blogging the boundaries

I wrote an early post in the life of this blog about trying to come to terms with my blogging identity (and my newly acquired professorial identity), still feeling the twinges of the transition from graduate student to professor. Things feel more settled now, but I’m still thinking. Today’s entry by Elouise on “virtual fraternization” prompts me to wonder if any students of mine (ir)regularly read my blog. Conversely, do any of them keep blogs that I don’t know about? If you’re out there, speak up. That’s what the comments are for. A student from last semester mentioned in an email that he’d read my blog, but he hasn’t commented. A couple of colleagues have mentioned coming across it, but no comments.

Well, Heidi has a blog, and she’s a student at UMKC, where I teach. We read each other’s blog, but we’ve never met. Jenny took my “Introduction to Humanities Computing” course at the University of Maryland (I wrote about it when I found her blog, and she commented on the entry). And Eric took my “Print, Literature, and Social Transformations in Eighteenth-Century England,” also at UMD. I was a grad student when I taught both classes, however, so is it more accurate to describe them as former students or as fellow students? Or both? Eric and I were also coworkers at MITH. The boundaries are not so clear, and they never have been.

A famous cartoon says that, online, nobody knows you’re a dog. But you and I both know that sooner or later you’re gonna start woofing and give yourself away.

Flying back from New York at Christmas, sitting in the airport bar, I see a UMKC student, one I don’t yet know too well, though she later takes my spring graduate seminar. What are the odds? I don’t go up and talk to her because … well, I don’t know. I feel like a dork; she’s got tattoos and sits with hip-looking friends. I’m also sort of hungover and not feeling my best.

In April, I blog about my intent to investigate the Buddhist temple in my neighborhood. Well, mid-summer I do, and who do I run into there but one of my students from spring semester, both of us now sitting in on a class on Buddhism. From professor-student to student-student again.

I discover that a student from my Milton class works at a local video store. I peruse his picks in the “staff recommendation” section. We talk over the counter about an exhibit at a local museum.

I attend the UMKC spring graduation ceremony, sitting with grad students because I’ve been asked to lead them where they’re supposed to go (as if I know). When the speaker asks the faculty to stand up, I look around blankly until one of the students nudges me and says, “That’s you.” Oh. Right. Two weeks later, or so, I attend the UMD graduation ceremony where my dissertation advisor has generous things to say about my work as his student. I seem to be a character in a novel that’s doing confusing things with time. Student? Professor?

But I don’t know if anyone here keeps their own blog. And people are often more candid in their blog than they are online. And people often don’t know their readers through venues other than their blog. And as CNWB acknowledges, many of us write blogs as an outlet to say things we otherwise feel we can’t say, even to our friends: “I wouldn’t want to subject them to my uninhibited ramblings, just as I wouldn’t bail them up in real life and crap on about the things I discuss here. The greatness of blogging is that if people want to listen to me, they’ll come, and I don’t have to worry about boring anyone.”

I haven’t explicitly promoted my blog to my non-blogging acquaintances. It came up at a party, and since then, some of them have found it, most haven’t looked (or if they have, they didn’t mention it). But if you google “george h williams”, guess what the number one hit is? Sooner or later, people are gonna notice, right? And some (many?) of those people are gonna be students. What then? I’m not too worried, frankly, but maybe I should be … ?

your gold record is calling…

This was a story in Britain this summer and I just forgot to blog about it. Now here it is stateside in the New York Times. A growing revenue stream for the music industry is the downloadable ringtone of popular songs for cellphones: sales of $16.6 million in 2002, and $50 million predicted for 2003. And while synthesized versions only put money in songwriters’ pockets, ringtones that are snippets from the actual recordings spread the wealth to musicians and singers, too. And a few songs have made more money as a ringtone than as an honest-to-goodness, played-on-the-radio, bought-in-the-music-store song.

And here’s the money shot:

The ring-tone business offers many attractions for the labels. Unlike CD’s and digital music files, ring tones can be bought anywhere at any time by someone whose cellphone has the software and hardware for music. The cost is added to the user’s monthly bill. In addition, most cellphone networks are controlled by the carriers that own them, allowing them to be monitored in a way that is impossible on the Web. Some people in the music industry see a not-so-distant future when teenagers will pay a few dollars to download full songs onto their phones or other wireless devices … Companies have sprouted up to act as liaisons between the music owners and the phone-service carriers.

The future of legal digital music just keeps looking bleaker and bleaker. Let’s break this down, shall we?

  • Monitoring and control of the cellphone network so that what you store and play on your device is always under surveillance? Nice. Where do I sign up?
  • Teenagers will pay a few dollars to download a full song? When a CD usually costs less than $15 for at least ten tracks and often more? I can’t imagine why any consumer would balk at such a scheme.
  • And yet another layer of administration has cropped up to act as liason between music labels and phone companies? So is any of the money we pay for music going to people who actually make music?

