*Disclaimer: This is SUCH a load of garbage written on a Saturday night because everyone is lame and doing homework and probably listening to their ipods on shuffle*

These days everyone knows best. We can decide what is most beneficial in terms of our lifestyle and our vocations. We can creatively assemble our own religious systems and our own guaranteed-to-work weight-loss programs. In fact, we can even assert our own preferences on other people if we feel like it. We know what’s best for ourselves, and we’ll be damned if we don’t know what’s best for our neighbor. We point out where their haircuts went wrong and where they speak too much and where they raise rotten kids. We can criticize politicians and authority figures and celebrities and professors. These are our American rights, and we’ll die to preserve them (or maybe we won’t, because perhaps it will be best if we live).

And what’s even most impressive, we can contend that a person’s work of creative integrity is subject to our own whims and fancies. The “shuffle” function on any music-playing device illustrates the rotundness of American choice quite nicely, I think. We’ll buy (or illegally download) a carefully-constructed album, labored over for days and weeks and months by its respective creator, and then shove it onto our computer and condemn it straight to the pool of anonymity with all the other artists and creators that live trapped in our hard-drives. From then on, the songs may have names, but the songs are distanced from each other and they are subject to the capricious selection of the Most-High Shuffle.

There is nothing more annoying than anticipating the solemn yet cheerful “The Transfiguration” after hearing the ominous “Seven Swans” and getting the bombastic and rhythmically decadent “We Just Can’t Be Defeated” instead. Not only does this tear apart the intentions of the author, it also ruins a perfectly-crafted moment of nearly-divine inspiration. “We Just Can’t Be Defeated” (by the Go! Team) is a fine song in and of itself, and also in the context of the album on which it’s been placed, but it has absolutely no right to infringe on the ownership of that last spot on Sufjan Steven’s genius fourth album. I will contend that the first two songs mention, played consecutively as intended, compose one of the finest moments in musical history. To separate them is nearly profane. The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. But isn’t this the very danger of the shuffle?

Albums are often lovingly-crafted entities. Not always, I’ll admit, but often enough. Imagine the sleep-deprived musician sitting in his studio-apartment at 3:17 in the morning, trembling under the influence of a pot of coffee, deliberating over the track-list in front of him, intent on placing his songs correctly and cohesively. Imagine the six piece band, weathering intense and passionate debates over the natural order of their songs, putting their friendship on the line, but emerging from the strife with one beautiful, thematically consistent album. What right have we to enter ourselves into this conflict of the artist’s soul?

Take “The Life Pursuit” by Scottish twee-pop band Belle & Sebastian. It’s a narrative. It’s a difficult narrative, but it’s there and it’s deliberate. It tells a story, it teaches a lesson, it sympathizes. It’s a living and breathing creation. Its members work together in an orderly fashion to faithfully relate this story. How can you tolerate hearing “For the Price of a Cup of Tea” before “Act of the Apostle”? How can you systematically hear the White Stripes and then Simon & Garfunkel and then the New Pornographers and still retain your sanity? There’s a reason Half-Handed Cloud wrote one song but split it into seven parts. Dare you put one part six (”I Got A-Rested) in front of part four (”That You May Be Gracious) and still feel good about yourself in the morning? But this is the very danger of the shuffle!

Or consider the Polyphonic Spree’s musical offerings. They’ve put out three full length albums. The first song on their first album (”The Beginning Stages Of…”) was entitled “Section One.” The last song on their third album (”The Fragile Army”) was entitled “Section 32.” Each song has a subtitle that adds flavor to the song, but there is no mistaking that these songs were placed in order for a reason. Not only is each album a cohesive project, all three albums together express a continuity. They are viewed as a unit. The sections portray the natural progression of theme and style through the band’s existence.

A similar comparison can be made to The Decemberists latest album, “The Crane Wife.” Who knows why Colin Meloy and his fellow troubadours put “The Crane Wife 3? at the beginning of the album and “The Crane Wife 1 & 2? at the end, but that portrays even more meticulous planning on the band’s part, as they expect the listener to be able to put the narrative together, even though it does not appear chronologically on an album. This album models itself off of an old Japanese fable. This theme is prominent throughout the disc. But go ahead, send it to your ipod shuffle. Hear the album’s closer, “Sons and Daughters” before hearing “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC. See if it’ll lead you straight there.

iPod Shuffle, you’ve ensnared us. You’ve taken our integrity and you’ve taken our money. You’ve robbed the artist of his laboriously-composed sequence of songs. You’ve made us lazy and sharpened our fickle inclinations. But I, my friends, will listen to The Fiery Furnaces’ “Widow City” from rocky start to noisy finish with the sensitivity of a finely-tuned and obedient Fiery Furnaces fan.

Of course you have the right to disagree with me; these are the benefits our post-modern society. And I’ll admit that I’m being facetious… but only semi-so.

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