When I finish a book or movie or CD or game, one of my first thoughts is, of course, processing how I felt about it. Did I like it? Would I like to experience it again? How would I compare it to others? Quite often for me, this boils down to a single rating, which somewhat reductively describes my experience with the item. In this way, I can look back later and remember first, if I’ve already done something (read that book, for example), and second, did I enjoy it? One concept I struggle with, however, is the multitude of rating systems. You have stars, half-stars, 10-point scales, 100-point scales, and many others.
Somewhat obsessively, I like to catalog what I’ve experienced. I have multiple accounts that track my music listened, games played, movies watched, books read, and so on. I like to go back and look at what I’ve accomplished. It’s also a good way to compare artistic tastes with friends. Most often, the best way to track this kind of information is by assigning it a rating, and as we know, rating systems can vary wildly.
The confusion of different systems arises because so many publications try to utilize unique ways of reviewing items. Websites and magazines that review products are in constant competition for views. Numeric ratings are often used in conjunction with a longer written review, obviously far more informative. Longer reviews, however, have the larger problem that most people would rather look at the number without digging into the article. Personally, I glance through a review only when I’m interested in the item in question. So, the rating system is a quick way to grab attention for the item.
I have had many debates with friends about what is the most effective system. Largely, these discrepancies revolve around the degrees with which items can be assigned. Five stars obviously gives five levels of definable quality; a 100-point scale gives 101 levels (including 0). As you can see, these get more precise with more levels. My personal preference falls somewhere in between.
100-point scales are a bit excessive. Though they carry a sense of scientific nature, it is mostly impossible to assign a sense of value with so many options. Questions arise like: is a 68 really better than a 66? These statements are obviously impossible to discern. However you feel about aggregate sites like Metacritic, these actually are take an average rating based on a collection of ratings and you can actually explore the differences between a 66 and a 68. But in the end, there is not much of a difference.
Ten stars is tricky. It gives twice as many choices as five stars, but not nearly as many as 100. In this way, we can get more specific responses, without getting ludicrously deep into ratings that differ by 2%. But I have issues with 10-point scales as well. Although I like the scaling, there is an inherent nature of interpreting quality, where any rating below about a 6 is considered ‘below average.’ Perhaps it is largely a problem in the U.S.--where a 60% is generally considered failing in the education system--but this has an enormous effect on how we comprehend low scores. Because of what we (at least in the U.S.) have learned, even something that earns 7 stars is considered mediocre.
The argument for five stars is a good one. The best way I have heard it described is that three stars is average with two levels above average and two below. I believe this is the most popular preference because it is most akin to how we think about quality. Was it very good? Five stars. Just okay? Two stars. The ease of use with a rating system like this makes it easily translatable. Furthermore, three stars is perceived as a better rating than a 60 out of 100. My issues with this system is that there is just not enough to differentiate from other ratings. I don’t enjoy every four-star item the same way; some are better than others. This is why I believe the best way to rate includes five stars with half stars.
I’ve been told that my issue with half stars is that I compare items against each other too much. Simply because I enjoyed something more than another is not reason enough to assign it a higher rating. I acknowledge that this is an issue, but I can’t help it. It’s only natural to compare media, so why wouldn’t you want to say something deserves a higher rating than something else? To me, half stars is as granular as I need to be to denote how I feel about a piece of entertainment.
Obviously, the rating is totally dependent on the rater. I know when it means when I’ve given something four stars, but I also know what it means when I assign something a 7 out of 10. The rating doesn’t matter; it’s how you ultimately felt about the item in question.
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
Thursday, August 6, 2015
A Comment About Comments
The Internet is a great place for millions of users to come together and share ideas. The network allows for more interconnectedness than television, radio, or any other technology before. Anyone can share their creations. It is easier than ever to find someone who connects with an interest and have a dialogue with that person. Evidently, it is also very easy to display strong attitude, sometimes with hatred towards a person or group. I’m speaking, of course, of comments.
