Internet Icons Are Merely Universal Traffic Signage
An acquaintance of mine asked a really great question on Twitter last week about why we use the “favorite” feature on Twitter—he uses it more as a bookmark and I explained that, for me, it’s a “a non-verbal way of saying, ‘I’m in like with you,’ insofar as you agree with/like said thought.” Amidst this conversation was the somewhat late hullabaloo over Gmail’s redesign (I say late because the redesign leaked in October and has been available for usage for some time now) and its utilization of symbols over text in the new interface. While I don’t think the Gmail redesign deserves discourse, the trend toward universal virtual “signage” is worth a moment or five.
Over the last couple of years, we’ve seen a surge of icons/emoticons/shorthand takeover text conversations—even online. Suddenly, we have the usual code emoticons, hashtags, the reblog/replay icon, stars (which serve to favorite, bookmark, and flag for later usage), and the ubiquitous heart. They all mean different things to those who use them and yet they all somehow communicate the same thing, “I’m in like with you.”
I use the starring feature in Google reader a lot, usually as a flag to come back to X-post because 1) I just really dug the post or 2) I want to reference something of it in a blog post of my own (or other project.) I also use the star as a “favoriting” tool in Twitter, but not necessarily just to denote that I like the tweet…it serves to say that I connected with what was shared, that I connected with the tweeter, or to denote that I like the anecdote, but it’s not necessarily something I’d share with my followers. Other platforms offer other options…Tumblr’s heart (i.e. like) “button” is a tricky one for the fact that it doesn’t always equate to finding something positive in what’s being said (much like Facebook’s “liking” feature.) Even tagging can have a social aspect to it beyond optimized search—it can be part of an inside joke between friends or a collection of thoughts tied to a general consensus.
Like traffic signage, these icons provide guidance along the virtual roads of the internet age. Google’s transition to icons over text is merely a contribution to and acknowledgement of the non-verbal line of universal communication that comes with signage—no matter how one is using said signage.
While starring or “hearting” a blog post or won’t do the justice that a written comment will, but both signal the same message: we share a common line of connection and understanding.
The Dystopian Remix Age: Post-Postmodernism?
Last year, I interviewed Max Tannone—the DJ responsible for layering Radiohead with Jay-Z several years ago—about his musical projects and how he came to start “mashing” sounds. The most telling part of the interview was Tannone’s remark that “mash up” was derogatory and that “remix” was a better way to describe what he was doing—even if the stratification was a messy one. Why was this so important?
Remixing has evolved into a process applicable well beyond the borders of music and is propelling the current cultural movements away from postmodernism toward something else. Remix is essentially a tweaked redux to the point where the new entity is simultaneously the sum of all of its parts and yet separate from them—defined and then re-defined. The debate over the legality of remix (and perhaps social acceptability of such) is seen in the patent law debates, instigation of the Creative Commons license, APIs, and the globalization of “sharing,” in general. Who owns what? Can ideas and thoughts be owned? (Take a look a user/privacy policies at Facebook or Google and tell me what you think.) Patent law, copyright, and intellectual property rights are the direct result of postmodern thought: everything is individual.
In this way, the notion that nothing is universal (or community-owned perhaps) and everything is subjective/individual is the acknowledgement of postmodernism. However, in doing so, our acknowledgement of that notion is universal and therefore defeats a “definitive” of postmodernism. It’s also invited a little modernism back into the art world, insofar as people are “remixing” for the sake of novelty. While something new is created, what is new is fashioned together from pieces of diverse origin that are somewhat globally-recognized. One could posit, even, that the remix movement/culture is a reaction to postmodernism.
Add to this dystopianism and its entrance into popular confabulation and the result is a 21st century version of doublethink. (If you don’t know that term or where it came from, please find a copy of George Orwell’s “1984” as soon as possible.)
What I mean when I assert dystopianism are some of the ideas purported by Orwell (and many other authors of the genre)—Big Brother, government/organization ownership, and so on. Technology has allowed us to decrease the gap in understanding how universal, but unique the human experience can be and a great many positive things have come about. On the other hand, given the discussion of who owns thoughts and ideas and how much power or influence an organization (including the government) should have, technology and its many minions is a negative entity…Hence, the doublethink. (And hence the hearkening back to postmodernism with its subjectivity assertions.)
