For the talk of the future of generating art, let’s not forget the task of remembering the art we’ve already made. Behold: more than 10,000 cassette recorded concerts, from as far back as 1984, recorded in community centers, church basements, taverns, all-ages clubs, and hundreds of other unsung “venue” owners who let then (and often always) unknown bands play shows for a a couple dozen attendees, all in the hopes that door money and beverages might keep the owner out of the red on a random weeknight while.
I have a couple bootlegs from concerts I attended, but it never occurred to me that I might get to listen to a 1995 Blonde Redhead show at The Empty Bottle or The Blow Pops playing 1991 show at a Milwaukee spot I’ve never heard of. These shows have always had an ephemeral quality to them, existing far more in the stories of those who claimed to be there that night than the actual direct artistic footprint.
But maybe not. Maybe the internet can and does, in fact, remember. Because while there is a lot to be absorbed from the finished product, but there is often so much more learn from the imperfect and unpolished early stages. A band before they slowed down or ventured beyond their first 3 chords, a writer still stuck in the first person, a disseratation chapter still haunted by the writing of the insecure graduate student we all were. The awkard phases when an artist (or artists) are still finding their voice. Perhaps, more than ever, we need to remember the importance of not skipping over the embarassing, exhausting, and, yes, often futile work at the beginning and middle. There are more shortcuts than ever to making a thing, but no shortcut to becoming the version of yourself that can make the thing that only you can make.
Economist Writing Every Day 