019 - in defense of the compact disc

Y2K is back in a big way. Baggy jeans, dad shoes, and Matrix sunglasses are once again all the rage. Resale markets for early aughts luxuries from Chanel handbags to Nintendos are way up despite the economy at large. The kids are even using digital cameras again, so I hear.

The nostalgia extends beyond the style, though - it's a statement of our collective longing for a simpler era; a reactionary expression against society's shaky progression over the past two decades in which tech has played a driving role. Within that time a handful of companies have managed to put smartphones in the hands of virtually every man, woman, and child on the planet, irrevocably altering human society and forever intertwining our lives with our devices...

...and for the most part, it's great! We have a giant invisible vault of infinite knowledge that we can ask questions (like how many cups are in a liter) and social networks that let you spy on your ex to see if she's still dating that guy (she is). Human beings, however, are not unlimited and infinite, and an unlimited and infinite stream of data is only useful to a point; eventually, an interminable abundance of options become a hindrance and dilutes the value of the things we consume and enjoy. Maybe more stuff, faster isn't always best.

Of all the things that modern tech has rendered seemingly obsolete, the CD sits near the top of the list. Ever since the days of vinyl, the quest has always been to make music more portable - why lug heavy crates of vinyl records to the club when you could just bring a stack of CDs, and why carry CDs when you can just fit "a thousand songs in your pocket", as the original iPod famously advertised?

In the iPhone and Android era, there's something extremely pleasing about an item that just does one thing (see: digital cameras). The appeal of the CD is in its limitations, both in physical size and data storage capacity - if you only have about a dozen songs' worth of space, they'd better slap, especially when you had to fork over your hard-saved $9.99 for that new Blink-182 or Britney Spears album. And if you spent the money, you'd take the time to flick through the cover booklet and listen through the entire thing time and time again on your way to school or swim practice instead of just cherry-picking one or two singles to your favorites playlist; an art lost in the Spotify era. Even with the proliferation of the iPod, it's only been in the last few years that the scales have truly tipped towards streaming. When I started DJing back in 2009, I was still burning physical CDs and bringing them to nightclubs - I had to know every element of every song and only took the time to rip & burn the tracks that really got the room going. No room for filler.

Another under-appreciated aspect of the compact disc is the physical player; an element of design in and of itself worthy of further discussion. Danish manufacturer Bang & Olufsen in particular created some stunning examples that packaged great sound into sleek pieces fit for (and found in) the MoMA. Many of these older systems sell secondhand for far above retail, and newer re-issues have even been released with features like Bluetooth connectivity to marry classic forms with modern functionality.

In a world with so much stuff lived largely through screens, it's easy to get figuratively lost in the sauce. As one small act of rebellion, I've truly enjoyed rediscovering my old CD collection as of late - and while I still enjoy poking through whatever algorithmized playlist Spotify throws together for me, I get a lot more out of ripping through an old Red Hot Chili Peppers album in my car with the windows down. Call me old-fashioned.