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Refinery29
12 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Refinery29
I Charged My Old iPod — & Found Unexpected Comfort In The Nostalgia
Every time I board a plane and the person sitting next to me is a stranger, I notice them clock the noughties relic in my palm: my iPod Classic. Yes, I still have the same one from over 15 years ago, and I still have my even older Nano too. They both work and they both house a collection of my favourite music from way back when. Some songs are cringeworthy to scroll past using the click-wheel (does anyone remember watching 'Britannia High'? Well, I have the soundtrack), others are a nice trip down memory lane, and some are surprises — apparently I was already into Oasis and The xx while still listening to Hilary Duff and Jamelia. Who knew? It's not just me; there's a lot of people with an appetite to press rewind when it comes to our tech. Gen Z has brought back the digi camera from my youth; brick phones are cool; and there's increasingly been discourse around owning media again instead of renting or streaming it, so DVDs are no longer defunct. As for iPods, my colleague Esther Newman has purchased a secondhand one so she doesn't have to worry about seeing texts or emails come in while connecting with nature on walks and listening to The Last Dinner Party. Gadgets like iPods gave us freedom to carry lots of the music we loved around with us. The iPod is the perfect spot in history: not so far back that you have to carry bulky CDs and a Walkman, but just far enough that texts, calls and emails won't interrupt your listening. Years' worth of bangers (and memories) all on one small device — magic. Old tech is helping us disconnect from the always-on bombardment of the present, while reconnecting with our younger selves and less overwhelming pasts. I love my iPod for this reason too. It doesn't rely on the internet, I don't need to frantically download stuff for a long flight, and the cool feeling of the stainless steel in my hand is oddly comforting. Essentially it gives me a deep sense of who I was as a child. It's a reminder of a time when my biggest concern was which albums to spend my pocket money on; building a wishlist on iTunes I slowly worked through. Lady Gaga's Telephone music video? Bought it. Soundgarden's Black Hole Sun? A gateway to the dad rock I'd be hooked on for the next decade. None of the jazz-adjacent genres I listen to now feature, but my iPod is a sweet reminder of how much my tastes have evolved with my personality. When there's so much to digest and absorb constantly — be it through social media, search engines, news alerts and seemingly endless notifications — it's a luxury to be able to turn it all off for a moment. Maybe old devices are an antidote to some of the mental health problems connected with modern tech. The BBC reported that people had turned to dumbphones to lower their screentime and be more present, which contributes to improved mental health, relationships, sleep quality, and general wellbeing. Having written about how hard reducing your screen time can be with a smartphone, I can only imagine how much less stressed and time-rich I would be if I made the switch to an old-school phone. On Reddit, people have discussed how swapping has helped them enjoy activities more, like going on a hike without the internet featuring. Nostalgia helps with our wellbeing. Research from 2023, conducted by the Human Flourishing Lab at the Archbridge Institute, found that 84% of people use nostalgia to help them remember what's important in their lives, and 60% said nostalgic memories offer guidance when they feel stuck in life. 'After studying this topic for more than 20 years, I've discovered that nostalgia actually helps people move forward,' said social psychologist Clay Routledge, PhD, vice president of research and director of the Human Flourishing Lab, to the American Psychological Association. 'It makes people more optimistic about the future, it boosts wellbeing, it reduces anxiety, it increases positive mood and self-esteem and meaning in life. But more than that, it makes people thankful, and it energises them.' Using old tech isn't a meaningless decision, or a trend for trend's sake. Whether we realise it or not, we can benefit from both the nostalgia it brings and the remedy it delivers when modern tech feels too much. When I use my iPod, I get to have the decisions about what to listen to made by my younger self for present day me. I can hit 'shuffle' and avoid incoming notifications on other devices. It's just me, the music, and the inevitable memories that appear as each song begins to play. It's the soundtrack of my early teens.
