My Shrine For Music

Today I introduce you to a purely imaginary shrine I sometimes think about. It will never leave your head, but I’m ok with that. This is a “for fun” idea.

As most creative people can tell you, several past thoughts and feelings will often combine together in an instant. This idea started with Arty tweeting something like, “always write down the music that means something to you, it’s sad forgetting those memories.” I tried to take it up as a habit, but I failed. (I bet he did too.)

Next, I asked Naval Ravikant on Twitter if he could imagine a computer that didn’t need the parts replaced every time technology advances (“A tiny human”). I don’t know how this relates, but it comes to mind when I think of this idea, so it is related somehow.

Lastly, one of my trips to Electric Daisy Carnival involved a fairly confused trip to the mainstage. I was thinking about how archaeologists find ancient ruins, temples, artifacts, and monuments built from before we recorded history. We have no way to understand their meaning. We just know people cared enough about something to haul a several-ton piece of stone through the desert and turn it upright.

I noticed there was similarity between those past people, and the ones dancing around me. In a hundred years, when the current generation of ravers are all gone, people will wonder about our wild dancing in the desert. Not as much, because it’s on video, but they’ll never really know.

I’ll write more about that last thought later. For now it is enough to know that it is central to the shrine I imagine, erected up in the mountains. Somewhere far.

Drag some stones up to a ridiculous height. Stand these pillars up in a circle, and add a harddrive designed for durability inside the biggest one (it’s meant to last for eternity, ya dig?). Everyone who wants to add a .mp3 can add one, and there will be a public list of everything already added — so you can feel comfort knowing one beloved track is already saved, and add a different one.

For maximum emotional effect, you get to add one track. Just one.

Originally, I pictured this as a place you would go to unlock a vault of people’s memories of dancing the night away, which you could access with a neural interface. But it’s just occurred to me that the other pillars obviously have speakers inside them. Or maybe they simply are speakers. It’s your imagination now.

***

In the future, neuroscientists will have a way to download your memories and feelings, and store them as data. Add durable casing and you’ve got yourself a shrine. At that point, the hardest part would be making sure future generations cared enough to come visit our traces. I wonder if the ancients mentioned above felt the same.

It would be a great place to conclude festival season.

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