I’m sitting here in my living room, listening to Louis Prima, recorded in 1956, somehow ending up on my phone and being played through my phone’s network connection to my television set. I’m typing on a computer that’s not much larger than an A4 pad of paper and you’re reading this wherever, however, whenever you might have made the mistake of clicking on a link or firing up your feed-reader.
I can also use my phone to watch TV versions of comics that I read as a child. I could probably, but don’t, get digital copies of those same comics to view on whichever device I choose.
I can find and play just about any piece of music recorded (just about) just by asking my computer and I can record my own music and make it available to you in the same way.
Wow! Still haven’t got over this. Wow!
I went to see the latest Avengers flick this week. I’d been looking forward to it but felt a bit dissatisfied at the end, it was a bit like Christmas, so much anticipation and it was fun while it lasted, but then… then well back to the future.
Every now and then I’ve seen artists asked “What do you think you’d be like if you’d had access to YouTube when you were a kid?” I have no idea. It would have been so different. How could I tell? I expect I’d be very different. I mean, all of the above is still wowing me but my way of interacting with culture through my teens was to engage intensely with a (relatively) small pool of stuff and to do so over and over again. Listening to records until I knew every note and cassettes until they literally wore out. Reading comics and novels over and over, finding more each time. Getting hugely excited by a re-run of some beloved TV or film. Let alone organising all free time around the contents of the Radio & TV Times.
Which I guess is why, when given the choice, I’m listening (again) to some Italian-American guy from 1956.