It is becoming harder and harder to disappear.
The word ‘privacy’ has become a real buzz word over the last few years. Its meaning is no longer limited to realms of locked doors, whispered conversations and important documents stashed in filing cabinets. Our privacy is now inextricably mired in the baffling Terms and Conditions sections of algorithmic applications that are endlessly updating, learning and storing the parts of us that we offer up, willingly, on a daily basis. Where once our words and photos were limited to letters tucked away in drawers, albums on shelves and frames on mantlepieces, they now percolate in clouds and remain stuck, forever, in the aptly named Web. Even away from the internet and the looming figure of AI that’s coming to clone our voices and mannerisms, nearly everything we do now leaves traces – conversations, purchases we made, purchases we almost made, status updates, location check-ins, reviews, things we’ve searched for, things we’ve found – all fleeting, but all threads woven together to form a digital image of ourselves. Exposed and indelible.
These days, I often find myself struggling with the pressures of being made constantly accessible by social media and instant messaging. Social media is a viciously sharp double-edged sword. On the one hand, I have never felt more connected to friends and family around the world and I treasure the ease with which we can stay in touch and keep each other updated on our lives. On the other hand, I really struggle with the guilt of not replying to instant messages…instantly. As far as I see it, you wouldn’t barge into someone’s house while they’re going about their day and expect them to instantly engage in your conversation. And yet, my phone buzzes and I feel as though I have to drop what I’m doing and respond immediately, or risk offence. Words are so precious and I worry that some of my interactions with friends and family are cheapened by the pressure to reply quickly and succinctly, rather than taking the time to compose full responses, or picking up the phone and using tone and inflection to give more light and shade to your thoughts. When did so many of us stop picking up the phone, anyway? I’m from the last generation of kids who ran the gauntlet of calling school friends on their home phones and risked having to talk to their parents first. I suppose that’s something kids now don’t have to worry about.
As a musician, there is an added pressure of needing to stay present and relevant on social media, so as not to risk falling into obscurity or losing momentum. At least, that’s how we’re made to feel. I suppose once upon a time, a band could go into the studio, record an album and focus on touring, whilst their team headed up the PR campaigns. These days, we’re constant creators – not just of music, but of content designed to please the ever-elusive algorithms and keep our music reaching those who might be interested. Except no one ever seems to quite know how these algorithms work, and I for one never signed up to be a digital content creator, a videographer, a photographer and a diarist all in one. All I really want to do is write songs and get them to the ears of people who want to listen, but that seems to be increasingly convoluted, and dictated less by humans and more by lines of coding. I do worry what this means in the long-term, and how sustainable it all is. It’s also why I am so grateful for radio, music magazines and music blogs. Produced and written by people, still reliably reaching a targeted audience of people who might be interested in the songs they’ve curated. They’re still powerful and they’re still making a difference to musicians like me, in a world otherwise dominated by AI curated playlists and feeds.
That being said, I can’t ignore the positive roles these means of instant connection and communication play in my field of work. How wonderful it is to sit with my guitar, pen a song, and then instantly be able to send a clip to my producer, or share a video on Instagram. How wonderful it is to be able to promote my music and my shows to a global audience with one quick tap, and stay in touch so easily with lovely people I meet around the country. It has allowed me to form a digital network of fans, friends and fellow musicians, and the latter especially has been crucial in providing support and solidarity in this landscape we find ourselves working in – a game where the rules keep changing. In many ways, it’s never been easier to get your music out there. I suppose the difficulties arise with getting it heard. How do you cut through so much noise? And most importantly, how do you do it without getting caught up in the web? How do you maintain some privacy and avoid burn out?
This post is just an outlet for my own thoughts and isn’t intended to provide any answers for those questions – I’m still trying to figuring it all out for myself. Besides, I think everyone has their own approach to social media and online presence, and their own set of boundaries and limitations. For me, it’s all about striking that balance between being present and feeding the algorithms just enough to keep my music reaching the people I know want to hear it, whist trying to stay authentic to myself, and to my interests. It’s definitely forced me to be more creative and more active in terms of how I promote what I do, and maybe that’s a good thing? To be kept on my toes a little? However, I would hate to ever be in a position where I am sharing things I don’t want to share, or following trends I don’t really feel comfortable with or connected to, just to try and stay floating to the top of newsfeeds. There’s certain parts of my life, such as my romantic life, I have chosen to keep private, and I feel very grateful for that. That’s not to say I’d look down on those who do share those sorts of things, and I am quite sure there are things I share that others might not, it’s a personal choice after all. But it’s worth remembering that what we see and here on these apps is cherry picked. Not everything we see online is real, and not everything real is found online. I’ve learnt that I can’t write lots of new songs when I’m spending too much time on my phone and my computer. That little box in my brain only seems to be able to be unlocked when I’m out exploring and experiencing and loving in real life, away from all the noise online. I still think it’s very hard to truly disappear these days, and I’m not sure I want to disappear completely anyway. For now, I’ll settle for stepping back and switching off from time to time, focus inwards, phone more friends, write more letters…
…and perhaps more songs.