!"#$%6@'%()$%*+",$-%.%/$0$12$-%&3'%&455 I like to think we will one day be judged by the contents of the playlists we have compiled on our various digital devices. This sounds like justice to me, and certainly an appropriate way to keep tabs on whose lives are worthwhile or at least interesting in this digital age in which we have found ourselves. My favorite chapter in Walter Isaacson’s fascinating new biography of Steve Jobs is the thirtysecond one entitled Music Man: The Sound Track Of His Life. In it, Isaacson recounts a revealing afternoon he spent with Jobs listening to the playlists stored on his iPod (the interview was conducted before the introduction of the iPad). What he discovered was perhaps as revelatory as anything he found while doing research for his book. 8,-.,*'1'()#!/#(5%$($#(#O+#"*ence music, as well as movies and other media stuff. Isaacson quotes a passage from Rolling Stone editor Joe Levy’s book, The Perfect Thing, that illustrates this point: “Simply handing over your iPod to a friend, your blind date, or the total stranger sitting next to you on the phone opens you up like a book. All somebody needs to do is scroll through your library on that click wheel, and, musically speaking, you’re naked. It’s not just what you like - it’s who you are.” N/)($5-1()*)(\'--3'%/(!/)(%/( Jobs’ iPod? The usual suspects, as you might expect, were there: Aretha Franklin, Buddy Holly, Jefferson Airplane (more about that later), Hendrix, Johnny Cash, The Monkees, Coldplay, Talking Heads, The Doors, Eminem, and Sam The Sham And The Pharaohs (you get 10 points if you can guess which of their songs Jobs downloaded). The bulk of Jobs’ iPod memory was devoted to a few passions, most notably Bob Dylan, his idol and touchstone, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, U2, and, much to my and Isaacson’s surprise, the complete 1955 and 1981 recordings of Bach’s Goldberg Variations by the legendary pianist Glenn Gould. My playlist includes only a couple of Dylan songs (Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright and Gotta Serve Somebody), but I do have seven Beatles’ albums, about thirty Rolling Stones’ singles, and Gould’s Goldberg Variations (both versions). When it comes to the Gould’s 1955 and 1981 recordings of Bach’s variations, I agree with Jobs, who observes that “They’re ,*&#(/*451(-/)()-.;(B5#(!"'1(*'(-/(
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!$.A$%&2& exuberant, young, brilliant piece, played so fast it’s a revelation. The later one is much more spare and stark. You sense a very deep soul who’s been through a lot in life. It’s deeper and wiser.” Could be that Jobs was telling Isaacson as much about his own life
as he was about Gould’s interpretation of J.S. Bach. Before he turned to other subjects, Jobs shared two other items from his playlist: a slowed-down version of Both Sides Now recorded by Joni Mitchell in 2000 and Yo-Yo Ma’s rendition of 15#(!"'1(@%?#@#/1(2"%@(D-35C'(
unaccompanied cello suite. Ma was one of Jobs’ close friends and in the book he expresses his desire for the cellist to play at his funeral; this wish, of course, remained sadly :/2:,!,,#)($5#/(c%0'()*#)(/#-",.( three months ago. We should spend more time
getting to know the contents of our playlists. Job interviews, for example, should require that applicants bring their iPods or iPads to the interview. And political candidates should also be required to disclose their playlist selections. We know that George W. Bush’s playlist was !,,#)($*15(,%1'(%2(3%:/1".('#,#3tions, in addition to Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl and John Fogerty’s !"#$"%&"'() Joe Levy, as quoted by Isaacson, comments that “One thing that’s interesting is that the president likes artists who don’t like him.” Of course, the same thing could be said about any number of playlists. So, I guess we can agree that our playlists are important clues to who we are, even better than the outdated Rorschach and MyersBriggs tests. Needless to say, I believe standardized tests like the ACT, SAT, and GRE should include spaces where test-takers can list the contents of their playlists. What better way to determine intelligence and creativity (a quality that is certainly not measured by standardized testing)? We have long debated the meaning of life, and it could be that one answer lies in the content of our playlists. That music, or movies, can hold some of life’s most important secrets is a point made by the Coen Brothers in their witty and wise take on the Book of Job, A Serious Man (2009). In this movie, college professor Larry Gopnik learns that the meaning of life is not some esoteric mystery, but is instead found within the grooves of Surrealistic Pillow, Jefferson Airplane’s paean to 1967’s Summer of Love. I have this album in my playlist along with The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds, which is in my estimation the best album of the Sixties. And, of course, I have You Really Got Me by The Kinks - today’s choice for the best rock song of all time (a choice which changes daily, and could very well be replaced by Blues Traveler’s The Hook tomorrow). Here’s hoping you will take your playlists seriously during the coming year. And while you’re at it, don’t miss Jon Lord and The Hootchie Men’s incredible and inspiring version of Booker T. and The MGs Green Onions on YouTube. B5-1('5%:,)()#!/*1#,.(0#(-))#)(1%( your playlist. See you next week with some not-so-serious (or accurate) predictions for 2012.