The story begins with me driving alongside an acquaintance and his iPod. I recognize the song heí¢â‚¬â„¢s playing. Ití¢â‚¬â„¢s something off the new Besnard Lakes album, The Dark Horse; the specific track, I forget. I make some off-the-cuff comment about how I too appreciate the Montreal band, and heí¢â‚¬â„¢s excited to talk about them. í‚  Eventually, the conversation turns to the recordí¢â‚¬â„¢s artwork, which is a reproduction of an old oil painting featuring a black horse wrapped in flames. Ití¢â‚¬â„¢s a striking imageí¢â‚¬”the type that would look damn good hanging on your wall. But here is where the conversation turns sour. He says, í¢â‚¬Å“Yeah, I liked the cover art so much I bought the album on iTunes.í¢â‚¬  í‚  What? I think. He appreciates the artwork so he paid for a tiny, pixilated image file? Is this the way people roll nowadays? I just completely failed to see how a guy who dug the cover so much wouldní¢â‚¬â„¢t want the vinyl or, at the very least, the CD. And the whole experience got me thinking: maybe Ií¢â‚¬â„¢m the strange one; maybe Ií¢â‚¬â„¢m the one whoí¢â‚¬â„¢s messed. Then I thought, screw that. Ií¢â‚¬â„¢m getting a whole lot more with my traditionalist cover art than the type his iPod can provide. í‚  First off, Ií¢â‚¬â„¢m securing an artifact and, at times, a pretty sweet-lookiní¢â‚¬â„¢ one with my LP or CD. Heí¢â‚¬â„¢s not. I like the 12-inch sleeves at my sides. I like sitting below my tower of CDs. And I like the rotating cast of colourful characters and images that fills my apartment. Ití¢â‚¬â„¢s always changing, and it always feels good to have someone like Marc Bolan or those weird dudes from the Sparks around to visit. I just caní¢â‚¬â„¢t imagine trading these objects/decorations for an intangible JPEG or a GIF or whatever it is.í‚  Also, what about the inside content of the liner notes? His downloaded image doesní¢â‚¬â„¢t comes with a neatly packaged book of photos, band info and, most importantly, lyrics. I remember how much of my adolescence was spent pouring over song lyrics as an album resonated. And for better or worse, a whole generation of kids is going to grow up without this diversion, which I find sad. The activity always seemed to take me closer to the music, and Ií¢â‚¬â„¢m sure it did for a lot of other self-conscious, pimple-ridden teens as well. í‚  Plus, iTunes definitely does not provide posters or such added goodness often included with physical formats. The last I checked, when you download Jim Oí¢â‚¬â„¢Roukeí¢â‚¬â„¢s Eureka, it doesní¢â‚¬â„¢t come with a large slab of paper featuring a chubby, naked kid totting nunchucks. Or when you download Chad VanGaalení¢â‚¬â„¢s Skelliconnection, iTunes doesní¢â‚¬â„¢t provide an LP worth of bonus material like the vinyl version does. í‚  And back to The Besnard Lakes, if my acquaintance values the artwork so much, why couldní¢â‚¬â„¢t he just pay a bit more for the real deal. The Besnard Lakes album goes for $7.92 on iTunes, and he can get it on CD or LP for $11 on the bandí¢â‚¬â„¢s website. If he then wants it on his iPod, he can simply rip the sucker or download it guilt free from Soulseek or some other free music provider. í‚  Artwork has always been an intricate part of music, setting the tone before you even hear a note. Ití¢â‚¬â„¢s meant to be something to enjoy and contemplate, not squint at. By reducing it to teeny image on an iPod, we are losing a lot. And I doní¢â‚¬â„¢t know about you, but I want more for my music, not less.í‚  í‚  

Brock Thiessení‚  í‚  í‚  í‚  í‚