If one considers the ideal world of remix, everything is shared and built upon in an arena of coexistence—everyone is an owner, much in the same way a co-op operates or even communism (on paper) is supposed to work. Even digital journalism has joined the conversation, contributing to the discourse about the importance of crediting your online sources (whether this is important and valid or not is another discussion.) But again, this doesn’t account for human nature, which history shows includes greediness.
So here we are…postmodernism still exists, but viewing it through the lens of the current world complicates things. Yes, ideas and life experience are subjective, but our recognition of this is universal—remix is both an acknowledgement of and reaction to this. Legalese bolsters postmodernism, but clouds the current outlook with very technical yet passive dystopian obstacles—government agencies and large corporations own a hell of a lot of our personal thoughts and anecdotes and whatever else we choose to blather on about. Remix challenges these legalities both literally and culturally.
Is this the direction postmodernism is going? If so, what the hell are we going to call it since it isn’t exactly postmodernism (not that postmodernism dares definition)?
Drawing the Line of Personal Privacy Online: Where is it?
The more that I work as a journalist and as a writer, the more I feel the need/desire to censor myself—even just for personal space reasons. I’m a public person for the sole fact that I work in journalism, so boundaries between personal and professional have to be in place to some degree…you have to maintain some level of personal and professional integrity.
The internet was born and came of age after I was born, so the compulsion to share everything and anything about oneself is something I thankfully lack. However, I have struggled at times in deciding what to share of my personal life on this blog and other social media platforms—what do you share that will connect with your readers? What do you share to build some sense of a relationship/friendship with said readers? After all, social media is about and is formed around community, is it not?
Still, I try to keep my personal life out of it…most of the time.
This doesn’t exactly happen when it comes to writing about music. Music is such a visceral experience and the joy in sharing music with others revolves around that innate relationship we all have to music—removing personal experience just isn’t possible. I have the wonderful consequence of listening to some amazing sounds, boomeranging conversations with some prolific songwriters and composers, and at the end of the day teem with an intangible resulting spark.
My work in the industry has undoubtedly led to relationships and friendships that I wouldn’t trade for anything…you find your people where you find your people. What I haven’t wasn’t prepared for (who knows why? It’s the music industry, right?) were groupies (theirs, not mine.) Groupies are different than hardcore fans (All groupies are fans, but not all fans are groupies.) and the lack of distinction between what is appropriate to share and what is far too personal to blast to “public” people IN PUBLIC has me wondering what the hell happened.
Am I just behind on a trend that I find appalling? Or am I the weirdo that looks at the trend of over-sharing personal information as a voluntary violation of personal privacy? Granted, it’s not just groupies that do it…I guess that everyone wants the fifteen minutes of fame that Warhol guaranteed all those years ago. Or perhaps I’m still wrapped up in Marshall McLuhan’s “the message is in the medium.”
So where do you draw it? How personal is too personal? How personal is not personal enough?
And what is the kicker in setting those boundaries?
The Continued Importance of Radio Play: It’s Not What You Think
Pre-internet days, getting major radio play was a big deal—it was the only way to reach a large audience all at once, save for getting a spot at one of the big music festivals. Obviously, getting a video on MTV or VH1 also meant global reach—a viable excuse for spending ridiculous amounts of money on headline directors, special FX, and whatever else might elevate those five minutes on a godlike pedestal. As a musician and from major label perspectives, you were a success if you landed a Top 10 hit.
For music snobs, however, getting instant replay on the radio was reason enough to abandon a previously unknown band/musician (or at least unknown to the masses) as you retorted, “Sellout!” because they suddenly weren’t considered “independent music.” Getting play on the college station or NPR was still cool and respectable and all of us music snobs still fished for new tunes at live shows/concerts/house parties, mixtapes, and digging around on forums like Discogs once our internet connections were morsels faster than dial-up.