Scroll down to the bottom of most web pages and you will find the comments section. Some of them are blocked by login information while others require Google or Facebook verification, but the infamous ones have seemingly no rules and anyone can post whatever they want under the guise of “anonymous.” If you’ve spent any amount of time on the Internet, you have probably heard it before: “Don’t read the comments!”1 Ostensibly, this section is a place for users to reflect knowledgeably upon what they have just read or watched. But it is not uncommon for this to devolve into rabid spewing of inappropriate or offensive speech almost completely unrelated to the original content. This is a problem.
Some websites are built entirely on the premise that sane folks can have a reasonable discussion in comments. And these can be successful because of the community that builds around the discussion. Based on the traditional sense of a public assembly, Internet ‘forums’ allow people to virtually gather and discuss a range of topics. These are the very best examples of comments on the Internet, as they allow like-minded people to be together. As the community grows, inflammatory commenters are excised. The opposite of this strict self-policing is a sort of free-for-all where people are rude almost immediately. YouTube is a notorious example, where commenters can be outright abusive. I’m just going to vent a bit, so if you want to skip the next two paragraphs, that’s okay.
Why do these kinds of people do this? What gives them the right to trash an otherwise fine piece of content? These are both difficult questions to answer, but one short, acceptable answer is that our freedom of speech extends to cover ideas stated on the Internet. People feel that they have the power to say whatever they wish, and that others need to listen to them. To an extent, this is true: all of us on the Internet have an equal voice. But these people are also wrong. Just because hate-speeches are widely publicized, this does not make them right or even popular. Even online, ignorant speech is still ignorant. And hateful people are still idiots.
Another obvious answer to the question, is that commenters can hide behind anonymity. A cowardly person can say whatever they want if their name is not directly to the left. There is nothing to risk by antagonizing others. Unless there is a some kind of thumbs down feature, that comment will exist as long as people respond to it. Which is, of course, the improper way to deal with “trolls” on the Internet. The best thing to do is let them say what they will and ignore it. Or read it and laugh at them inwardly because you are better than them2. Either will suffice.
ANYWAY, I’m done with the negativity. Here is an absolutely radical theory: is it possible that comments are actually a positive force on the Internet? I might go so far as to suggest that they have become a part of the original content. Is that too much? For better or for worse, I believe our experiences are shaped by external opinions. I might think differently about a video after having read a comment about it. This might be a sad way to look at it, because it implies we cannot arrive at opinions on our own. That’s not really what I mean. I’d like to think browsing comments give us different avenues of thought from which to compare. I came to this realization while reading a library book in which another reader had written some notes in the margins of the book. It occurred to me that this marginalia really was affecting how I was reading the book.
As an undergraduate, I’m sure I remember a philosopher positing that a piece of literature is only half produced by the author. The other half is from the reader and the experiences they bring to the reading. This implies that every book is different for every reader any given time they read it. This also suggests that comments play a significant role in our comprehension of the work. For instance, if I read a news article online that particularly fascinates me, I purposely scroll through the top dozen or so comments, just to gauge the reactions of others. And yes, this affects my reading of the article. Therefore, I think that comments have slowly become part of the entire piece.
Basically, be careful with comments. They might have more of an effect than you think. It does not make sense to merely post that you don’t like something. Disagreeing with the content or another poster without providing any reasoning whatsoever does not add anything substantial to the conversation. Thoughtful is always best in comments.
So, what do you think? Are comments meaningless addendum to online publications, or should they be taken more seriously? Let me know what you think below.
1 There are myriad hilarious examples of these types of messages online that spoof the ridiculous nature of comments. Sometimes, though, the parodies are more accurate than they should be.↩
2 In fact, I do get some enjoyment out of reading bad comments because some people are so laughably dense.↩
Scroll down to the bottom of most web pages and you will find the comments section. Some of them are blocked by login information while others require Google or Facebook verification, but the infamous ones have seemingly no rules and anyone can post whatever they want under the guise of “anonymous.” If you’ve spent any amount of time on the Internet, you have probably heard it before: “Don’t read the comments!”1 Ostensibly, this section is a place for users to reflect knowledgeably upon what they have just read or watched. But it is not uncommon for this to devolve into rabid spewing of inappropriate or offensive speech almost completely unrelated to the original content. This is a problem.
