Disclosure: I was sent a review copy of The Long Tail by the author after responding to a request on his blog for reviewers.

I wrote a few times on The Long Tail when Chris Anderson’s original article began its journey to being one of the most talked about concepts in the blogosphere. In the months that have followed, the phrase has become part of everyday language and the buzzphrase to drop when talking about media consumption.

If you haven’t read the article, I’d suggest you do so now at Wired’s website. Put simply, the argument is that while traditional shops have limited shelf space and so have to limit their stock to guaranteed ‘hits,’ online retailers such as Amazon, iTunes, and others have unlimited shelf space and are beginning to see more and more revenue come from less popular products. When storage space is not a factor, being able to stock one hundred albums, each of which will sell fifteen copies is considerably more attractive than selling 100 each of 10 albums. As those numbers increase, so does the potential gain to both consumer and retailer.

The ideas presented in the article were attractive on many levels. For those of us whose media tastes have never sat squarely in the mainstream there’s a sense of vindication in Anderson’s thesis that going forward ‘hits’ are going to be less important, and comfort in the idea that new metrics will allow more independent artists to enjoy some measure of success, and that the unlimited shelf space of the virtual world will make it ever easier to explore back catalogues. While some of the statistics have been overstated in subsequent discussion, the figures do seem to suggest that key revenue sources for big online retailers are increasingly in their vast stock of lower selling products.

The attractiveness of the ideas does not, however, prevent me from having several concerns about the patterns that this trend is part of or of the way the information is presented. As Bruno Giussani covered quite effectively in his review of the book, one clear concern is that Anderson’s focus is very US-centric (or at best US-and-Western-Europe-centric) and that while the vast majority of his evidence is concerned with the media industry he doesn’t seem to fully address that restriction, implying that the trends apply outside of that market.

Similarly, much has been made in recent years of (in Douglas Coupland’s words) “choice paralysis” and the difficulties that arise from an overabundance of choice. Barry Schwartz’s book “The Paradox of Choice” was a major contribution to that debate, and as Anderson is talking about a market where there are literally millions of options open to us, choice management is an important question.

Anderson is clearly not convinced by Schwartz’ work, commenting:

I’m skeptical. The alternative to letting people choose is choosing for them. The lessons of a century of retail science (along with the history of Soviet department stores) are that this is not what most consumers want.

and appropriately citing Schwartz’s comment that:

A small-town resident who visits Manhattan is overwhelmed by all that is going on. A New Yorker thoroughly adapted to the city’s hyperstimulation, is oblivious to it.

Not having read Schwartz’s book, I want merely to note an interview I heard with Schwartz around the time of his book’s release. In the interview, he took his argument out of the arena of media consumption and into public policy where he argued that when it comes down to the decision between allowing patients the option of lots of hospitals, or ensuring a high quality of service in a single hospital, governments in Europe have been moving towards the former when patients are generally more satisfied by the latter. Such an argument is probably tangential to Anderson’s book since The Long Tail doesn’t directly engage with public policy at any point (other than by inference, such as in his argument for trusting the market) but should be taken into consideration when considering the appropriate scope of Anderson’s theory.

Beyond potential over-reach, however, there is a deeper concern that connects with the dangers of unfettered globalisation and with how we understand the formation and sustenance of community. In particular, Anderson comes across as very much a free-market thinker, arguing in Rule 8 of his “Long Tail Rules” (a chapter that provides clear evidence that the book is targeted at businesspeople) that people seeking to tap into the potential of ‘the long tail’ should “Let the market do your job.” While markets do work for the common good in certain areas, I have never been convinced that they are sufficient in themselves to sustain and advance the arts. While there must be a measure of public engagement with any art, a consumer culture is necessarily short-termist and doesn’t automatically provide for the development of artists or their work.

Informed patronage, or foundation or government subsidy can provide space for an artist to develop their work at a pace shielded from an instant gratification culture. While The Long Tail does talk about changes in consumption patterns, there is little in the book to indicate that that will be joined by a significant change in the nature of consumption such that long-term endeavours can be solely be supported by the market.

It may be, however, that The Long Tail can shed light on more open forms of patronage. As the oft-referenced Howard Dean US presidential campaign in 2004 demonstrated, large amounts of financing needn’t come entirely from wealthy benefactors but could instead be gathered from a ‘long tail’ where the wealthy give the principal donations but a significant proportion is gathered from smaller donations.

Moving to more general matters, there is little sense of the importance of local economies in this book, and at times it comes close to militating against them as it refers in glowing terms to the increase of choice offered first by department stores and now by online retailers. While Anderson is clearly not discussing core issues such as food, power, and so on, and the purest examples of the long tail are those that arguably have minimal environmental impact as they are purely digital creations, we must be very careful to interrogate any balance we make between depth and range of choice and the importance of locality. If we are to have a long-lasting positive social impact we need to be in touch with the rest of the world and to have some news choices forced upon us. In our day-to-day lives it is by being physically alongside people that we can begin to understand the reality of their situation and be reminded not to disenfranchise them. These ideal Long Tail systems, all so automated, could easily lack transparency.