So what happened when everything went digital and online?
Our listening habits went digital and online. Why listen to the radio in your car when there’s SiriusXM or your iPod or a mix CD of tracks you lifted illegally from file-sharing services like Napster? (Not encouraging illegal downloads here. Pay for your music.) If you’re hip, you know about We Are Hunted, Hype Machine, and music blogs in general—you don’t need the radio. College stations like Radio1190 started streaming online, podcasts were invented, Pitchfork launched, and YouTube allowed for an influx of DIY music videos. In short, the internet facilitated discovery of spectacular unknown music and made more accessible the coolness factor associated with one’s music taste.
Fast forward to early 2011 when Arcade Fire took Album of the Year at the Grammys with the distinction of not being signed to a major label. Surprising? No. It was only a matter of time. That so many people in the industry and general population were blindsided was surprising. Where on earth had THEY been and what were they listening to?
Point: Radio play remains important—if only to understand the overlap of popularity between the internet and whatever Clear Channel is slinging. Does that change the opinion of a band receiving “airplay” on both mediums? Maybe. Maybe not. For music snobs, however, it might prove enlightening about their status as music snobs. Oh, no. Heaven forbid you might enjoy some of the same tunes that the lowly general public likes.
Filling the static and silence
Loneliness can be overwhelming to the extent of despair. It’s practically an innate need of living things to connect with something or someone that acts not only as a mirror to our subjective experience, but also as validation that our subjective experience is not singular. No matter how desperately we want to believe, at times, that our struggles are ours alone—someone somewhere can, at the very least, relate on some minute level.
I was not a particularly social child growing up. I had no patience for childlike activities or conversations, so it went without saying that discussions with adults were far more enjoyable. The trouble with this, however, lay in the fact that I could never take these discourses home with me or to the playground or the cafeteria or anywhere else where I was supposed to act like a kid among other four-footers. Needless to say, my friends were oft books and chatter limited itself to whatever the singer of the song on the record/radio/cassette tape had to say. That I read Moby Dick over the course of a week in sixth grade might speak more about my isolation than anything else.
My stereo and later the iPod eventually filled the static and silence in later years. There was nothing so holy as hearing someone talk about your life without having ever met you, but telling the story so much more eloquently than you ever believed yourself able. (This remains the case—music connects us to emotions and experiences that are both real and fantasized. Why else would Presidential candidates have pep rally playlists?) Nirvana, Placebo, and The Manic Street Preachers crashed through my version of the 90s and Steppenwolf was my turntable favorite, among others.
Either way, these things took me away from the bubble that I felt I occupied.
Where we previously had books (David Foster Wallace, Elizabeth Wurtzel, Joan Didion) and our favorite bands, the internet and social media cropped up. In a way, the threads that tie us together via social media take what books and bands do and add steroids. Eloquence is one thing, to have an actual conversation with someone that gets it is something else. While you know some vague detail about the people with whom you trade favorite authors or show up at the same shows, the internet affords some speck of anonymity (if desired) when it comes to the gritty, bare bones discussions. You can bare your soul without necessarily having to readily admit it to someone that knows you face to face.
I remember discovering forums and message boards a good ten or fifteen years ago and what a find. You had a handle, you had an avatar, and you could share your secrets without having to share “who” you were. (Of course, now there’s Post Secret, which trumps all of this!) Somehow, even if you felt lonely in your daily life, you could turn on the machine (listen to the bloody modem for those that remember dial-up), and there was suddenly a whole world full of people that “got it.”
People ask now, “Why mess with social media? It seems kind of self-indulgent and a giant waste of time.” I say, why not? It would be like asking, “What’s the point of travelling to other places?” or “Why read the news or magazines?” We are a product of need for other living beings (including plants and animals and whatever else serves as your companion.) Even if one doesn’t particularly like the company of others and prefers a solitary existence (yes, that includes me, the perpetual roommate-free single dweller), we still have a sometimes begrudging need for validation of our existence, of our experience from/by something/someone else.
Even if it’s only a mirror. Figurative or not.
