How Shuffle has Changed Music

These days, it seems shuffle is all the rage. Driving in our cars, out jogging, at work, whatever the situation, it seems a great many of us provide music for the occasion by simply putting our media players on shuffle. Some people use it less, while others I know rarely listen to music in any other way. But either way, it's here and we use it.

Shuffle is a pretty new thing. It appeared in significant fashion only once large libraries of music became easily accessible and portable, essentially developing alongside the popularization of spacious computer hard drives and especially portable media players, most notably the now ubiquitous iPod.

As recent as 10-15 years ago, if you wanted to listen to music, you popped a CD into your CD player and hit the play button. Sure, computer media players existed, but hard drives were quite small compared to the amount of space music files occupied. Computers were mainly used for downloading music and burning it to CD or burning replica or mix CDs. If you wanted to shuffle music, the options available were scant: shuffle a single CD(or maybe several if you had a big expensive multi-CD machine), take the time to make a specific mix CD, or constantly rifle through your collection and switch CDs all the time. Go back to the pre-compact disc era and even shuffling a single album becomes difficult. You had to manually find tracks with a record needle or on magnetic tape. Now, anyone can walk around with 80 gigabytes of music in their pocket and randomize all or any subset of it on demand.

This seemingly simple development is huge and has clear ramifications on the manner in which music is experienced and even created. Pre-shuffle, if someone bought a CD, the most likely and obvious manner in which they would listen to it was in order, maybe all the way through if it was good. Now, some people don't even listen to their new music until it comes up in a general shuffle of a much larger playlist.

As a creator of music, knowing the likely way in which the audience will listen to a set of discrete tracks allows one to structure them in an intentional manner. The most obvious example of this would be programmatic albums, but even aside from this, there are a myriad of albums for which it seems pretty clear the order of the tracks was carefully chosen. Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" is a great example in my mind. The tracks aren't expressing an explicit sequence, but the album creates lulls, contrasts, thematicism, and intrigue with the track ordering. The frenetic and tense nature of "On the Run" gives way to the ominous quiet and ticking of clocks in "Time," creating a very noticeable atmosphere, for example. Listening to the two tracks out of context or order creates a vastly different experience of them.

Shuffle changes this dynamic from both the sides of the composer and the audience. The composer no longer has any reason to use album organization as part of the artistic idea of an album if listeners cannot reasonable be expected to listen to albums in a manner that keeps album ordering reasonably intact. On the other hand, listeners will listen to albums that do place importance on track order(most albums don't explicitly claim the importance of listening to them in order, but that doesn't mean that it isn't there) out of order and change that part of the experience from the artist's original intent.

From personal experience, I have actually had people tell me about listening to excerpts from Pink Floyd's "The Wall" on shuffle, and that this is an explicitly programmatic work is no secret. Musically, the tracks were not designed as singles and possess an incredible amount of interrelation. In my opinion, this is one of the biggest draws of the album: its intricacy. Regardless of whether one considers it positive or negative, it's a huge part of the experience. Listening to "The Wall" in fragmented and disordered form is what led an acquaintance of mine to describe the album to me as "'Comfortably Numb' and a bunch of bad songs."

That's the power of shuffle.

I can't get it out of my head . . .

Lately, as I have been listening to and discussing Lady Gaga's work with some of my friends, I have noticed a theme recur: her music is said to be "catchy." And I agree. I find her single, "Poker Face," to be an especially catchy song. I remember it, and to use the cliche phrase, it get's stuck in my head: I find I unconsciously remember it.

Of course not all music is catchy or gets stuck in one's head. I've never had anyone tell me that Penderecki's "Threnody" is a catchy piece, nor do I find my thoughts drifting to its musical content seemingly on their own, even though I know the piece fairly well. I have to concentrate to play the sounds in my head. I don't think it is just me either. There are certain qualities that would, in my belief, logically make a song more likely to be "catchy."

Repetition - This makes sense on a lot of levels. If you hear something once, your chances or remembering it aren't that good. But hear it over and over again, and the odds are a lot better. Additionally, repetition creates logical patterns that our brains can easily replicate and extend. Perhaps this has something to do with why songs get "stuck" in our heads.

Most contemporary popular music is strophic and thus inherently has some built in repetition. However, looking at "Poker Face," there is in fact much more repetition. The percussive beat is a constant repeated pattern, devoid of even the customary fills. The vocals are presented over a background of short, repeated melodic phrases produced by electronic instruments. There is some variation here, but not enough to stop is from all seeming like a single repeating unit.

Steady Well Defined Beat - The idea of a steady pulse seems to be hardwired into us. Heartbeats, for one, are a steady pulse and have been very consciously cited as an influence on music throughout written history. Secondly, ministry of silly walks aside, people walk evenly at and a steady pace naturally. So, music with a regular pulse feels natural. A piece with alternative measures of 5/8 and 7/4 with constant eighth notes feels unnatural, just like taking different sized uneven steps while walking. As for definition, the stereotypical pounding bass associated with nightclubs isn't necessary per say, but it is impossible to perceive a beat as natural if you can't tell where it is or if it moves around.

Simplicity - I'm not saying full on minimalism, but if the content is very complicated in its various aspects, it becomes too difficult to remember easily, or even at all. "Poker Face" fits this well in my opinion. There are no bizarre rhythms, no jarring changes of tonality. The various melodies and melodic fragments move primarily by steps and common chord intervals such as thirds, fourths, and fifths. Due to the way western music has developed, these intervals are the easiest for us to hear in our minds, as well as sing.

Familiarity - While there are trends, there is also much disparity in what different people find catchy. A lot of this has to do with what we have become accustomed to. I tend to find this overrides the other factors. Personally, I can perceive Frank Ticheli's "Vesuvius" as catchy despite the fact that it consists largely of an irregular 2+3+2+2 rhythmic pattern. I've played in wind bands for so long and dealt with 5/8, 7/8, 11/8 and other sorts of uneven meters involves 3s and 2s that it no longer seems so irregular.

Another example is a story told about an indian musician(I have heard Ravi Shankar but I am not sure) who was brought to a western orchestra concert. When he was asked what his favorite part was, he answered the beginning of the concert, when the instruments were tuning. Having spent all his life in a musical environment where microtonal music was the norm, this was what resonated with him. In line with this, "Poker Face" has a lot in common with the other music someone listening to pop stations would hear.

These are just a few ideas from me. Additions or contentions? Throw something in the comments section.