Sure, it’s not a great shock that Sony is discontinuing its Sony Walkman portable audio cassette player (already has, actually…get ’em while they last). But it’s a melancholy moment nonetheless. Back in the late ’70s and early ’80s, the Walkman was a glimpse of the mobile and personal relationship with music yet to come. Instead of being anchored near your home stereo or in your car (if you had a car or a home stereo), the Walkman moved with you. And instead of playing for (or bothering) the world like a boombox, the Walkman played only for you.
I bought my first Walkman with my own money back in high school ($90, about the size of cigar box, which seemed impossibly small). And it felt like I suddenly had the power to curate the soundtrack of my life. It was freedom, and expression, and control, all in one.
Granted, previous teenage generations had protest and motorcycles and hot rods to express that freedom, and I had a block of plastic, motors, and circuitry that only changed the world for one person at a time. And granted, changing our own individual worlds rather than the shared world became a rather unproductive theme for that decade.
But the Walkman changed our relationship with music in a way that’s so obvious now, but was so revolutionary then. And that’s worth a moment of pause.
A lovely eulogy, Andrew. I still have my Walkman, and am now thinking of building a little shrine…