Last year, I read This Is What It Sounds Like, a work of pop science by Berklee professor Susan Rogers. In one chapter, Rogers discusses the appeal of unfamiliar music. As a case study, she introduces a student, whom she calls Andrew. According to Rogers, Andrew listened to a new album every day. Sometimes he gave Rogers a review of that day’s album. He gave me an idea. Since finishing the book, I’ve been trying something similar. Every day for the last year, I’ve been listening to one album by an unfamiliar artist.
Listening challenges are gimmicky, and several different ones have crossed my path this year. One involves going 24 hours without listening to music. Another entails sitting in one place while listening to multi-disc albums, like Swans’ To Be Kind and The Caretaker’s Everywhere at the End of Time. A friend of mine collects the entire discography of a different musician every year. These challenges sound like tech fads: dopamine fasting, obsessive YouTube view, and, worst of all, raw-dogging.
Andrew’s challenge sounded different. Je liked the same music as me. He gravitated toward music marked by medium popularity and above-average weirdness. According to the book, he introduced Rogers to hardcore punk by dragging her to a show. Andrew’s challenge carried some benefits. It offered a fair shake for unfamiliar genres. It encouraged me to sit down with last year’s album by the guitarist Julian Lage, an artist that I’d unfairly dismissed as Grammy bait.
The challenge exposed me to new artists, lie Erika de Casier, the Danish singer-songwriter behind my least favorite album of last year. Also unmemorable bands with steel guitars and observational lyrics. But introduced me to the drone metal band Big Brave, the artist behind one of my favorite albums of last year.
The challenge encouraged me to find new artists by attending live music in Baltimore. On one occasion, I saw Under the Pier give local support to a touring act. At the merch stand, I bought their album Puff Pieces, a burst of mathcore. I chose that as my album of the day. Other times, I find new bands by scouring the venues’ event calendars. That’s how I found the Australian skramz outfit Blind Girls and the Quebecois post-punk act Bibi Club. At one show, I learned about the D.C. metal band Darkest Hour by asking the person next to me, “What’s on your shirt?”
Once last year, I selected Wendy Eisenberg’s Viewfinder as my daily album. I liked it enough to listen on subsequent days. Then by chance, I saw a free-improvisational duo open for a touring act earlier this year. Because of Andrew’s challenge, I recognized the duo’s guitarist as Eisenberg. I paid better attention after that.
Still, the challenge came with some drawbacks. Sometimes it caused me to ignore long-running artists, including some old favorites. In March, Deafheaven released Lonely People with Power, my favorite album of this year so far. Unfortunately, the band has been droning in my ears for over a decade, and for that reason, the new album evaded me for months.
Granted, I’ve cheated. Yesterday, I counted an EP as an album. Last week, I counted a 7” single, “Dogs/House” by the psychedelic pop group Moon By Moon. Once, I counted the singer-songwriter Sturgill Simpson as a different artist than his alter ego, Johnny Blue Skies. Still, I never intended to copy Andrew’s challenge. I gave priority to artists active around me. That’s why I found so many bands from the mid-Atlantic region and so few entries in my coffee-table copy of 1001 Albums To Hear Before You Die.
In her book, Rogers omits any mention of Andrew’s graduation year. Was she teaching during the era of $18 CDs? Rogers began her academic career in the 2000s, after the piracy revolution. Still, she stresses the cost of seeking new music. “These listeners seek out new sounds at the risk of wasting their money, time, or reputation. Engaging with novel stimuli demands more cognitive effort and commitment than engaging with the routine. It can also carry social and economic costs. Fans of art music spend cash and effort pursuing new musical experiences that don’t always pan out, and sometimes they are mocked for their unconventional tastes,” Rogers writes.
“For those with a genuine appetite for musical risk, the sheer delight of making a new discovery is worth the price.”
I’ve invested some money into ticket fees, and I’ve invested some time into leaving the house. Still, I’ve remained frugal. As a rule, I refuse to pay more than $35 for live music. Also, I’m prioritizing local acts. I can’t be bothered to pay for transportation to performances in other cities. We have mathcore at home. More than time or money, I’ve invested attention.
Before Napster, consumers spent their money to hear an album. Now, consumers spend their attention. They might refuse to pay, either by consuming 30-second snippets or by queueing up a triple album to play through Bluetooth speakers while sending emails. To listen, however, they need to pay attention, the world’s reserve currency. Listeners reap the biggest returns by staying focused while remaining patient.