A Lament for the Lost Art of Taste-Making
In a world where the gentle hum of dial-up once promised an escape to a new frontier, we've traded the wild, uncharted territories of the early internet for the algorithmically manicured lawns of today's social media platforms. As a child of the '70s who came of age amidst the grunge era's raw authenticity, hip-hop’s golden era and the DIY ethos of the '90s zine culture, I can't help but feel a pang of loss for the true tastemakers and the originality that once defined our cultural landscape.
Back in the day, discovering a new band, artist, or even a style wasn't just about stumbling upon something new; it was about the thrill of exploration, guided by the eclectic tastes of DJs, indie magazine editors, and those cool, outlier friends. These were the true tastemakers, individuals whose recommendations felt like secret handshakes into underground clubs where the currency was originality and authenticity.
Fast forward to the present, and the view is strikingly different. The vast expanse of the internet, once a playground for discovery, now feels like a well-trodden path, with social media algorithms acting as both gatekeepers and guides. These algorithms, designed to cater to our likes and preferences, have created echo chambers that amplify the familiar while muffling the unique voices that struggle to break through the noise.
Don't get me wrong; the democratization of content creation brought about by platforms like YouTube, Instagram, and TikTok has its merits. It's inspiring to see people from all corners of the globe share their art, their thoughts, and their lives with the world. This accessibility is something we could only dream about in the '90s. Yet, in this democratized landscape, the role of the tastemaker is diluted, replaced by a reliance on what's trending, what's viral, and what the algorithm deems worthy of our attention.
This shift towards algorithmic curation has had a homogenizing effect on culture and tastes. In their quest to maximize engagement, these algorithms promote content that has a broad appeal, sidelining niche interests and innovative expressions that don't fit the mould. The result? A cultural feedback loop that rewards conformity and recycles trends, leaving little room for the groundbreaking and the avant-garde.
There's a certain irony in realizing that in our effort to connect with the world, we've ended up in a space where the appeal of mass approval overshadows diversity of thought and creativity. The collective roar of the most popular has drowned the unique, eclectic voices that once guided culture, leaving us to navigate a sea of sameness.
Yet, despite this lament, I hold on to a flicker of hope. Just as the underground scenes of the '90s thrived in the margins, today's digital realms are vast and deep enough for pockets of originality and true taste-making to exist and even flourish. Independent platforms, newsletters, niche forums, and dedicated communities continue to uphold the cause of diversity and innovation in culture.
As we move forward, perhaps the challenge lies in our ability to seek out these spaces, to look beyond the algorithmically curated feeds and rediscover the joy of exploration. It's about finding balance—embracing the benefits of connectivity and accessibility while nurturing the spaces that celebrate the unconventional and the original.
Ultimately, losing traditional tastemakers and the originality they championed is a poignant reminder of what's at stake in our digitized world. Yet, it's also a call to action—a plea to support and elevate voices that dare to defy the algorithmic norm, assuring that the rich tapestry of our culture continues to evolve in vibrant and unexpected ways. After all, the true essence of discovery lies not in what the machines serve us but in what we seek, in the corners of the world where the spirit of the '90s—the spirit of originality and authenticity—still whispers for those willing to listen.
