Way before podcasting, we had… mix tapes.
Mixing tapes was an art, a difficult one that called for patience and dedication. It could either turn into the ultimate proof of love or an annoying gift from someone who had to control everything, even the music you listened to. I’ve received mix tapes from secret admirers where each song was supposed to mean something about « what could be ». Lyrics from painful 80s songs were meant to be secret messages and my task was to decode them. I’ve also exchanged tapes as gifts with boyfriends, tapes that were meant as a tribute to our relationship.
Mix CDs never seemed to have the same kind of emotional resonance. And now people just send an MP3 over e-mail… Mixing a tape was a linear task, one that had to be executed properly on the first take or the whole thing had to be recorded all over again. It took « very special » people to enjoy mixing tapes.
« True, mix tape-making is essentially narcissistic – the wish to bring pleasure is sincere, but the enterprise is mostly a celebration of the mixer’s good taste. But it’s narcissistic like all artistic creation, and it’s one of the few instances when you can make a musical product without actually having to go through the trouble of learning an instrument. » (From Newsday)
I’ve had a couple of boyfriends who were BIG tape mixers. I still haven’t managed to throw away some of the tapes they made for me, even though I don’t listen to cassettes anymore. There’s the tape that M. made for me with all my favorite, very hard to find songs that described the evolution of our relationship, from love to friendship. There’s the cassette that F. made for me before he left to work in Europe. He had hid it behind a row of books so that I would only find it after following his instructions on Valentine’s Day. He expressed more love with that tape than he ever did with words and I was quite touched – even though he put cheesy little heart-shaped stickers all over the cassette.
I’m an anti-packrat, but I feel like a complete traitor whenever I think about getting rid of these tapes. They’re like trophies to these guys’ sweet madness and dedication. How could I get rid of the last trace of such a lost art?
There’s a new book out on the subject: Mix Tape : The Art of Cassette Culture. I’m considering buying it for a couple of my exes, especially for the one who’s still mixing tapes after all these years. ;-)
« Artist and musician Thurston Moore looks back at the plastic gadget that first let us make our own compilations. Over eighty home tapers, including artists, musicians, actors, writers, directors, comediennes, talk show hosts, and, of course, record store employees were invited to tell the stories behind their mixes. From the Romantic Tape, to the Break-up Tape, the Road Trip Tape, to the « Indoctrination » Tape-the art and text that emerged was of the mix cassette as a new way of re-sequencing music to make sense of our most stubbornly inexpressible feelings-a way of explaining ourselves to someone else, or to ourselves. »
Found via Bookslut.
