Last night I cancelled my membership with BMG Music Service. It was easy. All I had to do was click one button on the Web site (although the button itself was kind of tricky to find), and the actual decision was a no-brainer, too. I think I’ve bought only one CD from them in the last eighteen months or so, and paging through the monthly catalog was kind of like looking at a stranger’s yearbook: lots of pretty young faces, but the names mean nothing to me. Hell, I don’t even listen to music much anymore — I can go months without turning on my stereo, and I haven’t been really aware of what’s current since the days of Nirvana and Pearl Jam.
Still, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness when I clicked that “cancel” button. It was a genuine end-of-an-era moment, seeing as I’ve been a member of BMG since before compact discs were the standard music format. Back when I joined, BMG was the RCA Record and Tape Club, and before that I was a member of the Columbia Record and Tape Club. Once upon a time, way back in the glorious, pre-digital ’80s, everybody was a member of the Columbia Record and Tape Club. How could any self-respecting teenager resist the offer of twelve albums for only a penny?
