Around the time of its release I read many wonderful reviews of Cockahoop. But having been slightly disappointed by the past couple of releases from Cerys' previous band Catatonia, I didn't buy it until I saw it in the HMV sale on Saturday.
And now I wonder what took me so long!
It's a delightful collection of three-minute songs. Joyous melodies and rootsy Americana arrangements cross with classic hymns and Welsh poetry. At the centre of the album a thunderstorm is caught in wide stereo as a violin improvises a tune. Cockahoop is a surprisingly wonderful eclectic mix.
Why then did I take the album back for a refund today?
The exclamation becomes an expletive. While Cockahoop played fine in my hi-fi, it failed to play in my computer. Consequently I can't transfer the music to my iPod. And that makes the album far less useful to me - since the summer I've only very rarely played a physical CD.
There's a reason it won't play, of course. The record company suspects that once the recording is on my computer I may be unable to resist the temptation to distribute illegal copies of the music. This, they say, harms the artist.
Interestingly if I'd kept the recording, I'd rarely listen to it. I'd not be able to play it at work, or on the go (the recording can't even be copied to MiniDisc). I'd have to go out of my way to listen to it at home or in the car. The knock-on effect of this? No matter how good the music, I'll hear it less and I'll forget it more. This, I say, harms the artist.
I don't have answers to allay the music industry's current fears. It's generally accepted that the industry is changing. I just hope that the change will be universally accepted and we can go on supporting music rather than restricting it.
After all, I doubt I'll be able to get Cockahoop on vinyl; there's precedent for one format superseding another.
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