THE DEFINITIVE HISTORY OF THE MIX TAPE, ALBEIT, A NOT SO DEFINITIVE HISTORY OF THE MIX TAPE.
Thankfully, we have Hallmark for the emotionally uneloquent. There are millions upon millions of people who just can't find the right thing to say, so they spend $1.75 saying it for them. It's an incredible business (just ask the Stone family), one that never has a bad season. There is always a holiday, there is always a birthday and there is always, always, always an occasion for me to screw up and a need to apologize thereafter.
But while sometimes you may care to send the very best, other times, you want to send the bestest. And a mix is like that. Because a mix is impressionable and eternal. Moreover, a mix has a practical use other than just sitting on your fireplace and winding up eventually in a drawer because you feel too guilty about throwing it out. [If you remember, ages ago, there was a musical card fad which went nowhere fast. Because it attempted to combine both useless and annoying and God knows, we already have a great deal of that in our lives]
The first mix that I made for someone else was for a girl (obviously). Not just any girl, though. She was my first serious girlfriend. While I had had a few in school, I never had one that was so "meaningful." Over the span of two years, this girl and I dated off and on and I created about 12+ mixes for her. On the rare occasion, I made her copy them for me, so to this day, I still have some of them. Needless to say, in retrospect they are embarrassingly bad. Not like retro-cool embarrassingly bad but just senseless. Like a Long Island teenager from the late 80's had gotten her hands on Casey Kasem's exclusive album collection and put a cheese platter on cassette.
A random sampling of Mix #2:
Out There Somewhere - the Moody Blues
I'll Get By - Eddie Money
Unforgiven - Metallica
Silent Lucidity - Queensryche
The One - Elton John
Lift Me Up - Yes
Glory of Love - Peter Cetera
Round Here - Counting Crows
Painfully, it goes on for at least 14 more songs. I am trying to spare you here by stopping.
While some of those songs, in their individuality are acceptable or even great, together, this was a hodge-podge of mush. And at the time, I may have wanted to relay a mushy sentiment but now, in retrospect, I think I was a massive dork. But that's fine. She wanted a massive dork and I was, as it appears, more than happy to comply.
After that relationship, I began listening to "better" music ("better" is in quotes because while it is better for me, it may be not better for you). I used that quarter you gave me and finally bought a clue. I attended small venue shows, checked out small obscure bands--sometimes, even by myself-- and consumed a great deal of new sounds. My ears were disoriented. They asked me why they no longer heard from Peter Cetera.
I had a close friend, Sarah, who was spending her year studying abroad and she asked me to make her a mix. I sent her one (all you have to do is ask) and she loved it. Well, that's because it was good. I put thought into it, I sat down and simmered over what this girl would like to hear and I put it together in a High-Fidelity format (start strong, keep your pace, third song-slow down a bit, then pick up again, etc). I didn't just rely on walking up and down the aisle of a card shop looking for amusing-yet-touching banter.
Eventually, I began making Sarah almost monthly mixes. I was her Music Ed. instructor and she was climbing the proverbial gym rope.
Some time later, I met a friend of hers who attended this school with my Sarah. This new acquaintance had revealed to me that the girls of the over-seas school had taken all the mix tapes and selected certain songs from them and then, made that into a master mix. They called it "Arye's Greatest Hits." So I asked her, so you mean to tell me there are random girls walking around with copies of my mix?
And she said, yes.
Ahhh, the life of a rock star.
What fascinates me about making a mix, as mentioned before, is eternity of it. Songs that I or someone else introduce you to, are forever associated with the introducer. Even though I may not keep in touch with the mix-receiver, they will think of me every time they pull out the dusty cassette (now a CD-R) from their closet. They'll put it on and think, hmph, whatever happened to Arye? That is more potent than any photo or any memory. In fact, this girl--the friend of Sarah's--didn't even know me but she knew my music. She may have attended concerts of bands that she found out about merely because I made her friend a mix. She might have gone onto sending someone else a mix with the bands I introduced her to. The path of her life was forever changed by one "silly" mix tape. Dramatic? Sure. Accurate? Yes.
The truth is, it's selfish. I love making mixes for people. In fact, just this week I made two. One for a co-worker and one for myself. The co-worker's mix was all up-beat summery songs (all mixes have themes. My greatest one yet: The Autobiography Mix which told the story of my life through music). Over the years, I've made hundreds. Naomi has three (or four). I made one for Ilana, two for Alisa, seven for Christy, one for Sarah...I even made one for Jonathan Safran Foer (a long story). The thrill of introducing someone to a band or to new music is addictive. It's also one of the reasons I love writing about music.
And here is my proposition: Because you're here and because we love one another, I am making you an offer. Email me the sort of music you're into, the type of sound you enjoy. Or a theme like "Sunday morning coffee mix" or "Saturday night drinking 40's mix"...and I will make one for you. As soon as I can (which may be a week or two depending on requests (HA!) and my busy social life (double HA!).