Some websites are built entirely on the premise that sane folks can have a reasonable discussion in comments. And these can be successful because of the community that builds around the discussion. Based on the traditional sense of a public assembly, Internet ‘forums’ allow people to virtually gather and discuss a range of topics. These are the very best examples of comments on the Internet, as they allow like-minded people to be together. As the community grows, inflammatory commenters are excised. The opposite of this strict self-policing is a sort of free-for-all where people are rude almost immediately. YouTube is a notorious example, where commenters can be outright abusive. I’m just going to vent a bit, so if you want to skip the next two paragraphs, that’s okay.
Why do these kinds of people do this? What gives them the right to trash an otherwise fine piece of content? These are both difficult questions to answer, but one short, acceptable answer is that our freedom of speech extends to cover ideas stated on the Internet. People feel that they have the power to say whatever they wish, and that others need to listen to them. To an extent, this is true: all of us on the Internet have an equal voice. But these people are also wrong. Just because hate-speeches are widely publicized, this does not make them right or even popular. Even online, ignorant speech is still ignorant. And hateful people are still idiots.
Another obvious answer to the question, is that commenters can hide behind anonymity. A cowardly person can say whatever they want if their name is not directly to the left. There is nothing to risk by antagonizing others. Unless there is a some kind of thumbs down feature, that comment will exist as long as people respond to it. Which is, of course, the improper way to deal with “trolls” on the Internet. The best thing to do is let them say what they will and ignore it. Or read it and laugh at them inwardly because you are better than them2. Either will suffice.
ANYWAY, I’m done with the negativity. Here is an absolutely radical theory: is it possible that comments are actually a positive force on the Internet? I might go so far as to suggest that they have become a part of the original content. Is that too much? For better or for worse, I believe our experiences are shaped by external opinions. I might think differently about a video after having read a comment about it. This might be a sad way to look at it, because it implies we cannot arrive at opinions on our own. That’s not really what I mean. I’d like to think browsing comments give us different avenues of thought from which to compare. I came to this realization while reading a library book in which another reader had written some notes in the margins of the book. It occurred to me that this marginalia really was affecting how I was reading the book.
As an undergraduate, I’m sure I remember a philosopher positing that a piece of literature is only half produced by the author. The other half is from the reader and the experiences they bring to the reading. This implies that every book is different for every reader any given time they read it. This also suggests that comments play a significant role in our comprehension of the work. For instance, if I read a news article online that particularly fascinates me, I purposely scroll through the top dozen or so comments, just to gauge the reactions of others. And yes, this affects my reading of the article. Therefore, I think that comments have slowly become part of the entire piece.
Basically, be careful with comments. They might have more of an effect than you think. It does not make sense to merely post that you don’t like something. Disagreeing with the content or another poster without providing any reasoning whatsoever does not add anything substantial to the conversation. Thoughtful is always best in comments.
So, what do you think? Are comments meaningless addendum to online publications, or should they be taken more seriously? Let me know what you think below.
1 There are myriad hilarious examples of these types of messages online that spoof the ridiculous nature of comments. Sometimes, though, the parodies are more accurate than they should be.↩
2 In fact, I do get some enjoyment out of reading bad comments because some people are so laughably dense.↩
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
Just Don't Call It a "Rock Opera"
I hate the term “rock opera.” Granted, I probably thought it was cool the first time I heard it, but it did not take long for the stupidity of the name to sink in. I mean, what does that name accomplish? It’s rock music, sure. So, because the songs have a related theme, it’s becomes an opera? The opera is not music’s equivalent to the short story collection. It simply does not make sense. And I try not to even think about the next iteration: the “hip-hopera.” Awful. Just awful. Call them by their more elegant names “concept albums,” please, regardless of how pretentious you will sound. Anyway, I hate the term as much as I love the thing itself. That’s right: I adore “concept albums.”
