Welcome to Learned, a short, weekly look at language, education, and everything else under the sun. I’m Joel, linguist and professional slacker. This week, we're going pro.
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Let's start with this:
I've been reading Matt Alt's Pure Invention: How Japan's Pop Culture Conquered the World this week and in a chapter on the history and invention of karaoke, Alt put into words something that I had been thinking about for a long time without realizing it:
[The karaoke machine] was the first device...that let rand amateur performers feel like total pros; those simple assists of returning and echo effects were the forerunners of all the high-tech helping hands we take for granted in our modern lives.
Alt goes on to list camera-app filters along with video game rhythm guides and physics engines that let even the clumsiest and least-rhythmic of us perform well. But the real kicker is in the next line:
Karaoke is the original user-generated content, the first network of populist remixers unfettered by gatekeepers.
In other words, karaoke machines are the first example of technology allowing us to create as we wish without having to jump through entertainment industry hoops. With a karake machine, you can sing your heart out without having to have a manager, a record contract, or a backing band. And to the greater point, increasingly, as the technology matures, it helps us overcome a lack of natural talent.
But what I think is most telling about this, is that if you carry the karaoke example forward, we see the technology evolving to the point where even the pros are using it to bypass the very same hoops they had already had to jump through. We've seen this on a creative level where even very well-established artists are avoiding record labels in favor of making and releasing music from home studios; we've seen this on a financial level by established creators turning to Kickstarter and Patreon to fund new artistic endeavors rather than court labels and movie studios with their attendant rules and constraints.
In general, I feel like this is a 'good thing.' And, like with so many things, I feel completely caught in the crossfires of change. Back in college, I was among the last cohort at my university to study at-the-time necessary media editing techniques like cutting and splicing tape, burning and dodging photos, and creating layouts on drafting boards. I have not needed any of those skills since the day I graduated as, by the time I got into jobs where I would need them, the tools that required them had all been replaced by digital versions.
And so, to create this same newsletter that you're reading now, back in 1995, I would have had to type it, lay it out on a drafting board, submit it to a printer, and, crucially, hope I could find a media corporation that would be willing to distribute it for me. These days, I use my phone and an email account.
But, the broader point that I want to make is that all these technologies, starting with the karaoke machine, have not only served to eliminate the line between amateur and professional, they have begun to limit creativity and individual effort by making the act of creation too easy.
One of the modern writing tools I have at my disposal is a service called Grammarly. You may be familiar with it - the software reads your writing as you go, much like spellcheck, and offers suggestions and corrections. Which bothers me. See, I don't mind when the software offers a grammar correction like using "me" instead of "I," or making sure I'm using the right "there." However, I dislike when the software gives me suggestions on how to make my sentence stronger. Or how to make my paragraph more dynamic. And, to be clear, I don't dislike these suggestions because they're bad suggestions, I dislike them because if I followed them, my writing would no longer sound like my writing. It would sound cookie-cutter and formulaic and just like everyone else's.
Studies have found that as one musical genre or another gains popularity, it becomes simpler and more formulaic until it becomes difficult to distinguish one song from another. And while in previous generations, that was in large part due to record labels wanting to maximize returns by capitalizing on what was popular rather than take risks on new sounds and styles, in the modern era it can be laid at the feet of the technologies that make it so easy to record an album in your bedroom. When everyone is using the same tools, and, more importantly, the same tutorials, everything is going to sound the same.
I suppose, in the end, the dividing line between amateur and pro will end up being that weird combination of luck, persistence, and raw talent that it's always been, it's just that the nature of that luck, persistence, and raw talent might have changed. It's no longer hoping that the talent scout finds you in the bar, it's hoping that your video goes viral on YouTube. It's writing and writing and writing until you find an audience. It's pitting your talent against new tools until you've mastered them completely.
Maybe nothing has changed after all.
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That's all for this week. Stay safe, stay curious. Learn something.
Joel