Yes, I will put a choice collection of finely selected songs on a tape/CD for you. And if I'm not lazy maybe I'll even design the cover. Hey, I'm good like that.
Thankfully, we have Hallmark for the emotionally uneloquent. There are millions upon millions of people who just can't find the right thing to say, so they spend $1.75 saying it for them. It's an incredible business (just ask the Stone family), one that never has a bad season. There is always a holiday, there is always a birthday and there is always, always, always an occasion for me to screw up and a need to apologize thereafter.
But while sometimes you may care to send the very best, other times, you want to send the bestest. And a mix is like that. Because a mix is impressionable and eternal. Moreover, a mix has a practical use other than just sitting on your fireplace and winding up eventually in a drawer because you feel too guilty about throwing it out. [If you remember, ages ago, there was a musical card fad which went nowhere fast. Because it attempted to combine both useless and annoying and God knows, we already have a great deal of that in our lives]
The first mix that I made for someone else was for a girl (obviously). Not just any girl, though. She was my first serious girlfriend. While I had had a few in school, I never had one that was so "meaningful." Over the span of two years, this girl and I dated off and on and I created about 12+ mixes for her. On the rare occasion, I made her copy them for me, so to this day, I still have some of them. Needless to say, in retrospect they are embarrassingly bad. Not like retro-cool embarrassingly bad but just senseless. Like a Long Island teenager from the late 80's had gotten her hands on Casey Kasem's exclusive album collection and put a cheese platter on cassette.
A random sampling of Mix #2:
Out There Somewhere - the Moody Blues
I'll Get By - Eddie Money
Unforgiven - Metallica
Silent Lucidity - Queensryche
The One - Elton John
Lift Me Up - Yes
Glory of Love - Peter Cetera
Round Here - Counting Crows
Painfully, it goes on for at least 14 more songs. I am trying to spare you here by stopping.
While some of those songs, in their individuality are acceptable or even great, together, this was a hodge-podge of mush. And at the time, I may have wanted to relay a mushy sentiment but now, in retrospect, I think I was a massive dork. But that's fine. She wanted a massive dork and I was, as it appears, more than happy to comply.
After that relationship, I began listening to "better" music ("better" is in quotes because while it is better for me, it may be not better for you). I used that quarter you gave me and finally bought a clue. I attended small venue shows, checked out small obscure bands--sometimes, even by myself-- and consumed a great deal of new sounds. My ears were disoriented. They asked me why they no longer heard from Peter Cetera.
I had a close friend, Sarah, who was spending her year studying abroad and she asked me to make her a mix. I sent her one (all you have to do is ask) and she loved it. Well, that's because it was good. I put thought into it, I sat down and simmered over what this girl would like to hear and I put it together in a High-Fidelity format (start strong, keep your pace, third song-slow down a bit, then pick up again, etc). I didn't just rely on walking up and down the aisle of a card shop looking for amusing-yet-touching banter.
Eventually, I began making Sarah almost monthly mixes. I was her Music Ed. instructor and she was climbing the proverbial gym rope.
Some time later, I met a friend of hers who attended this school with my Sarah. This new acquaintance had revealed to me that the girls of the over-seas school had taken all the mix tapes and selected certain songs from them and then, made that into a master mix. They called it "Arye's Greatest Hits." So I asked her, so you mean to tell me there are random girls walking around with copies of my mix?
And she said, yes.
Ahhh, the life of a rock star.
What fascinates me about making a mix, as mentioned before, is eternity of it. Songs that I or someone else introduce you to, are forever associated with the introducer. Even though I may not keep in touch with the mix-receiver, they will think of me every time they pull out the dusty cassette (now a CD-R) from their closet. They'll put it on and think, hmph, whatever happened to Arye? That is more potent than any photo or any memory. In fact, this girl--the friend of Sarah's--didn't even know me but she knew my music. She may have attended concerts of bands that she found out about merely because I made her friend a mix. She might have gone onto sending someone else a mix with the bands I introduced her to. The path of her life was forever changed by one "silly" mix tape. Dramatic? Sure. Accurate? Yes.
The truth is, it's selfish. I love making mixes for people. In fact, just this week I made two. One for a co-worker and one for myself. The co-worker's mix was all up-beat summery songs (all mixes have themes. My greatest one yet: The Autobiography Mix which told the story of my life through music). Over the years, I've made hundreds. Naomi has three (or four). I made one for Ilana, two for Alisa, seven for Christy, one for Sarah...I even made one for Jonathan Safran Foer (a long story). The thrill of introducing someone to a band or to new music is addictive. It's also one of the reasons I love writing about music.
And here is my proposition: Because you're here and because we love one another, I am making you an offer. Email me the sort of music you're into, the type of sound you enjoy. Or a theme like "Sunday morning coffee mix" or "Saturday night drinking 40's mix"...and I will make one for you. As soon as I can (which may be a week or two depending on requests (HA!) and my busy social life (double HA!).
Yes, I will put a choice collection of finely selected songs on a tape/CD for you. And if I'm not lazy maybe I'll even design the cover. Hey, I'm good like that.
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