We all have them—buried in car consoles, stacked in dusty spindles on desktops, forgotten in the trays of worn-out Discmen—mixed CDs are a part of our generation’s collective memory. Practically every one of us has received or compiled at least one in our lifetime. But do they really mean anything? Is making mixed CDs an art? And, if it is, is it an art of the past?

Let’s be honest, the only thing most of us listened to on cassette tapes was Raffi, and the majority of our experience with tapes in the last decade involve an iPod adapter. That said, the birth of mixing begins with the tape.

The art of mixing began in the 1980s when cassette tapes were introduced to the music market. With a little bit of creativity, a cassette recorder and a blank tape, just about everyone, from angst-filled teenagers to technology-challenged parents, could mix and match songs to their heart’s content.

“It was the first time people were able to do something like this,” said Assistant Professor of English Sean Cobb. Cobb recalls listening to one of his first mixed tapes, a compilation of early garage punk, called “Nuggets.”

Sophomore Philosophy and Russian Major Evan Larkin, KGSM DJ and program director, remembers making his first mixed tapes as a child. “I made them mostly for myself or my friends with the same taste in music. …  I was a little late with technology and didn’t get my first CD player until a little before I turned 14,” said Larkin, “but by that time a couple of cassettes were really cheap.”

Eventually technology took mixing to a new level. Once CD burners could be installed on home PCs, music mixing grew exponentially. Sophomore History and Art History Major and KGSM Director of Events Emma Squire remembers her first mixed CD. “I received [it] from my first boyfriend in high school. I was 15, and it had on it all this new indie and alternative music that I had never listened to before. …  It expanded my musical horizons.”

The advent of the CD burner eliminated the messiness of dual tape decks and fast-forwarding through tracks (or waiting for them to play on the radio), and controlling the order songs played was easier than ever.

By the time most of us made it to high school, making mixed CDs was a widespread practice. Why did we do it? According to artofthemix.org, mixed CDs are a “creative act as well as a record of a series of decisions at a particular moment in time. It is an expression, a pastiche in which a person juxtaposes songs and sounds.”
“To make a mix for someone feels like an accomplishment,” said Larkin. “You’re using someone else’s poetry and music, but you made it—it’s a gift that costs no more than a blank CD … and it has infinite potential to be thoughtful.” For Squire, “the mix[ed] CD is kind of the ‘fantasy football’ of music nerds. It is the expression of your music taste to someone else with a common theme.”

Though they are sometimes a method to introduce friends to new music, Larkin feels they serve the best purpose “as a sign of affection.” Cobb agreed that “romantic reasons” are the predominant motivation.

Mixing to “say ‘I like you’ gets more complicated … expressing your feelings with someone else’s poetry is a delicate thing,” said Larkin. “Every line and song is highly charged and doubly symbolic,” said Cobb, which in his opinion leads to the vacuum of “over-analysis.”

Or is all this CD mixing an exercise of self-love after all?  “For people [who] are music connoisseurs, they want to show that they own and know a lot of music,” said Cobb. He sees them as “narcissistic—like a love letter to the person who makes them. There’s really more pressure on the person who receives [them, because] they have to accept the brilliance of the other person.”

Whatever our reasons, there are some strategies involved in the art of mixing. “Mix with tracks you’re both familiar with, things to remind them of times you’ve spent together—it’s amazing how well music can do that,” suggested Larkin. “It is a good idea to change up the tempos and read the lyrics,” said Squire. “I repeat, read the lyrics.”

Larkin argued that track order “only matters if you’re making it for someone interested in composition themselves. … Most people don’t care beyond the first song”

Larkin also thinks that when people incorporate homemade artwork (from sharpie doodles to elaborate cases generated after hours of Photoshop tinkering), “it makes it instantly a great mix[ed] CD,” whereas Cobb won’t even provide a song list in order to encourage follow-up discussion.

Everyone seems to follow his or her own set of rules to dictate the art (or merely pastime) of mixing and broadcasting his or her new mix to the world. For those interested in consulting outside sources in fine-tuning their mixing skills, wikihow.com/Make-a-Perfect-Mix-Tape-or-CD is a reputable source for some conventional advice.

But as an art form, mixing can legitimately go in any direction. “Most people think they can’t have wildly disparate songs and that you have to group them thematically, or by genre or style,” said Cobb, “but I break this [rule] all the time.”

With all the creativity and philosophy involved in making mixes, it is hard to argue that it’s anything but a form of art; but is it an art form on track for extinction? Even committed CD-mixer Larkin admits his skills have laid dormant for some time. “It’s been a while,” Larkin said. Cobb theorized that mixed CDs are “a dying art … because CDs in general are a dying art.”

Playlists and iPods aren’t very conducive to sharing mixes, and when music is shared or downloaded, “getting songs you didn’t actually buy is so much easier and simpler. No one has to be friends” to exchange music anymore, said Larkin. Cobb also recognized how mixing has become “more commercialized” with websites like Pandora, tools like iTunes’ Genius, and pre-made mixes, such as workout samplers or the highly respected line of “NOW! That’s What I Call Music” pre-mixed CDs. Over the years mixes have become less of a “countercultural or subcultural art form,” said Cobb.

However, Larkin sees it more of an “endangered art” rather than an altogether “dying” one. The personal aspect in mixed CDs is important to Larkin. “You know someone [who]’s familiar with the music—if you have a reaction, you can express it. If a band is coming to town, you have someone to go with.”

“I still make them for my wife,” said Cobb of mixed CDs. “There’s nothing personal in giving entire albums on MP3 CDs … there’s no creativity.” Squire looks forward to the new form of the mix. “As long as there is music kids love, there will be mix[ed] CDs or whatever medium comes next.”

If you have yet to dabble in the high art of CD mixing, Larkin argues it is time to jump in and give it a try before the medium passes out of use altogether. “If anyone hasn’t made a mix[ed] CD before, they should probably try it so they understand exactly what I’m saying,” said Larkin. “You won’t have more of an experience than reading about it unless you actually do it and see where it gets you.”