Even though most (if not all) concept albums come off as comical or mediocre, I find them immensely enjoyable. Music is not notoriously known for telling an engaging story, but just the hint of a deeper meaning is enough for me to listen that much more intently, to try to find that glimmer. And usually, as the story unfolds, I find myself thinking that the story would be barely passable in a movie or story. I always convince myself, though, that it works in this context. I give albums with a message the benefit of the doubt that I certainly don’t give to books. I think that’s what makes concept albums so interesting to me--I’m willing to fully buy into a story even if it is basically garbage.
Sometime, somewhere, a person was tired with making individual songs, so they focused on creating a story using the full hour of an album. It was probably Sinatra, so it was probably very good1. This caught on, and now we have new concept albums fairly regularly. The unification of a collection that was formerly unrelated is the same reason I love short stories that function together. I cannot always defend the story itself, but the idea is an attractive one to me. Regardless of how ridiculous the message almost always turns out to be (usually involving an oppressed young person), I can make the excuse, “At least they are trying it.”
Personally, I get something more out of listening to an entire album as opposed to individual songs. There is something to be said about an artist establishing an order to which their songs should be listened. In most cases, an album just seems to be the proper way to listen to all of the songs. A concept album is the extended form of this, as the songs tell a story and need to be listened to in a set order. I’ll briefly go through some of the most famous examples, as well as some of my favorites.
1969 - Probably the first and possibly the most famous concept album, The Who’s Tommy presents a deaf, dumb, and blind boy who grows up in the 1920s. Most people know of the character’s prowess as a pinball player, but the album goes into more of his experiences with his family, dealing with difficult topics such as abuse. The album is also The Who’s first foray into concept albums, as they returned to format in 1973 with Quadrophenia.
1979 - If not for Tommy, Pink Floyd’s The Wall would be unquestionably the most famous concept album, and it probably does the best job in storytelling. It tackles the emotional problems of the protagonist, Pink, in ways that some novels can’t approach. It was turned into a successful, albeit disturbing film three years later in 1982, and the show was still performed for decades by Roger Waters, who wrote the album. Like The Who, this is not Pink Floyd’s only example of a concept album, but it is certainly the most clear and the most profound.
1984 - I might be cheating here by using a soundtrack to a movie, but, honestly, Prince’s music of Purple Rain is the important part of the movie, not the story. And the music is really incredible, probably Prince’s best material. It may still be considered a concept album, in my opinion, because it does tell a ludicrous futuristic love story.
2000 - In what could be the very first “hip-hopera,” the rap supergroup consisting of Del the Funky Homosapien, Dan the Automator, and Kid Koala released the album, Deltron 3030. Set a millenia in the future, the rappers need battle dangerous robots in space. If it sounds ridiculous, it is. It’s also great. And there are some good messages and themes present as well.
2004 - I have an unreasonable love for Green Day’s American Idiot, and I would defend it as one of the band’s best albums. It is an album I can sing (and occasionally have sung) every word along with the band. The music is intense, and the lyrics have moments of brilliance, even if they beat the listener over the head in blatant political overtones. Even though I realize that the story isn’t great, I’ve been championing a movie since the album’s release. It came out at just the right time for me and will always be one of my favorites.
1 In fact, some say In the Wee Small Hours was the first concept album. So, yeah, that’s a pretty high standard to meet.↩
Even though most (if not all) concept albums come off as comical or mediocre, I find them immensely enjoyable. Music is not notoriously known for telling an engaging story, but just the hint of a deeper meaning is enough for me to listen that much more intently, to try to find that glimmer. And usually, as the story unfolds, I find myself thinking that the story would be barely passable in a movie or story. I always convince myself, though, that it works in this context. I give albums with a message the benefit of the doubt that I certainly don’t give to books. I think that’s what makes concept albums so interesting to me--I’m willing to fully buy into a story even if it is basically garbage.
