Access Versus Experience

Grains of Experience

A very smart business leader said something in a meeting that I was privileged to attend a few months ago, and it stuck with me. His theory is that there is a paradigm shift going on in our world, away from possessions, and towards access. Streaming services for media, instead of cultivated libraries. Transportation companies (well, OK, ride share companies) that don't own cars. Cloud computing instead of concrete servers, selling platforms without inventory, and so on.

Everything through your smartphone that could realistically go through your smartphone, because that device has such an emotional resonance and always-on connection. Information and data that travel with you from place to place and provider to provider, because that's the way to exceptional customer service. Everyone with their own concierge, really. It made a lot of sense to me then, and still does now... but there's a hole in the theory that you can drive a truck through, and part of that is from what I did just before starting to write this column.

Here's what I did.

I got up from where I normally write and went to the back of the room, to a present that my wife got for me for Christmas. It's a possession; even more so, it's a machine. I opened the top of the device, and loaded it with a clearly antiquated and inconvenient technology, taking special care not to damage it, because it can be very easily damaged. Making sure not to do anything else at the time, because I haven't had this tech for so long as to make this second nature, I then placed the device into operation and adjusted to taste.

Every 20 minutes or so, I need to tend to the machine. I can't pause it, or send its output anywhere else. If I let it go untended, the machine will complete its intended task and keep going without reset, and potentially become damaged.

There are no software upgrades for this. It is, simply, a set and finite flaw.

We'll move past the pointless suspense here: it's a turntable. Actually, it's a retro combo turntable, which also plays CDs, cassettes, radio and even your Bluetooth-enabled device, because why not, really. Needless to say, the vast majority of the use has been the turntable.

More surprising is how young the market for the product is. According to MusicWatch, 54% of vinyl customers are 35 and under, and while it's clearly a niche product for the music industry, it's one where the revenue model still makes sense.

I won't get into the sound quality argument, because I can talk to both sides of it, knowing the science as well as the marketing. At a certain point, human discernment is just not generally capable of telling a difference between analog and digital files, mostly at higher sampling rates. I also don't have the best set of ears on the plane, which is actually a help, in that I'm not going to splurge for the over the top sound system and additional speakers that true audiophiles go for.

However, the sound quality argument is besides the point for me. The simple act of tending to the record, avoiding skips and rapid access to favorite tracks, and the sight of that mesmerizing spin -- all of that makes for a potent cocktail of psychoacoustics, or the listening equivalent of a placebo. It sounds better because it feels better, and I'm racking up moments in my growing collection where I just get chills from the record that I wasn't getting from other formats. For me, at least, and for now.

Another consequence of the medium is that I am suddenly willing to experiment on other formats to see if vinyl makes it better. The format in question? Jazz, which as a writer, has never attached very well to me. John Coltrane and Miles Davis are starting to work their magic, though. My guests, in that the turntable made its debut for my home poker game last weekend, were also far more tolerant about what they heard than usual.

Here's another point for analog over digital: there's an exceptional vinyl store that isn't too far from me, which I've started combing for used finds to high success. Rummaging through stacks in this crowded emporium is less convenient than simply shopping online. Amazon carries vinyl, because of course they do. But the sifting and thrill of a strike (Richard Thompson! And more than a few titles!) isn't just a cost savings over shipping. It's the primal aspect of the hunt, the rapid calculation of what I have to have versus what I can live without, and the math involved in keeping my consumerism responsible. All in real time, because the stores isn't open 24/7, and I can't just spend all day here.

Access is important. It scales, it's got exceptional advantages, and even the fussiest mind will take it ninety nine times out of a hundred. Even in music, digital can and should dominate: many of the newer vinyl albums come with a free digital download, and no one's giving up solid state for mobile use. If you want your music with you at the gym or the car, or in settings where you can't keep tending to it, you aren't going back to the old ways.

But access isn't everything, because we aren't entirely (or even very) logical creatures. We close doors and open windows.

And in that window lies opportunity, for any marketing and ad pro wise enough to use it.

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