I sit in front of the computer, fingers frozen, throat tightening, stomach tensed. I stare at the screen, the cursor flashing: it demands words from me, but I haven’t got anything to give.
This is the moment at which the modern world’s promise of endless choice, of bountiful entertainment on tap, turns into an anguished moment of eternal indecision. I am using, or attempting to use, Spotify – the streaming music service that promises almost any album you care to think of, piped into your ears on demand, for free. It sounds too good to be legal, but in fact it’s all above board. Spotify pays the record labels each time one of their tracks is played, and in turn advertisers pay Spotify for the right to slip short messages into gaps in the music, or to flash ads up onto the screen. There are also ad-free premium options in return for a monthly subscription.
When I first heard about Spotify, perhaps 18 months ago, I expected it to be chart heavy and filled with froth. It was a nice idea – in many ways an amazing idea: why fill up your shelves or your hard disc with music when you can stream it whenever you want it? But really, I just didn’t believe it would contain much that would synchronise with my crazy passions. But what I found there was a treasure trove of the relatively obscure, more stuff than I could listen to in a lifetime: Can, The Fall, King Tubby, The Bug; Warp Records, Soul Jazz, Ninja Tune; Cocteau Twins, Wah! Heat, John Coltrane…
If Spotify only catered to the mainstream, I’m sure it would find an audience of sorts; of casual music listeners who just can’t be bothered to pay for their music. However, it’s unlikely that this audience alone would have served it well in the long term, and Spotify has so far succeeded in targeting the ever-fragmenting music market niches – the people with interesting tastes. Because while these people are more difficult to please – they demand more from their music, and they know when they’re being short-changed – they are also the people who are hungry for new sounds, and their appetites will never be sated: if they can use Spotify to discover endless new connections, to deliver old favourites and exciting fresh sounds – more than they could ever have afforded before, even in the instantly accessible world of downloads – then they will be back day after day after day. It is these more serious music fans who will pass on the Spotify message like – yes – a virus, until everyone they know is infected.
The Spotify business model – certainly for the free service – has an uncertain future; there is no guarantee yet that the artists and labels will receive the revenue they think they deserve. And there are still many disappointments, moments when you search for a record you’d love to hear and it just isn’t there. But the Spotify catalogue is growing constantly, and now that you can hook it up to Facebook too, it means you can easily swap playlists with mates – or simply laugh at the shoddy music they like. “Ha ha – he was listening to Toploader!”
But still, none of this helps at this moment, as I sit in front of my freshly fired-up Spotify window, hands dangling inertly over the keyboard. Because this, I’m afraid, is The Spotify Effect – a paralysis caused by boundless possibility, a simple inability to choose.
When there’s a whole world to listen to, how can you possibly decide?
So I close my Spotify down, and I simply get on with some work.
In silence.
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