In praise of the physical format

This blog post is a response to an innocent question from Connor a while back that got me thinking. Here's the Q:

Now, a bit of an odd question: Why do you still buy CDs? Do you not have any music streaming services?

And here are some reasons.

Tangible items are nice to have. I've mentioned this before when comparing cardboard baseball cards with non-fungible tokens (NFTs), and I was reminded of it recently when I bought a new box-set CD retrospective released by 90s shoegazer band Thousand Yard Stare.

The set contains four CDs and a book, all housed in a sturdy slipcase. It's a thing of beauty.

(I was one of the first people to buy it and got a free bonus 7" single as well!)

(Some) physical format items retain their value as well. We recently cashed in some old console games, which have become a bit collectible. If you just download a game, then it's not as easy to sell on. 

(I also find it frustrating when I can't just turn on a console and play a game any more. I found the PlayStation particularly bad for this. There were so many administrative steps before I could start playing, I actually gave up.  The same dynamic happens with music. I don't want to have to log in to anything to play music.)

Generally, I don't like the idea of streaming services deciding what I can access. If you rely on Disney Plus for watching Star Wars you can't see the original versions of Star Wars before they got monkeyed around with (and, in the case of Return of the Jedi, ruined!). But while you can't watch them, I can, because I still have the DVD box set released 20 years ago.

Similarly, Disney insisted on several cuts to Bluey episodes and for a long time didn't have the episode 'Dad Baby' available. This reflects the strong small-c conservative, easily offended, quick to complain American market. Which is why you can't see a male cartoon dog pretending to be pregnant or ponies at a fete do a poo like ponies do. (Seriously.)

Why should I surrender control over what I can watch to a corporation? I'm aware that my online activity is feeding the algorithm because the machines are listening. But I want to retain control over my playlist as much as possible. 

And that's before we get to the one line modern horror story: What happens if the wi-fi goes down? 

(Well, I'd have something still to watch.)

Even if the wi-fi stays on, streaming services don't hold content forever and they can drop stuff without warning. In effect, while you aren't limited to the content you own, you are limited by the content they own. We end up paying for another person's library and they decide what's in it.

As an example, this year Cathy and I have started watching the show Manifest. The problem was Netflix only had the first, second and fourth seasons available. The third season was on another streaming service. What to do? We opted to buy the series on DVD. (And then, after we bought the physical format that Netflix reached a deal with the other streamer. However, at this rate, we will have finished the fourth and final series before season 3 arrives on Netflix.)

I realise this sounds like a regressive rant by an irritable Gen X old man who is reluctant to surrender control and autonomy. But I don't care. I'm going to keep buying CDs and other physical format items and, in the long run, I think I'll be proven wise to do so. There's safety in being a late adopter. 

Lastly, I'm Generation X. I remember the 20th century. I lived a pre-Internet life. Nostalgia is the weapon pointed at me most often. Having the physical artefact is a reminder of back when I was more innocent and less cynical. And is that a bad thing?

Another relic of the analog age

While having a bit of a clear out, Cathy found this: the last print edition of the Yellow Pages ever delivered to us. I took a photo before we tossed it in recycling.

I was struck how the front cover shows the architect of the Yellow Pages' downfall, a smartphone. 

Time was, every business had to have a listing in Yellow Pages. It was the first piece of advice given on enterprise courses to people seeking advice on setting up a business. We had one when we ran our own business, although nobody ever called us because they saw us there. 

Businesses that relied on their Yellow Pages listing used all kinds of daft ways to be first in the directory - calling themselves AAAAAAAA111 Plumbing or so on. More successful businesses paid for box ads or half page ads or even full page ads. Spots on the cover cost thousands. 

It was worth it too, because everyone had a Yellow Pages and almost everyone would use it to find a tradesman or check where their nearest branch of a given shop was. Yes, there were competitors, like the Thomson Directory, but Yellow Pages dominated the market, an ultimate authoritative information source and able to name its price to advertisers as a gatekeeper of information.

And then smartphones came along and killed that business model. They tried to pivot online as Yell but as search engines got better there wasn't any need for a directory website any more. 

In their heyday, a Yellow Pages directory would have hundreds of pages. The final edition was a stripped down bare bones affair compared to the fat and satisfied versions in its pomp; the advertisers surely placing their entries out of habit rather than any marketing strategy. 

Like other businesses that cornered their now-vanished markets, no-one misses Yellow Pages. It had a good run but the world changed far too rapidly for it to keep up. It's a warning to any hegemony - your reckoning time may come. Will you be ready?

Analog collector in an increasingly digital collecting world

Earlier this year, Topps, the company that currently has the sole license to produce official Major League Baseball cards, launched NFT trading cards. These are "virtual" uncopyable images that can be transferred a bit like cryptocurrency. There's all sorts of lingo that goes along with this like "blockchain" and so on. Digi wonks go nuts for this sort of thing.

This has made me realise that I am an analog boy at heart because I have zero interest in this. To me, it has as much appeal as collecting "baseball cards" by right-clicking save on a Google image search.

Topps apparently get 20% of any sell on fees so every time this gets sold on they get a cut. I can see the appeal although people sell them on eBay to circumvent the official system and avoid the fees. A card can change hands multiple times during its lifetime. The idea that every time it's sold on the manufacturer get a percent cut is a corporate executive's dream.

On the same day that Topps launched their digital cards, a packet of real baseball cards arrived in the post. I'd bought them off eBay and really enjoyed looking through them. I appreciate the tactile feel of cards 'in hand', feeling the different kinds of cardboard, the different finishes, spotting blemishes and imperfections.

I even don't mind cards that have been "loved" and have slightly worn edges and corners. Those cards have a history to them. They have character. I try to take good care of my cards, but I have added a bit of "character" to some of them, myself. 

The digital replacement movement is pernicious. This month I have been going to a lot of football matches (going while I can - who knows if another lockdown is coming!) and on three occasions the clubs have offered a virtual programme instead of a printed one. It's not the same thing. 

A printed programme is a tangible souvenir of an event - a record that something happened that acts a reminder when you see it. A PDF on a hard drive is a poor, ersatz alternative. You can't idly flick through it while waiting for the kettle to boil. 

(I was very pleased when I watched a game at Pontypridd Town this week to discover the club have reverted from virtual to physical programmes!)

I feel okay about realising I'm an analog collector. That's just me being me. Although it does mean I need to find room for all the stuff I acquire!