And that automation could potentially present another cause for concern. While there’s considerable discussion of the ‘democratisation’ of tools for creation (witness the huge number of amateur video makers using youtube, or the ease of laying down some tracks with software like GarageBand), there’s little discussion of the democratisation of the aggregators, the vital tools that help us sort and sift through the huge catalogues of media now available to us. Present trends suggest that while successful aggregators are somewhat participatory (amazon’s reviews and ratings, google’s use of links between pages, etc) the core algorithms driving them are trade secrets. As the volume of information to be managed increases it becomes harder for new players to enter the game, potentially leading to a situation where we have not democratised choice but have simply replaced one set of taste-makers with another.

As the huge number of sales and volume of debate have shown, Anderson’s book has tapped into a very real phenomenon, and one that people are deeply interested in. He provides a detailed examination of many relevant issues, but the end result is a book that will tick many business boxes but does not do all it could to engage with the very real social issues that arise from its topic, and by neglecting some of them offers tacit approval of some trends whose implications should trigger considerable debate.

Tags: the long tail, chris anderson, barry schwartz, media consumption, retail science, local economies

To pick up a theme from the previous post, I was very interested to hear (probably via cityofsound) a few months back that Bloomsbury were working on a new series called The Writer and the City. In their words:

The Writer and the City is a series of beautifully produced, pocket-sized books featuring great authors writing about cities they know best.

Patrick McGrath’s Ghost Town is the first I’ve had a chance to read and it’s a great collection of three short stories set in New York City, moving from the tragedy of the War of Independence (when much of the city was burned to the ground), through the bustle of the city’s explosive growth as a financial center in the 19th century and on to the tale of a psychiatrist dealing with her own feelings about the destruction of the World Trade Center as she seeks to manage a patient’s situation.

The real power of the stories lies—as I’m sure was the intention when they were chosen for this series—in the tapestry they together weave, portraying the city in several stages of its development, telling tales of characters from different classes, living through markedly different situations, but all part of the history and the fabric of New York.

I met Andrew Beaujon briefly at the Festival of Faith and Music last year and have been looking forward to his book ever since, so I was very pleased when Kate emailed to say that “Body Piercing Saved My Life: Inside The Phenomenon of Christian Rock” was now available, and even more pleased when the first shop I tried had several copies in stock.

The book is the result of a year-long exploration of ‘Christian rock’ that Beaujon (senior contributing writer at Spin, contributor to the Washington Post, the Washington City Paper, the Guardian and Salon.com) undertook last year. He openly acknowledges that amongst his colleagues in the industry there is a rather snide or dismissive attitude towards artists who are identified as Christians, and that for himself “I consider atheism too much of a commitment.” That context makes the sympathetic and insightful tone of the book quite remarkable.

Beaujon runs the gamut of Christian rock and CCM, going back to the phenomenon’s roots in the Jesus People movement of the late 60s/early 70s, through the rise of CCM as an industry, and onto the current day where he visited both GMA Week and Calvin’s Festival, interviewed a wide range of bands, and spent quite a bit of time with David Bazan. Along the way he does much to analyze the psychologies that go along with involvement in the Christian music subculture, and does a good job of assessing its results.

There are a few errors of detail. I was particularly sensitive to some quotes taken from the Festival of Faith and Music, and it is disappointing that he didn’t feel he had the cultural language to engage with David Dark’s keynotes at that event. It would be interesting to hear whether that cultural language has been developed after further exposure to the background many in Dave’s audience were coming from.

I was particularly taken with Beaujon’s response to a ‘worship event’ he attended at GMA week where he noted the individualistic character of the lyrics used, and their failure to evoke the sense of community present in much older church music. Similarly the comments on the racial divide within CCM were right on the mark. But beyond that, the book conveyed powerfully the struggles for those artists who don’t want to entirely reject their Christian roots but want to engage seriously outside of that ghetto, and also the tension within the CCM community about the idea of ‘crossing over’.

The immediate excitement that usually greets anything resembling ‘crossover success’ (which often equates to minimal recognition in the mainstream) has always clashed with a rapid turnaround to accusations of ’selling out,’ but it was striking to read of publicists barring Beaujon from their press events at GMA week, and consistently failing to even respond to his requests for interviews.

Eighteen months ago, I wrote a piece entitled Why I might let myself care about CCM and I was reminded of that while reading through the reviews and interviews that have so far greeted the release of this book. (Beaujon is doing a great job of chronicling that on the book blog). With Christian bloc-voters holding so much power in modern America, it is vital that those outside of that world (and those of us on its periphery) attempt to step beyond articles in coastal magazines that treat middle America as a foreign country, towards understanding this bizarre cultural phenomenon on its own terms. This book is an important contribution to that attempt.

A review also posted at amazon.com of Eric Jacobsen’s Sidewalks In The Kingdom:

The urban sprawl that blights the USian landscape has had more impact than merely the growth of ugly landscapes. It has broken apart communities, led to less healthy lifestyles, and increased ghettoization. Jacobsen’s book sets out to introduce Christian groups into the new urbanist agenda, calling for walkable neighborhoods, more community-focussed building practices, and support of local business where real relationships can be borne. While this may well be a good primer, anyone who has read any other new urbanist material or who is looking for a thorough theological account may be disappointed.

