-year retrospectives
Substack can be a funny place.
This week, I published one note a day promoting my latest post on the importance of keeping things real and being authentic with our music choices.
The response was subdued. Lukewarm at best.
In the meantime, at roughly the same time of day, I posted two other notes in quick succession: a US map showing the highest-grossing artists per state of origin, and a map of England showing the biggest-selling musicians per English county.
Lo and behold, these two notes got a lot more interest than my musings on being authentic.
We love hyping up the Substack community as a place where we can engage in meaningful conversations, share what’s really close to our hearts, and move discussions away from the sensationalist feeding frenzy of other platforms.
But it would seem that a reflection-inducing audio post is too much effort. A flashy map showing top artists per region? Now we’re talking!
There is a tendency among music fans, particularly record collectors, to pit stuff against each other all the time. Albums, songs, artists, formats… Everything gets scrutinised, compared and eventually ranked.
The constant need to compare and rank music has always puzzled me. Where does it come from? Is it a hangover from sports life? Why do we need to classify records according to their perceived superiority?
Music rankings have been around for almost a century. They are the industry’s gold standard of categorising music according to objective data such as sales, airplay and, more recently, streams.
What’s interesting is that music fans seem to have imported this system of institutionalised ranking into our own living rooms. We rank what we like because there has to be a winner.
For all the ink that has been spilled on the subjective nature of art, the anti-system mantras of the punk and hippie movements, and the defence of non-patriarchal forms of interaction, the urge to compare and rank always finds a way of infiltrating pretty much every corner of music discussion nowadays.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t see any value at all in this. The process of carefully choosing, curating and highlighting artists or works that have left their mark on our lives necessarily involves a strong sense of purpose and intentionality. This is particularly refreshing in a world where virtually all music is available at the click of a button.
But at this time of year, it feels like one of those mysteriously inherited traditions we’re not really sure how we ended up celebrating. Importantly, there seems to be very little appetite on the part of readers for anything that doesn’t arrange works of art in some form of hierarchy.
Don’t think I’m pointing fingers—I’ve also been guilty of this. For starters, as I said earlier, I’ve pitted the two types of Substack notes against each other.
But there’s more.
When I started collecting vinyl, I was devouring audio technology material like many other young collectors, and I went down the rabbit hole of trying to untangle the so-called battle of the formats. I did a couple of crazy sound experiments back in the day. Some were at best questionable. Others were mind-blowing.
The biggest lesson I learned? Enjoy the damn music. Feel it with every single cell of your being. Without that, there’s nothing.
I’m sure many of you don’t need this reminder. I certainly did back in the day. And I remind myself of this every now and then… lest I forget.
Much of my life revolves around obsessively keeping track of things. Progressive overload. Counting calories. Counting everything. Logging food. Yes, even at Christmas. No, I’m not kidding.
Perfectionism is pervasive enough to creep into every single project I decide to undertake.
But during my vinyl hour I can be free. Free from tracking, itemising and ranking. Free from the darkest corners of my mind.
Don’t take everything so seriously, I hear you say. I wish there was a switch I could turn on and off. I can’t always tame this ocean of complexity I’ve been given.
So you will excuse me for not ranking the records I’ve been spinning the most this year. I cannot take a snapshot of my vinyl ritual and wrap it up with a bow without feeling like I would be betraying the most sacred promise I made to myself.
Spinning vinyl is what keeps me sane. Or less insane. It’s what keeps me alive.
I guess that’s why I’m not keeping score.
Thanks for reading/listening. Happy spinning.
An interesting and good reflective read, Andres. Thank you.
I hear you on the strangeness of what gets people to read and engage. Back in September, I wrote an entire post about why I stopped watching American football (and stopped supporting the team I grew up with), and it is one of my least-read pieces. Yet, I wish it was one of my most read, as it deals with the silent complicity of abuse, power, and money and how every fan who watches is, in effect, supporting the very machine that feeds all of the above. But not too many people were interested. It's the same when I write about art. I think people come to my page not wanting to think about paintings but rather to read about music. And, that's ok. I won't stop writing about what is on my mind, whether it's about a record, a painter, or the abuse of power. And, nor should you (I know you won't).
Regarding Notes... I honestly only use it to promote my latest pieces (and when I do, I'm not sure if it even helps). I find the endless scrolling of Notes to be one of the reasons why I left social media in the first place. It has definitely led me to discover some interesting pieces and writers, just as I hope people may have discovered me and my posts that have popped up on their feeds. However, there's a lot about Notes that just feels like a Twitter & Facebook feed. I know, I know... "The more one engages with Notes, the more one will be seen by potential subscribers." Yada, yada... But I don't want to play that game again. It's too much of a time suck.
And, like you, I also don't bother with "best of" or "greatest of all time" lists. I have no problems if people do, and I often read or at least skim them, but I have never done it and doubt I ever will. That said, I understand that some works of art, records, bands, musicians, dancers, painters, photographers, sculptors, writers, directors, and films may affect us differently, and we all have our favorites. That is the subjective part—how it speaks and impacts me may be different than how it speaks to you. Both are equally valid and to be celebrated.
Sorry for the long reply... your post got me thinking, which was the very point of it.
One of the unexpected outcomes of writing a newsletter about #1 hits has been the discovery of bands and songs that never hit #1 and never had a massive chart presence. It's been eye-opening and a really fun adventure.
I think charts and best-of lists give us a roadmap, but like every adventure, sometimes the best-kept secrets are off the beaten path, and I appreciate you underscoring the importance of that adventure!