Sometime, somewhere, a person was tired with making individual songs, so they focused on creating a story using the full hour of an album. It was probably Sinatra, so it was probably very good1. This caught on, and now we have new concept albums fairly regularly. The unification of a collection that was formerly unrelated is the same reason I love short stories that function together. I cannot always defend the story itself, but the idea is an attractive one to me. Regardless of how ridiculous the message almost always turns out to be (usually involving an oppressed young person), I can make the excuse, “At least they are trying it.”
Personally, I get something more out of listening to an entire album as opposed to individual songs. There is something to be said about an artist establishing an order to which their songs should be listened. In most cases, an album just seems to be the proper way to listen to all of the songs. A concept album is the extended form of this, as the songs tell a story and need to be listened to in a set order. I’ll briefly go through some of the most famous examples, as well as some of my favorites.
* * *
1969 - Probably the first and possibly the most famous concept album, The Who’s Tommy presents a deaf, dumb, and blind boy who grows up in the 1920s. Most people know of the character’s prowess as a pinball player, but the album goes into more of his experiences with his family, dealing with difficult topics such as abuse. The album is also The Who’s first foray into concept albums, as they returned to format in 1973 with Quadrophenia.
1979 - If not for Tommy, Pink Floyd’s The Wall would be unquestionably the most famous concept album, and it probably does the best job in storytelling. It tackles the emotional problems of the protagonist, Pink, in ways that some novels can’t approach. It was turned into a successful, albeit disturbing film three years later in 1982, and the show was still performed for decades by Roger Waters, who wrote the album. Like The Who, this is not Pink Floyd’s only example of a concept album, but it is certainly the most clear and the most profound.
1984 - I might be cheating here by using a soundtrack to a movie, but, honestly, Prince’s music of Purple Rain is the important part of the movie, not the story. And the music is really incredible, probably Prince’s best material. It may still be considered a concept album, in my opinion, because it does tell a ludicrous futuristic love story.
2000 - In what could be the very first “hip-hopera,” the rap supergroup consisting of Del the Funky Homosapien, Dan the Automator, and Kid Koala released the album, Deltron 3030. Set a millenia in the future, the rappers need battle dangerous robots in space. If it sounds ridiculous, it is. It’s also great. And there are some good messages and themes present as well.
2004 - I have an unreasonable love for Green Day’s American Idiot, and I would defend it as one of the band’s best albums. It is an album I can sing (and occasionally have sung) every word along with the band. The music is intense, and the lyrics have moments of brilliance, even if they beat the listener over the head in blatant political overtones. Even though I realize that the story isn’t great, I’ve been championing a movie since the album’s release. It came out at just the right time for me and will always be one of my favorites.
* * *
There are several more I could have listed here that are just as good, but there are really too many to mention. It seems like albums that tell a story are becoming more and more prevalent. This is a cool thing. I realize the stories of concept albums can sometimes be lacking, and the music isn’t always great, but I am always excited about the possibilities. It just gives more of a reason to sit down with an album and have an experience. Just as the artist intended.
1 In fact, some say In the Wee Small Hours was the first concept album. So, yeah, that’s a pretty high standard to meet.↩
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
One Golden Album
I have strong reason to believe that the first album I ever heard was Gordon Lightfoot’s 1975 compilation album, Gord’s Gold. And that makes me very happy. According to my parents, around the time I was born, one of the only cassettes they played regularly was Gord’s Gold. If it was not the first album I ever heard (unlikely), then it is definitely the one I have listened to for the longest.
If I were to rank my favorite Canadian musical artists, I would be hard-pressed to come up with someone higher on my list than Gordon Lightfoot. Although I listen to them from time to time, I’m not the biggest fan of either Arcade Fire or Rush. For me, Gordon even leads Neil Young in the category of prolific Canadian folk artists. I just find Gordon Lightfoot to be incredibly authentic and all-around enjoyable. Unfortunately, he is often underrepresented in folk music discussions.
