BY LIANA KATZ

In print | September 4, 2008

When I was in middle school, mix tapes were my musical saviors. Before I received my first mix tape, I was content with listening quietly to Dido’s dull harmonies while doing pre-algebra homework. Then a friend placed a rectangular piece of plastic accompanied by a hand-scribbled track listing in my hands. Soon, my desire to be a mathematician was nipped in the bud and the songs on that tape still remain among my favorites ten years later.

Although it is a now virtually obsolete art form, the mix tape has a rich and sentimental history tied to the development of underground music scenes and musical technology. The first mixes appeared on the monstrous 8-tracks of the 1960s and early 1970s. When tape players infiltrated the market and eclipsed the 8-track, it became easier than ever to compile personal mixes with high quality sound. The ascendence of the mix tape introduced a new era of musical freedom. The ball-and-chain of LPs and EPs fell away as listeners could mash together their own “greatest hits” albums.

In addition to providing another nerve-wracking way to confess your true feelings to a potential significant other, the mix tape also played a significant role in hip-hop’s rise from the parties of the Bronx to the mainstream. Early hip-hop artists such as Afrika Bambaataa and DJ Grandmaster Flash would record portions of their live shows, increasing their notoriety via the circulation of their tapes. In more recent years, Chamillionaire worked his way up to winning two Grammys by independently releasing his own mix tapes.

Today, the mix tape is generally regarded as an artifact of one’s fuzzy, youthful years. Books such as Rob Sheffield’s “Love is a Mix Tape” and Thurston Moore’s “Mix Tape: the Art of Cassette Culture” have washed mix tapes in pastel-colored indie schmaltz. In my opinion, however, the mix tape does not deserve such literary dirges. The fact is that while the tape is a relic of the past, the function of the mix tape has been absorbed into contemporary ways of listening to music. Media players such as iTunes allow users to pick and choose what tracks they want to hear. Playlist and shuffle functions have the power to create endless numbers of digital mix tapes that can be repeated once or a thousand times over. Blogs have now taken over the domain that once belonged to torn pieces of looseleaf paper.

While the internet and digital media have significantly expanded the possibilities of the mix tape, I am sometimes guilty of waxing nostalgic over clunky cassettes. When I hear that someone has never received a mix, I have to fight the urge to drag my tape and radio combo player out of the attic and compile 80 minutes of music. Luckily, the International Mixtape Project finds a happy medium, using the internet to coordinate an international web of mix tape exchanges. I am signing up today.
In closing, and, to introduce my column, which will explore the intersecting paths of music and technology, I offer Side A of a mix tape inspired by Progress with a capital P. Imagine my loopy handwriting in place of the neat typeface below.

Track 1: “Airbag” by Radiohead
In which Thom Yorke warbles about his dislikes (cars, car crashes, airplanes) and likes (seatbelts).

Track 2: “1984” by David Bowie
After reading George Orwell’s 1984, Bowie was inspired to compose this ode to a society under the oppressive eye of a totalitarian regime or something along those lines.

Track 3: “Digital” by Joy Division
This is what encroaching technological insanity sounds like.

Track 4: “Video Killed the Radio Star” by the Buggles
Every mix tape needs a semi-ironic inclusion of some sort, right?

Track 5: “Tables and Chairs” by Andrew Bird
Bird welcomes the apocalypse with a sweet song and informs us all that there will be snacks when the world ends.

Liana is a sophomore. You can reach her at lkatz1@swarthmore.edu.

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