This unique anthology assembles primary documents chronicling the development of the phonograph, film sound, and the radio. These three sound technologies shaped Americans' relation to music from the late nineteenth century until the end of the Second World War, by which time the technologies were thoroughly integrated into everyday life. There are more than 120 selections between the collection's first piece, an article on the phonograph written by Thomas Edison in 1878, and its last, a column advising listeners "desirous of gaining more from music as presented by the radio." Among the selections are articles from popular and trade publications, advertisements, fan letters, corporate records, fiction, and sheet music. Taken together, the selections capture how the new sound technologies were shaped by developments such as urbanization, the increasing value placed on leisure time, and the rise of the advertising industry. Most importantly, they depict the ways that the new sound technologies were received by real people in particular places and moments in time.
This is a fun read for those interested in the early technology applied to the development of the phonograph, "motion picture" and radio. It is a compendium of articles written at the time of the developments. Read first hand Thomas Alva Edison's curmudgeonly reluctant acknowledgement that recorded music would be more important than dictated letters! You can almost hear John Philip Sousa's fear that future generations will abandon music lessons because they'll be able to listen to others playing it. (With all due respect, Sousa was the first professional composer to influence a copyright law that protected musicians and composers rights). As with any new technology, there are missteps. This book chronicles some fascinating ideas that were ahead of their time. A development I was not aware of is the "song slide", an early 20th Century process borne of vaudeville where picture slides are displayed on stage to accompany singers. I've never been one to wish I could go back in time to live in more innocent days because I'd be concerned about general social hygenic mores:). However, I'd love to have seen a theater show with song slides. Perhaps it led to the development of "follow the bouncing ball" cartoons. Another treat of the book are the "letters to the editors" from teachers, theater enthusiasts and the like.
An enjoyable and often funny collection of op-eds, letters, and advertisements. While reading, I kept flashing back to a trip to Seattle in 1999 when the billboards for soon-to-vanish dot coms were crowding out the Space Needle. But among all the kooky and doomed ideas--keep your guests entranced with recorded lecture libraries!-- were some truly great ones. My favorite was the Illustrated Song Machine, a predecessor to the music video, used in nickelodeons and vaudeville acts, and a little subscription service in Delaware that was already pumping music into people's homes via telephone lines in 1909. Edward Bellamy would have been proud.
“Measuring the cultural importance and metaphysical weirdness of that change is part of the project of Music, Sound, and Technology in America, an anthology of fascinating artifacts whose prosaic title belies its insights into the early years of the recorded-sound era. . . . [T]he editors of Music, Sound, and Technology in America exhibit a canny ear for the electrifying echoes between then and now.”--Andy Battaglia, Wall Street Journal
This is an excellent book full of primary resources which discuss the impact that recording sounds had on society. I may come back to this if I am ever going to focus specifically on this period again. I only passed through it to get a better sense of the phonograph.
Recorded sound has been so routine, for so long, that we forget it was once a brand-new technology, as disruptive of existing social and cultural norms as today’s digital devices, and as sharply contested. We have trouble imagining, even imperfectly, a time when its potential had not yet been fully explored, and its unintended side effects had not yet been fully manifested. We forget that the social, cultural, and artistic conventions governing the use of recorded sound are conventions, negotiated over time, and that there was once a time when they were fluid and unformed. Music, Sound, and Technology in America: A Documentary History of Early Phonograph, Cinema, and Radio masterfully recreates that lost world, collecting a wealth of primary source material—some famous, most long-forgotten—that reveals how the generation(s) that witnessed the advent of recorded sound responded to it. It immerses the reader in a time when the tools named in its subtitle represented the cutting edge of modern technology, and their impact on everyday life in America was up for grabs.
The subtitle defines the book’s scope and structure: It is divided into three parts, each curated by one of the three editors and each dealing with one of three key recorded-sound technologies—phonograph, radio, and motion pictures. Each part begins with a substantial introduction in which its editor sets the historical context, provides necessary technological background, and frames the key themes that will structure the section. Each part then presents approximately forty documents, organized into sections (and sometimes subsections) that group them around particular themes relevant to the particular technology at hand. This is a historical sourcebook of exceptional quality. Its diversity of sources, generously sized excerpts, crystal-clear organization, and thoughtful editorial commentary make it valuable (and fascinating) reading for anyone with a serious interest in recorded sound.