As with the most talented folk artists, Gordon Lightfoot has the ability to tell incredible stories with his songs. He ranges from heartbreaking to uplifting, but the captivating narratives always feel honest and true. Some of his very best stories are displayed on this collection1. “Song for a Winter’s Night” makes the listener feel like riding through a snow-covered woods. The seven-minute epic “Canadian Railroad Trilogy” chronicles the history and importance of the railroad spreading across the continent. My personal favorite, “Steel Rail Blues,” tells the tragic tale of a person who cannot seem reconnect with his love.
Usually I’m not the biggest proponent of greatest hits albums. They may range from offensive to tolerable, and not worth owning on the whole. I feel that listening to individual tracks takes away from the overall listening experience, and often the so-called “greatest” tracks overshadow some truly great songs tucked away on a lesser-known album. But I thoroughly enjoy Gord’s Gold so much that it still gets fairly often airtime in my CD player. That is not to take anything away from his studio albums, which are very good. I just stick with what I know best, and Gordon’s hits collection is what I’ve grown up knowing.
I have bought this album five times on three different mediums--and every single one has suffered a tragic demise. Two cassettes unspooled, forever ruining one of my stereos. One CD that I purchased (new) has an unexplainable skip during “Minstrel of the Dawn.” The other CD had a staple through the disc that was intended to hold the liner notes together. And a groove on my LP version has an infinite loop on side B. It must be a sign, but it won’t stop me from picking up new copies.
For a greatest hits album, Gord’s Gold is remarkably thorough. The songs function as an album as a whole, rather than a collection of unrelated songs. This is due, in part, to the fact that many of the songs were re-recorded for the new release, so there is a level of consistency throughout the pieces. Released in 1975, the album encapsulates his early career, which is probably his best material. While a second volume of his greatest hits, released over a decade later, was hampered by some forgettable numbers, there is not a bad song on the first volume of Gord’s Gold.
As it is famously proclaimed on the front cover, this was a “2 record set on 1 specially-priced disc.” I think this is a telling description: the album is long without feeling tedious. It is over seventy minutes long, and it is the perfect type of anthology to put on for a stretch of time. I recommend tracking down the song “Affair on Eighth Avenue,” a song missing from the CD release, for the full experience. This is the kind of album where even shuffling for a dozen or so songs is a wonderful time.
One of my favorite memories from college was belting every word to Gord’s Gold late at night with a friend. I certainly don’t do that with many albums. That should be a clue of the power of the Canadian musical genius, Gordon Lightfoot.
1 Perhaps Lightfoot’s best-known tale, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” is absent in this collection. It was released the next year.↩
If I were to rank my favorite Canadian musical artists, I would be hard-pressed to come up with someone higher on my list than Gordon Lightfoot. Although I listen to them from time to time, I’m not the biggest fan of either Arcade Fire or Rush. For me, Gordon even leads Neil Young in the category of prolific Canadian folk artists. I just find Gordon Lightfoot to be incredibly authentic and all-around enjoyable. Unfortunately, he is often underrepresented in folk music discussions.
As with the most talented folk artists, Gordon Lightfoot has the ability to tell incredible stories with his songs. He ranges from heartbreaking to uplifting, but the captivating narratives always feel honest and true. Some of his very best stories are displayed on this collection1. “Song for a Winter’s Night” makes the listener feel like riding through a snow-covered woods. The seven-minute epic “Canadian Railroad Trilogy” chronicles the history and importance of the railroad spreading across the continent. My personal favorite, “Steel Rail Blues,” tells the tragic tale of a person who cannot seem reconnect with his love.
Usually I’m not the biggest proponent of greatest hits albums. They may range from offensive to tolerable, and not worth owning on the whole. I feel that listening to individual tracks takes away from the overall listening experience, and often the so-called “greatest” tracks overshadow some truly great songs tucked away on a lesser-known album. But I thoroughly enjoy Gord’s Gold so much that it still gets fairly often airtime in my CD player. That is not to take anything away from his studio albums, which are very good. I just stick with what I know best, and Gordon’s hits collection is what I’ve grown up knowing.
