music is about identity, not pleasure

When it comes to improving our purchases of music, we must grapple with the Love of the New. Most people buy only very recent music, rather than mining history for the very best music of the entire past. Niche fans—such as in classical music—tend to focus on recently released or rereleased recordings, even when the composition is old. Like everyone else, they are excited by the new arrivals in the marketplace. Some people really do just want Verdi and Mozart, but this is part of the reason why classical music is well under 5 percent of the market in recorded music releases.

Every now and then rereleases make a big splash. The Beatles' catalog was rereleased circa 1976, and many of the songs were hit singles again. But such successes are the exception and not the rule. Buddy Holly's "Every Day" was one of the most charming songs of the

early 1960s. James Brown's "Bewildered" was some of the most powerful two minutes of music of the twentieth century. Both are accessible and easy to appreciate. Yet there is no push to rerelease either song on a widespread basis to compete for hit status. There are plenty of rereleases, including recordings by these artists, but they are targeted for sale to a relatively small number of aging baby boomers or collectors. No one tries to make these songs major hits again.

Presumably music company executives do not think that either song would bring in much additional money. The profits would not be worth the marketing expenditure.

Most of the music in the United States is bought by people under thirty years of age. I can assure you that most of these people do not already own these songs. Most older music is simply not on their radar screens. But why not? Buddy Holly and James Brown are great. Okay, some of you may be thinking that Tyler is an old fogey. Maybe Buddy Holly and James Brown are, on reflection, totally "lame." That is a matter of taste. But there isn't much music being rereleased—with an aim toward hit status—from 1969 either. Nor from 1970. Nor from 1980. Nor 1990. Get the picture? The phenomenon goes well beyond the possible defects of my favorite older songs. It can't all stink. Buyers want the new. Why? I look to the Me Factor. Music is about identity. It is also about a differential identity. The problem with old music is simple. Somebody else already liked it. Even worse, that somebody else might have been one's parents. Or grandparents. I believe that Grandpa's fanship is less offensive than that of the parents, but it is hardly cause for youthful cheer.

In many cultural markets—most of all in music—many of the buyers seek artistic secession. That means liking something new, or at least liking something that will appear new to one's peers. This secession does not occur every year. If Nirvana reaches peak popularity in 1994, people who start listening to "cool music" in 1995 need not reject Nirvana. Nirvana is associated with the school class one year ahead and of course with slightly older siblings. While youthful feelings toward the slightly older are decidedly mixed, there is a strong element of emulation and some degree of toleration. The two groups simply are not that different. Nirvana can remain cool one year (or more) past their peak popularity.

But as the years accumulate, Nirvana loses acceptable status. For the class of 2004, Nirvana was loved by the twenty-seven-year-old guy just finishing his MBA. Or perhaps they are loved by "the loser pumping gas," or by "the guy who runs the produce department." How cool is that? Suspicions set in. At some point Nirvana is no longer a good means of establishing one's identity. Many current fans of indie rock like Nirvana as an ancillary interest (after all, they did inspire later indie acts, such as The White Stripes), but few stake their identity on the group.

A few hipsters will invest their entire identities in the idea of "retro," such as wearing 1970s bell bottoms or listening to ABBA. But this is best thought of as rebellion against all other time periods, and a new and more radical form of difference, rather than wishing to take on the true vibes of the chosen retro attachment. Few of these people enjoy the TV shows or the cars from that same period, except as an occasional source of amusement.

For those who don't believe that music markets are largely about identity, how is it that musical tastes are so predictable? Take a girl who is twenty years old, grew up in suburban Connecticut, is Jewish, and majors in English at an Ivy League school. What is the chance I hat she is an avid partisan of heavy metal? Very small. Most likely her tastes run in the direction of "indie rock." She might also like classical music, especially if she grew up playing an instrument. She will cringe at the thought of country and western. Regaling her with the glories of Hank Williams, Sr., and early Johnny Cash will hardly make a dent in this armor.

- Tyler Cowen