Jacobsen sets up false dichotomies (community-building is apparently not a part of evangelism for him) and doesn’t dig into the environmental arguments which should be so central for Christians (and indeed, for anyone who cares about the future of the planet and its people). He also talks of how he believes he’s the only Christian member of the Congress for New Urbanism, but without recognising that perhaps he’s the only one who goes out of his way to advertise himself as such. It’s good to see Christians publicly engaging with the vital issues of urban planning, but it would be good to see more serious engagement with urban theology.

Skimming through my newsreader I’ve been coming across numerous reports of people mistakenly being sold copies of the latest Harry Potter book. In this story refers to one child returning the copy he was accidentally sold on Monday. Should we feel bad that amazon delivered ours earlier today and that we’ve already been indulging?

Tags: Harry Potter | Amazon

I contemplated reading Hertz’s book a few years ago but passed on it, fearing it would simply retread the same ground as so many others emerging in the wake of the “anti-globalisation” protests. In some ways, I was right, but coming to it four years after publication I found it a useful summary of many of the issues barely-fettered capitalism presents to society, and a fair-handed exploration of the strengths and weaknesses of the corporation-based society we find ourselves in.

Hertz is unabashedly a believer in capitalism, though (in the tradition of such eminent predecessors as Keynes) believes that it should be embedded in a stronger civil society/democratic framework than has been the case since the Thatcher-Reagan revolution. She details many of the ways major corporations (particularly media corporations, but also others from a wide variety of areas) have begun replacing many roles which were formerly those of government.

She points to numerous positive examples of the social contribution of corporations and of the wealthy individuals benefitting from them, but encourages the reader to reflect on the wisdom of ceding so much power to unelected bodies. While consumers retain some power due to the fact that they can set their spending priorities, the distribution of such power is uneven, disenfranchising the poor and favouring those who can shout loudest.

As Hertz clearly demonstrates, a new democratic framework will differ significantly from those of previous times, but if we are to ensure ongoing social support programs and care about long-term community development, democratic oversight is desparately needed. This is not an academic work (those looking for such from Hertz would be better off looking elsewhere) but it is a powerful summary of serious issues confronting global society.

(review submitted to amazon)

Tags: Noreena Hertz | The Silent Takeover | Capitalism | Globalization

One last post to wrap up the New York stories…

I had been to New York twice before. The first time I was seven years old, and while I remember loving the experience, the memories are rather hazy and it didn’t leave me with much of a sense of the city. The second time was so brief as to barely count: a cab ride between JFK and La Guardia en route to Nashville (and from there for my first visit to Grand Rapids).

This visit followed quickly in the wake of my reading Jane Jacobs’ fantastic “The Death and Life of Great American Cities.” It’s been a long time since a single book had such an impact on how I approach a topic (in this case, urban planning and the broad cross-section of life it touches upon); many of the insights were already familiar from other related work, but the scope, significance and completeness of Jacobs’ seminal work was quite astounding. And most of the examples in it are drawn from New York City.

Staying in Brooklyn was a treat (thanks Sara!) as it drew us out of Manhattan. Our time was spent in the Park Slope neighbourhood, which we both loved. It was dense and diverse, with more than enough within a few blocks’ radius to keep us occupied for quite some time had our schedule allowed (as it was we passed two pleasant mornings at The Tea Lounge (panoramic photo)). In balance, I probably preferred this area of Brooklyn to any one Manhattan neighbourhood. The pace was a touch slower and it felt more “real” — as if the residents’ were making a longer commitment to their community than in the more transient neighbouring borough.

But for someone who has found the slower approach to life much in evidence in Grand Rapids to be quite an adjustment after so many years in close proximity to London, the bustle of Manhattan was almost a salve. I’m not someone who heads for tourist attractions when I visit a city, heading instead for its coffee shops and movie theatres, and it was a shame not to have longer to indulge more in the latter. There’s a certain reassurance, though, in just knowing that so many options are within reach.

And naturally, the time with friends was good. Despite numerous emails and blog comments, I’d not met Sara in person before. I met another of Kari’s cousins (and his family) for the first time, and got to know another a little better. As well as seeing Susan play, we got to spend time with both her and Rachel Zylstra at the rather wacky Beauty Bar, which was great.

It’s easy to see why Jacobs was so attached to the density and diversity of her New York neighbourhoods when writing back in the 50s and 60s, and great to see that many of them retain some of that vibrancy (though that couldn’t really be said for the ridiculously gentrified Greenwich Village). Another personal highlight was visiting Bryant Park and seeing a stack of books laid out for visitors to read, tables reserved for games players, and the space overflowing with users. If this post by Dan Hill is anything to go by, London could learn a few lessons there.

With three more boroughs to explore, not to mention far more hanging out to do in these two, hopefully we’ll make it back soon, and perhaps this time we’ll remember the camera and/or have a cameraphone that takes decent pictures…

Tags: New York City | Park Slope