I have bought this album five times on three different mediums--and every single one has suffered a tragic demise. Two cassettes unspooled, forever ruining one of my stereos. One CD that I purchased (new) has an unexplainable skip during “Minstrel of the Dawn.” The other CD had a staple through the disc that was intended to hold the liner notes together. And a groove on my LP version has an infinite loop on side B. It must be a sign, but it won’t stop me from picking up new copies.
For a greatest hits album, Gord’s Gold is remarkably thorough. The songs function as an album as a whole, rather than a collection of unrelated songs. This is due, in part, to the fact that many of the songs were re-recorded for the new release, so there is a level of consistency throughout the pieces. Released in 1975, the album encapsulates his early career, which is probably his best material. While a second volume of his greatest hits, released over a decade later, was hampered by some forgettable numbers, there is not a bad song on the first volume of Gord’s Gold.
As it is famously proclaimed on the front cover, this was a “2 record set on 1 specially-priced disc.” I think this is a telling description: the album is long without feeling tedious. It is over seventy minutes long, and it is the perfect type of anthology to put on for a stretch of time. I recommend tracking down the song “Affair on Eighth Avenue,” a song missing from the CD release, for the full experience. This is the kind of album where even shuffling for a dozen or so songs is a wonderful time.
One of my favorite memories from college was belting every word to Gord’s Gold late at night with a friend. I certainly don’t do that with many albums. That should be a clue of the power of the Canadian musical genius, Gordon Lightfoot.
1 Perhaps Lightfoot’s best-known tale, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” is absent in this collection. It was released the next year.↩
Sunday, May 24, 2015
Welcome to a Podcast Phenom
In order to become an engaging serialized story, whether it is a novel, TV show, or anything, it must first be inventive and new. Tried, overused themes are quickly lost among other stories. Instead, a piece that is new has a chance to build a group of followers. To remain relevant over a longer period of time, though, it must continue to adapt but also stay true to its beginnings. I’m speaking broadly, of course, but this is exactly what happened to the podcasting phenom, Welcome to Night Vale.
To understand this show, first, you must understand podcasts, and they are difficult to understand unless you are already hooked on them. They truly can be sort of addicting. Beginning in the mid-2000s, the easiest way to understand them is as an on-demand form of information and entertainment. I’m sure most of you have heard of the captivating drama, Serial, which enthralled millions each week and has left listeners eagerly anticipating a second season. Ultra-trendy, these downloadable audio files are a viable replacement to talk radio. In fact, many shows on National Public Radio are already found on-demand in the podcast form. They are easy to make, inexpensive to share, and (usually) free of cost to access.
Because basically anyone can make one with cheap software and tools, they can be found on an incredible range of topics, sports, news, science, comedy, anything that interests you. Podcasts can be incredibly informative, or they can be a regular form of entertainment. I think committing to a podcast is one of the best ways to learn about a subject that you wanted to get into. And some of them, I look forward to as much as I do a weekly comic book or TV show. There are so many of them, though, that it is sometimes difficult to choose which ones are the best and to dedicate so much time to these shows.
Without going into specifics, it is equally difficult, or nearly impossible, to describe Welcome to Night Vale to people who have not listened to it. The best way I can describe its clever storytelling is in the same vein as Garrison Keillor’s long-running “News from Lake Wobegon” only in the soothingly sinister community of Night Vale. It is a “radio-drama” in every sense of the word, in that characters and places are instrumental to fleshing out the goings-on of the community.
The town of Night Vale is illuminated by the relaxing voice of Cecil Palmer, the local radio host. And while everything appears to be normal to him in the radio station, events are decidedly not normal to listeners. Eerie events and non-corporeal beings plague the town, but all the while there is a peaceful nature to the town. Even with all of the confounding and dangerous developments that take place, it is difficult to listen to each episode and not feel compelled to live there. That is the charm of the show.
