Why Everything Old is New Again
High tech may have accelerated during the pandemic, but high
touch has become equally important.
BY HOWARD TULLMAN, GENERAL MANAGING PARTNER, G2T3V AND CHICAGO HIGH TECH INVESTORS@TULLMAN
We’re seeing an interesting resurgence in many different aspects
of our daily lives of what I think of as the appeal of physicality. On a macro
level, the primary concerns and the critical solutions for next decade or two -
whether we’re talking about climate changes, environmental issues, urban
congestion, or food insecurity - will have just as
significant a physical component as any software element. Software may have
eaten the world, but it won’t feed your family or fill a pothole or house the
homeless. Even a billion bits won’t build a new building.
We’re entering another cycle where manufacturing, material science, and simply
making things will assume a new primacy and economic importance.
On a micro level, we’ve all realized the reassuring importance
of the touch and feel of real goods, the smells and vibrations of machines and
instruments, and the physical gratification and release which comes from all
kinds of manual exercise, hard work, and serious sweat. The Who in Tommy were
clearly onto something begging: “See Me, Feel Me, Touch Me, Heal Me”. We’re
trying to get back in touch with ourselves. Any runner, any drummer, any
builder, or any baker can tell you their version of the solidity, warmth, and
authenticity embedded in these kinds of activities. There are emotional and
physical reasons for the return of vinyl records and old-fashioned amps.
Digital compression and portability were a short-sighted tradeoff for the
immersive power and penetrating depth of the “real” music, which used to pound
our heads and our hearts. After decades of the sterility of the digital world,
it’s comforting and downright healthy to make something with your own two hands
- whether art, music, manna, or material.
Amidst the angst, isolation and anxiety of the pandemic, taking
greater control of our own futures, making radical changes in our lives’
directions, and learning or teaching ourselves something new were all sources
of release, relief and satisfaction. Turns out the Stones were wrong; you can
get both satisfaction and just what you need - if you work at it. Just one
recent indication of the movement toward more meaning is the fact that more
than 16 million people took up the guitar in one 16-month period of
COVID-19. Fender’s sales of higher-end electric guitars almost doubled between
2020 and 2021 and the trendlines continue upwards. Another important indicator
is the massive persistence in today’s streaming world of “old” music, which speaks more powerfully to us than
the current commercial crap.
The gig economy - for better or worse - has empowered millions
of new doers, makers, and creators. It’s not clear that this is a real way to
make a viable living and, for sure, far too many giggers are working for
peanuts. But not everything is about dollars and sense. There’s a lot to
be said for the psychic rewards, both personally and collectively, in part
because so many of these undertakings are shared and collaborative rather than
asocial and solitary.
Admittedly, plenty of these activities are still tied to the
digital world. But any conversation you have with these folks about the joy and
passion, the real spark and energy, and the ultimate satisfaction that so many
of these “students” and lifelong learners are realizing comes from three
things: first, the immersive and compelling mess and the tactile connection
that making anything by yourself provides; second, the pride and psychological
rewards, which flow from repeated attempts, painful stumbles, and the eventual
learning and mastery of a new skill; and finally, the confidence, independence
and sense of security that grows from the certain knowledge that you can now
unilaterally create something unique, valuable and important.
There’s another element in this ongoing evolution and it’s
especially interesting and intriguing because - in every sense - it’s actually
a palpable desire to get back to the past. We may be kidding ourselves - in
some ways looking back sweetly and sadly - to lost, happier times when, given
life’s realities and the melancholy lies of history, those were, as always, the
times that never were and the ways we never were. Nostalgia is an amazingly
seductive and alchemic process whereby dreams become memories without ever
coming true. It’s a lot like grammar - we find the present tense and the past
perfect. But still, we hope and hang on.
We can look longingly back, with some care, because too much
nostalgia can suffocate the present. As Neil Young wrote in Ambulance Blues:
“It's easy to get buried in the past / When you try to make a good thing last.”
We all need to keep moving ahead. We long for a smarter, slower, and less
stressful time and, here again, it’s a throwback desire which we associate most
easily with tangible goods -; physical objects, concrete containers of
tradition, legacy and heritage.
In troubled times, nostalgia can be an efficient narcotic -
soothing, stabilizing, and far simpler than the rest of our lives. For the
magic to work and take hold, though, it helps to be holding tight to something.
The older and more traditional the better. Dad’s tools, Mom’s copper pots, a
well-worn mitt or an ink-stained journal, or a trumpet you haven’t touched
since you were 10.
And that’s how we ultimately arrive at a sad truth - while we
regularly revere and constantly celebrate innovation, we rarely reward,
appreciate, or acknowledge tradition. We disparage tradition too often as an
easy excuse to avoid change, cling to the past, or hold on to the illusion of
permanence. But change is everywhere today, and that rampant change is one of
the few constants in our lives. However, this isn’t an either/or proposition
because through thoughtful innovation we can recognize the value and importance
of tradition and craft while we still change and move forward.
When you’re entrusted with a tradition, you’ve got to protect
it. This may explain why a dozen or two of my favorite older entrepreneurs have
all become classic guitar players and collectors. Or to be more honest, far
more collectors than players, but it’s the thought that counts. They value and
appreciate where they’ve come from and the importance of the continuity and
connection to the past as they continue to build the cultures of their own
businesses. So many entrepreneurs are superstitious in their own ways, and, if
you asked why they’re attracted to these instruments, they’d say that hanging
on to the past helps them deal with the fears of today. They understand that
everything they’ve built might one day be simply swept away.
I expect to see a serious new wave of nostalgia, all kinds of revisited vintage material, a further explosion of thrifting and places like the Real Real although maybe not as grand, and movement toward reissues and remaking of all kinds of oldies and goodies.
This is also why I was so excited to see that Fender has
recreated an entire new line of classic guitar and bass models based on
legendary instruments (Telecaster, Stratocaster, Jazzmaster) called the
American Vintage II series. There’s also a video series called “Music Never
Dies” featuring performers talking about how their own music was so heavily
influenced by the past. Fender’s CEO, Andy Mooney, notes that the demand for
custom guitars with vintage specs which let players recreate the sounds and
tones behind some of the all-time classic music is growing. The actual collectible
antiques are just too expensive for most players today, but the newly issued Vintage
period-correct models enable them to add those historic riffs and sounds to
what he expects will be tomorrow’s iconic songs.
Just looking at the images of these monsters of old is amazing,
but the thought that millions of new young artists will be able to use them to
connect with the old traditions and build the new classics is what is really
exciting.
In a word, deja new.