The music industry is now claiming a decline in music sales of 26% over the last four years, according to the article, although in PBS NewsHour q&a from June, Matt Oppenheim of the RIAA claims much more modest figures. The industry has never been good with numbers (or they’ve been very good, depending on how you look at it). Musicians have historically been given the short end of the stick when it comes to the profits arising from the sale of their music through the industry, and the ability to fudge numbers has had great benefits to the business.

The industry claims that this decline is “[b]ecause of factors like unauthorized music swapping,” in the language of the Times article, which is a weird construction. How many factors “like unauthorized music swapping” could there be? In other words, how many are the result of consumer behavior versus other factors? Consider that

  1. The whole economy has been in the toilet for much of the last four years. Why should the music industry expect to be exempt? Or maybe the problem of online file sharing is worse than we thought. (New car sales are down because of unauthorized music swapping. Unemployment is up because of unauthorized music swapping.)
  2. The music industry just doesn’t try that hard to produce good music.

To expand on point 2: I’m a fan of popular music (look, I may quote the Replacements to bolster my indie cred, but I also love songs like Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful” or Mary J. Blige’s “No More Drama” even as I recognize that they are emotionally manipulative and more than a little clichÈ), but even I have my limits. There are far too many insipid songs (rock, hip hop, r&b, and especially the god-awful crap that passes for country music on commercial radio) that the music industry spends literally millions of dollars producing and promoting, way more money than they spend paying people who actually write the music and perform it. That’s why they have a problem: their music just isn’t very good. And I think they know it, or else they wouldn’t spend so much money to cram it down our throats.

The solution? Is it to get back to basics, to try to encourage creative people to make interesting and innovative music, to take advantage of new technologies to streamline the production and distribution process so that it’s less expensive, thus putting more money into the pockets of the people who deserve it, to create a fair and equitable process by which artists are remunerated for their work?

Yeah, we could try that but…. oooooh, cell phones!

today’s soundtrack


Everybody at your party
They don’t look depressed
And everybody’s dressin’ funny
Color me impressed

Replacements

what you reveal about yourself

As Elouise has just posted while I write this entry, it seems that what started as relatively innocent thoughts on blogs by Elouize and Liz (as well as a comment by Chuck in Elouise’s blog) have led to some rather heatedly sarcastic comments by others in the blogosphere. I believe this all started, believe it or not, more than two weeks ago with some thoughts by Elouise that led into a discussion about blogging and identity that pinged around the Word Herders and others for awhile through what I’ve been calling the “identity thread” (most recently here). The most recent responses have been puzzling.

I think you reveal a great deal about yourself in the way that you respond to what other people have to say. You might think you’re really getting in a good zinger when in reality others are watching you quizzically, wondering what the hell happened in your past to cause you to carry around such bitterness. And if you ignore all of the detailed and nuanced posts that have taken place over the last 18 days in order to pounce on the one that allows you to get your digs in, well, don’t be surprised if people don’t take you seriously.

The accusation (paraphrased): You’re elitist because you don’t want what you have to say on this subject to be linked to who you are. The accuser: a person who posts under a pseudonym.

Mr. Kettle? There’s a Mr. Pot on the phone for you.

Hmmm. Does that sound bitter on my part? What does that reveal about me?

blue oyster cult’s moment of brilliance

For a while in my youth I was a huge fan of the band Blue ÷yster Cult. Tonight, driving home from working late on an article that will go in the mail tomorrow, I heard their mid-’70s hit “Don’t Fear the Reaper,” and I thought to myself, “Where did this song come from?” I mean, it’s a really good song, both lyrically and musically, far and away better than anything else the band ever recorded, although one might argue that some of the material on the album Fire of Unknown Origin comes close provided one had a taste for that sort of thing. I just learned from the above Allmusic links above that Patti Smith collaborated with them on some of their music. Wow.

Yes, basically this is cheese rock, but … those vague lyrics at once both menacing and seductive. It sounds like a love song but the persona of one of the singers (lyrics on the left) is clearly Death, with the other singer (lyrics on the right) offering encouragment to the would-be lover:

Come on baby… Don’t fear the Reaper
Baby take my hand… Don’t fear the Reaper
We’ll be able to fly… Don’t fear the Reaper
Baby I’m your man…

Then there’s a third persona, a narrator, whom we see in this last verse:

Come on baby… And she had no fear
And she ran to him… Then they started to fly
They looked backward and said goodbye
She had become like they are
She had taken his hand
She had become like they are

Good lord, but that’s brilliantly creepy!