I wrote this in 2001. Check out this post over at Future of Music that inspired me to repost my rant.

rant`, N; a vain and promiscuous expression of personal conjecture.

I hold a few presumptions going into this rant:

• 1) technology dictates process and encourages ritual,
  
• 2) imitation is the most sincere form of flattery,
  
• 3) ubiquity and affordability are interdependent,
  
• 4) nothing worth anything is ever free.

When I say "technology dictates process," I am trying to express how technology, literally the means by which something is done, is pivotal in how something gets done. In the world of music production, the means by which we record and mix, the technology, has vaulted to an absurd degree of capability in recent years. Accompanying the advancement is the continuing decline in price for technology; a trend nurtured by it's explosive growth. This has greatly effected how music is produced, and the rituals that go with music creativity in a digital age.

The process that's been affected, or processes I should say, are the ones of songwriting, and arguably, musicianship in general.

By presuming technology also encourages ritual, I am relating how ubiquitous adoption of "things", ala pagers or cellphones, (encouraged by common affordability) and their indivdual processes, leads inevitably to the development of social rules, or etiquette. From etiquette. is born ritual (I think of radio operators, who used codes to signal good reception "10-4", which later became the etiquette. of truckers on CB's to sign off a conversation. Emoticons- 'nuff said.)

Having spat out the above, I would submit that in times yonder, the process of songwriting and recording was much more ritual because the technology demanded a particular method. The time required by tape machines to rewind and resync, for instance, became the ritual of the producer rehearsing the performers before the next take.

With these new rituals came new requirements for success. Musical artists now had to learn the language and codes of the studio- "overdubs", "master", "post", "remix", "fly-it-in", to think of a few. As recording studios proliferated, being proficient in working in one became an essential ingredient of artistic success. The sheer amount of time consumed in recording an album became an experience unto itself. Bands would retreat into studios for months- years- at a time to produce a single record. The experience could be so intense, stories of in-studio friction and band-breakups became cliche.

The sometimes intense nature of the recording studio demanded a unique set of disciplines. The experience needed for a successful studio artist was typically gained on the concert circuits and oodles of "live" time in front of audiences. The trials of the musical life are often referred to as "paying your dues", as if the recording studio was attained rather than granted.

Going into the latter tenth of the 20th century, the following could be said: Artists who were "tried and true" dues-paid disciplinarians of the musical craft were the most present in the ears of listeners.

I'm not suggesting established artists are down-and-out just because some guy in his upstairs loft is cranking out techno beats with reckless abandon. Technology and songwriting demand a discipline to be effective. The amazing toys of the digital PC studio still require a working knowledge of what the software's supposed to be replacing. In other words, if someone doesn't understand the finer points of compression and EQ, handing them the worlds best EQ module can't help them.

Priced for Ubiquity.

In 1992, the price-tag to equip a mid-range recording facility could reach $100,000¹. By 2002, all of the tools required to produce a "CD quality" product can be obtained for a few thousand bucks. A few thousand. A music industry analyst figured the mean cost for producing a CD project was falling by almost $1.00 a day².

Today's top-end recording systems typically record at 96KHz, 24-bits (an obscure set of numbers that to the digitally sophistcated means "really, really, really good"). By contrast, the ubiquitous Compact Disc's digital payload is encoded at 44.1KHz, 16-bits (an obscure set of numbers that 20 years ago meant "really, really, really good" and twenty years before that meant "impossible"), literally less than half the audio fidelity. I challenge anyone to tell the difference while driving in a car.

Even the digital audio hardware stuffed into today's consumer-level products posses astounding aural fidelity. The measure, however, is relative, as most consumes don't enjoy dead-quiet, floating rooms with sound dampening when listening to music. More often than not, music is something for the background - an element of setting rather than a focus of attention. Have we reached an age where music is heard rather than listened-to?

A few interesting elements are intersecting in our digital age: Young, classically untrained composers are toying with tools traditionally relegated to high-end recording studios. Music itself is now piped into almost every human environment, and has become so ubiquitous as to be nearly invisible. And as with pagers and cellphones, music has become a life-accessory- priced and packaged accordingly.

At the end of the day, one truth emerges: humans are resoundingly musical beings. Websites like MP3.com and garageband.com are vibrant showcases of music by hundreds of thousands of individual artists and bands. While a small share of that number is represented by well known acts, the overwhelming majority are otherwise ordinary people who feel a need to express themselves musically. The ubiquity of what were once exclusive toolds of the musical production trade has lent enourmous momentum to the growing trend of self-producing musicians who are producing exceptional work in the confines of studio apartments and flats worldwide.