I'm 55. There's always something new and interesting happening with music somewhere. I don't listen to the radio much, and don't go to record stores, but I occasionally buy vinyl (new and old) and am an Apple Music subscriber.
In my non-expert and not deeply considered assessment, there's just too much music out there. Which is a weird thing for a music lover to say. But dig: almost everybody has access to recording equipment. A few years ago, while working in London, I wrote and recorded a song on my iPhone and it sounded good, and then I used DistroKid and BOOM it's on Spotify and iTunes now.
The library at our fingertips is massive. Oppressively, intimidatingly so. When COVID hit I would put on a curated Apple Music playlist and take long walks, and some of the songs were fantastic. But did I take note of the artists, download their albums, fall in love with them like kid me discovering U2 on MTV? No.
Maybe that's because I'm older and past the point of devouring artists so as to define myself. Or maybe because I work (sort of) in the music biz and I'm jaded.
Or maybe it's because there's TOO MUCH MUSIC. A few months ago, I was trying to remember the name of a band I had briefly fallen in love with a few years before that. Why had I stopped listening to them? Why hadn't I bought their vinyl? The answer is that some other new music came along and I bopped from momentary fascination to momentary fascination.
Too. Much. Music.