I came across this article about mix tapes on Salon.com:
Lost in the mix
In a new book, Sonic Youth frontman Thurston Moore and his hipster pals lament the demise of the mix tape in the age of the iPod.
In retrospect, the era of the mix tape -- which began not long after Philips unveiled the audiocassette in 1963, crescendoed throughout the '80s and probably peaked in the early '90s -- looks like a vast, unintentional folk art movement. Nearly every music-loving teenager in the country participated. Think of it this way: If every kid who spent a Saturday afternoon making a mix tape over the past 25 years had instead spent that time painting, sculpting or writing poetry, the '80s and '90s would be known as a period of unbridled renaissance in American outsider art. Now that era is over, the hours of tape-deck labor replaced by the drop-and-click production of the iPod playlist.
I think anyone who loves music and came of age in the late 80s and early 90s should be able to relate to this idea. I would guess that most of the mix tapes were those I made for myself, something that Nick Hornby lovingly talks about in his book 31 Songs. However, I certainly made some for girls, friends, and family members (an unsuccessful attempt to get my younger sister into indie rock). I also received my share from friends-I always hoping to be turned on by a new band or song. Some of my roomates were obsessive about their mix tapes. This is a good description of my friend Gaje, who used to make mix tapes every year and give them out as Christmas presents (however, I have been guilty of attempted brainwashing as well):
For rock snobs like the fictional Rob Gordon and record-store geeks everywhere, the mix tape has an additional purpose: to brainwash someone, to alter their musical taste. Like most people, I would imagine, I got my biggest share of these in college, when I had indie-rocker friends with enough spare time to make me grungy compilations of abrasive screamo, the covers scrawled with obscure, vulgar band names and bizarre symbols. I was brainwashed into an affection for Robyn Hitchcock by an indoctrination tape that my friends and I repeatedly stole from one another over the years, a tape I still have in my desk drawer.
He turned me onto to some cool music, but I can remember a paticular isntance where I just couldn't get past a song by an industrial noise band called Throbbing Gristle, so I probably only made it past that point of the tape once or twice to hear the other songs he recorded. I think my old roomate Mike probably had the taste closest to my own as far as music went; he also spent the most time making really cool hand designed cassette song list art. But I think every roomate I lived with during my Seattle days turned me onto to some band or at least a song or two.
I brought my boom box to my new office and I still have some cassettes that I listen to there (also some MDs"mini disks"-an interlude before I joined the MP3 crowd). So when I left Seattle in 1997 we were still making mix tapes, I have a couple "bon voyage" tapes from my friend/former roomate Greg. My "punk rock" gal pal Michelle made me some tapes(and MDs), and left me her collection as well, when she went back to the states in 2001. The vast majority of my mix tapes are lost to the dustbin of history I suppose, since I left those with my friend Dave (who I believe admitted to dumping them-and I don't blame him), when I came to Japan.
So now I have to make due with song lists on my iPod adn iTunes. Reading this article brought back a lot of memories. Incidently, there's a great Japanese word-"natsukashii"-/which roughly translates to "nostalgia", but it's more like "this reminds me of the time when ...I was young and carefree and just getting into Yo La Tengo and Pavement"/, which captures the feeling I'm having remembering all the mix tapes of the past.
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