A show like Welcome to Night Vale is successful for the reasons outlined above. It is unique and fresh, and constantly building on the established history of the town. Credit to the show’s creators, Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor, for developing such an enjoyable and successful program. And it certainly is successful. Each episode is downloaded thousands of times. A novel is expected this upcoming fall. The team has added a live show which sells out as quickly as Justin Timberlake. I’ve been fortunate to see them live twice, and the fanbase is so positive that it is a treat to be a part of such a devoted group of people. There are many inside jokes that build from episode to episode. A new fantastic song is featured each time in an intriguing way. Numerous well-known guest stars, such as Mara Wilson and Wil Wheaton, have made voice appearances. All of this has contributed to its rise and success.
It is innovative in the fact that there is hardly anything like it. It is released bi-monthly, so the two weeks is plenty of time between episodes to get excited about what is to come. There have been some great story arcs where it becomes a trial to have to wait so long for the next installment. I have been up many nights at midnight, refreshing until the new episode came available. It is a fairly small time commitment (half an hour, twice a month) so anyone can really give it a try to see what all the hype is about. Please set aside some time to listen to it. (Some advice: It’s best at night.) Each episode closes with a proverb, and so I end with my own recommendation: Enjoy yourself… but never too much. And stay out of the dog park.
To understand this show, first, you must understand podcasts, and they are difficult to understand unless you are already hooked on them. They truly can be sort of addicting. Beginning in the mid-2000s, the easiest way to understand them is as an on-demand form of information and entertainment. I’m sure most of you have heard of the captivating drama, Serial, which enthralled millions each week and has left listeners eagerly anticipating a second season. Ultra-trendy, these downloadable audio files are a viable replacement to talk radio. In fact, many shows on National Public Radio are already found on-demand in the podcast form. They are easy to make, inexpensive to share, and (usually) free of cost to access.
Because basically anyone can make one with cheap software and tools, they can be found on an incredible range of topics, sports, news, science, comedy, anything that interests you. Podcasts can be incredibly informative, or they can be a regular form of entertainment. I think committing to a podcast is one of the best ways to learn about a subject that you wanted to get into. And some of them, I look forward to as much as I do a weekly comic book or TV show. There are so many of them, though, that it is sometimes difficult to choose which ones are the best and to dedicate so much time to these shows.
Without going into specifics, it is equally difficult, or nearly impossible, to describe Welcome to Night Vale to people who have not listened to it. The best way I can describe its clever storytelling is in the same vein as Garrison Keillor’s long-running “News from Lake Wobegon” only in the soothingly sinister community of Night Vale. It is a “radio-drama” in every sense of the word, in that characters and places are instrumental to fleshing out the goings-on of the community.
The town of Night Vale is illuminated by the relaxing voice of Cecil Palmer, the local radio host. And while everything appears to be normal to him in the radio station, events are decidedly not normal to listeners. Eerie events and non-corporeal beings plague the town, but all the while there is a peaceful nature to the town. Even with all of the confounding and dangerous developments that take place, it is difficult to listen to each episode and not feel compelled to live there. That is the charm of the show.
A show like Welcome to Night Vale is successful for the reasons outlined above. It is unique and fresh, and constantly building on the established history of the town. Credit to the show’s creators, Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor, for developing such an enjoyable and successful program. And it certainly is successful. Each episode is downloaded thousands of times. A novel is expected this upcoming fall. The team has added a live show which sells out as quickly as Justin Timberlake. I’ve been fortunate to see them live twice, and the fanbase is so positive that it is a treat to be a part of such a devoted group of people. There are many inside jokes that build from episode to episode. A new fantastic song is featured each time in an intriguing way. Numerous well-known guest stars, such as Mara Wilson and Wil Wheaton, have made voice appearances. All of this has contributed to its rise and success.
It is innovative in the fact that there is hardly anything like it. It is released bi-monthly, so the two weeks is plenty of time between episodes to get excited about what is to come. There have been some great story arcs where it becomes a trial to have to wait so long for the next installment. I have been up many nights at midnight, refreshing until the new episode came available. It is a fairly small time commitment (half an hour, twice a month) so anyone can really give it a try to see what all the hype is about. Please set aside some time to listen to it. (Some advice: It’s best at night.) Each episode closes with a proverb, and so I end with my own recommendation: Enjoy yourself… but never too much. And stay out of the dog park.
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