Telegraph
21-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
I live near a festival site – and I love it
Brockwell Park stands at the southern end of Herne Hill in south London. Opened to the public in 1892, it still feels like a spirited reminder of Victorian philanthropy; a place where London's cultural and social divisions are eroded; a free space for joggers, tai chi practitioners, footballers, families and the occasional miscreant. In the early weeks of the pandemic, the park had to be closed due to fears of overcrowding – a sign that it's a part of everyone's lives. For many years, I have lived nearby. I've benefited from Brockwell's commanding views across the city, its lido, its beautiful walled garden. I have also been to the occasional music gig – and it's the site's use as a venue for festivals that has attracted so many headlines recently, and caused many of my neighbours much consternation. It sometimes feels as though the battle for Brockwell Park were being pitched as a battle for London's soul. In short: part of the park is closed off every year for about seven or eight weeks for a series of festivals known as Brockwell Live – this closure is for the setting-up, as well as the events themselves. The most high-profile festival is Mighty Hoopla, which brings together 2000s favourites such as Daniel Bedingfield, Samantha Mumba and Jamelia. The complainants have, inevitably, been branded Nimbys. I'm not so sure: for one thing, I'm sympathetic to their environmental concerns. The park is a haven for pipistrelles, Daubenton's bats and a variety of birds such as herons, and green-winged teals. Traffic, both human and automotive, increases horribly when major events are happening. Litter unfurls through the Victorian streets. And yet I don't oppose Brockwell Live. For one thing, I get a weird Proustian rush when I open my window and, if the wind is in the right direction, I hear the sound of Sugababes performing Push the Button. More seriously, we know that live music in Britain remains in a perilous position. The decline has been coming since the early 2000s, and was exacerbated horribly by the pandemic. In 2023, no fewer than 125 grass-roots venues closed in the UK, with escalating costs in the form of rent and utility bills the main cause. Last year, it was estimated that the music sector contributed £6.1 billion to the economy – not just because of ticket sales, but due to spending at the venue and in the local environment. Big tours, such as those undertaken by Coldplay, accounted for three-quarters of the total. But no one in that echelon plays at Brockwell Park – apart from Kneecap, who appear this weekend at Wide Awake Festival, – but they may be the Coldplays of tomorrow, and they need to hustle: their careers are reliant on events such as these, particularly in an age when streaming has critically reduced artists' revenues. The reduction of live music venues in London has also been catastrophic for youngsters who want to discover new artists, or even just have a good time. In the late 1990s, the landscape was filled with a mix of emerging talent and established names. You could crawl along Camden High Street on a Thursday night and catch five different bands (or so it seemed). I wonder how many of those venues still exist. My favourite, The Falcon, a wonderfully dingy hub for shoegazers and hyperactive indie kids, was situated on Royal College Street: it has long gone. Today, a festival at a London park feels about as close to the live experience I was lucky enough to have nearly 30 years ago. Of course, even these festivals aren't what they once were. Brockwell Live is promoted by Superstruct, a multinational company which is in turn owned by KKR, a global investment firm. This is a long way from the heyday of the rackety independent festival. Some vanished events sound rather wonderful: I would have loved to attend the Anti-Heroin Festival at Crystal Palace Park in 1985, when Hawkwind and Spear of Destiny shared the stage with Dame Vera Lynn. Brockwell Park, too, has had its fair share of politically themed events, notably Rock Against Racism in 1978 and 1979, when attendance is thought to have been in excess of 150,000 (these were, of course, free). Mighty Hoopla's current capacity is less than 20 per cent of this. So let the music play? Brockwell Live announced earlier this week that the festivals would go ahead despite a successful legal challenge from a local campaign group. Yet certain things do need to change: I would argue that, given environmental concerns, the capacity should be reduced, and also that Superstruct should pledge a considerable donation to the Music Venue Trust. Live music is crucial to Britain's cultural infrastructure – but it's ever more becoming a tale of haves and have-nots.
