Yeah, well said, snilf. Thinking about the question from the other day about favorite rock concerts brings to mind how awful they can sound. But that's hardly the point, is it? Who goes to see a rock band perform live for the acoustic experience? It's a social thing. The crowd, the anticipation, the participation in a shared celebration of something you're all into; isn't that what matters most? That first Who show I saw did sound fabulous to me, in part because the band was brilliant. Tight. Entwistle one of the greatest bass players ever. But it was also the thrill of seeing them walk onto the stage, and seeing strangers as excited as I was, and screaming at the top of our lungs.
But the Joshua Tree shows sounded horrible. Couldn't even discern that "In God's Country" was being played till Bono began singing. Everything was buried under shrill amplification. So what, though? The ethos was the thing, the camaraderie. Singing every song together with 17,000 other people, and ending with "40." Does it even matter whether it "sounds good"? Snilf's point about memory is again on point here.
For me, listening to music in the living room is mostly a solitary pleasure. That gives me a measure of control over the acoustics that is lacking in a concert hall. I actually enjoy the music much more this way, and I'm unwilling to accept that I'm missing something crucial to the experience, because it's a very different kind of thing, sui generis. I like how a few respondents have emphasized the artistry involved in recorded music. This is, I think, hardly a secondary form of art, but essential to our engagement, and, even if only a little bit, we get to help the creative process. Choosing this-or-that amp, speakers, or to toe in or not to toe in. Where do I sit, how far away from the speakers? All of that contributes to the visceral pleasures of home listening, and none of it is meant to be pure reproduction.
But the Joshua Tree shows sounded horrible. Couldn't even discern that "In God's Country" was being played till Bono began singing. Everything was buried under shrill amplification. So what, though? The ethos was the thing, the camaraderie. Singing every song together with 17,000 other people, and ending with "40." Does it even matter whether it "sounds good"? Snilf's point about memory is again on point here.
For me, listening to music in the living room is mostly a solitary pleasure. That gives me a measure of control over the acoustics that is lacking in a concert hall. I actually enjoy the music much more this way, and I'm unwilling to accept that I'm missing something crucial to the experience, because it's a very different kind of thing, sui generis. I like how a few respondents have emphasized the artistry involved in recorded music. This is, I think, hardly a secondary form of art, but essential to our engagement, and, even if only a little bit, we get to help the creative process. Choosing this-or-that amp, speakers, or to toe in or not to toe in. Where do I sit, how far away from the speakers? All of that contributes to the visceral pleasures of home listening, and none of it is meant to be pure reproduction.