Once upon a time there was a group of guys who worked for the same company. They all liked music, loved it, all different kinds and flavours. One day, over a beer, they came up with the idea for the Music Club. The plan was that each of them, in turn, would punt round a CD of what they'd been listening to for the others to enjoy.
All concerned thought this was a lovely super smashing idea, and they all set about making compilations of what they'd been listening to. Witty names were thought up, covers were laboured over, record collections were plundered. Soon enough a raft of CDs were meandering through the internal post, arriving on people's desks, sometimes battered by the journey.
Sadly though, the wheels soon started to come off this charming enterprise; CDs went missing in the internal post, or remained static on certain member's desks. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, the reaction the compilations could cause when listened to often incurred the umbrage of their creators.
It's a given that no-one likes their taste insulted, or even questioned, and a flurry of emails usually followed. No-one had time to read the spam; people soon got bored of their inboxes filling up with more than the usual rubbish. Coupled to that was the increasing obscurity of the compilations (I've got to put my hand up on that one) and the speed at which they were appearing.
Like a badly run brewery tour, the Music Club soon collapsed. No tears were shed, and it had a good send-off. It was a good idea though. And good ideas often need a second (or third) chance in order to work. And we'd learnt from our mistakes, so we'd not repeat them.
So, after a goodly time, the idea was raised again. This time though, there'd be rules. And regulations. No more would CDs linger long on desks unlistened, or disappear on their journey, or arrive all at once. Most of all, there would be no spam and no "spitting of the dummy" when people passed comment. Thus the Son of Music Club was born.
Now, you may wonder why we don't have a proper MP3 blog, or some such. That'd ruin the mystery (and we're lazy). We don't know what's on the CDs when they land on our desks, hence we (ahem) 'listen without prejudice' (for the first few bars anyway). Will this grand enterprise succeed? Who knows. Will we end up buying more music anyway? Most definitely.
All concerned thought this was a lovely super smashing idea, and they all set about making compilations of what they'd been listening to. Witty names were thought up, covers were laboured over, record collections were plundered. Soon enough a raft of CDs were meandering through the internal post, arriving on people's desks, sometimes battered by the journey.
Sadly though, the wheels soon started to come off this charming enterprise; CDs went missing in the internal post, or remained static on certain member's desks. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, the reaction the compilations could cause when listened to often incurred the umbrage of their creators.
It's a given that no-one likes their taste insulted, or even questioned, and a flurry of emails usually followed. No-one had time to read the spam; people soon got bored of their inboxes filling up with more than the usual rubbish. Coupled to that was the increasing obscurity of the compilations (I've got to put my hand up on that one) and the speed at which they were appearing.
Like a badly run brewery tour, the Music Club soon collapsed. No tears were shed, and it had a good send-off. It was a good idea though. And good ideas often need a second (or third) chance in order to work. And we'd learnt from our mistakes, so we'd not repeat them.
So, after a goodly time, the idea was raised again. This time though, there'd be rules. And regulations. No more would CDs linger long on desks unlistened, or disappear on their journey, or arrive all at once. Most of all, there would be no spam and no "spitting of the dummy" when people passed comment. Thus the Son of Music Club was born.
Now, you may wonder why we don't have a proper MP3 blog, or some such. That'd ruin the mystery (and we're lazy). We don't know what's on the CDs when they land on our desks, hence we (ahem) 'listen without prejudice' (for the first few bars anyway). Will this grand enterprise succeed? Who knows. Will we end up buying more music anyway? Most definitely.