BookBrowse Reviews High Bias by Marc Masters

BookBrowse:

A comprehensive book about the development and use of cassette tapes.

For people of my generation, there are few things that evoke as much nostalgia as cassette tapes. I remember them in a tactile way: the smooth sides and bottom ridges, the tiny spikes in the holes at the top, the forced interaction of flipping a tape, and the satisfaction of snapping a case closed. (In an earlier draft of this review, I wrote 2,000 words on my nostalgia over cassettes.) If my description of handling tapes stirred something in you, you'll probably love High Bias by Marc Masters.

Masters' work is thorough: from the creation of the cassette tape to Grateful Dead bootlegging to indie record labels, he covers just about every aspect, complete with quotes from a wide range of musicians. The book is thoroughly researched, and it's obvious that the author enjoyed every minute of it. I was impressed by how much was new to me. And the details that I knew became more magical when collected together. It's funny to use the word "magic" for something most people consider obsolete, and it was bemusing to read about all of the contemporaneous controversy over cassettes. Arguments were similar to current debates over streaming, but anti-cassette campaigns now seem silly. Record execs tried get police to enter people's homes and arrest them for dubbing tapes. One company offered a reward to someone who could invent a cassette that played normally but whose dubbed copies emitted loud squeals. I wonder what present conflicts will seem that ridiculous in hindsight.

The author, a longtime music journalist, delivers a good history of cassette tape technology. As a fellow music journalist, I appreciated his skill at explaining the technologies while maintaining readability. I loved learning about how cassettes were described in the late 1960s when tape players cost $69.95. The New York Times interviewed a man on the street who claimed that when two Walkman users crossed paths, it was "like Mercedes-Benz owners honking when they pass each other on the road." My favorite quote comes from a 1969 Newsweek article marveling at how "the cassette snaps smartly into the mouth of any cassette machine like perfectly fit false teeth."

In High Bias, the tape-obsessed people we meet include globetrotting collectors, concert bootleggers, and tape traders. While the internet has made these taping habits less necessary, there are still many people who participate in one or more of them. All the stories were interesting to read, though I did sometimes wonder when obsessions got out of hand. For instance, were people missing life events because they were off buying tapes in Syria? Was it an accomplishment to know so much about Grateful Dead shows? Or was it an admirable commitment to the thing that makes them happy? I imagine much of the book's target readership will see themselves in these stories, good and bad, just as I saw myself.

I had never really considered just how liberating the format was, allowing artists to bypass labels. In fact, when labels picked up artists whose self-recorded tapes they'd heard, the music was often stale by the time it hit the shelves. DJs were taping their whole sets and then selling the tapes just after the shows. Artists also innovated how tapes could be used: some cut and spliced, some strategically pressed pause, and some played the sound of a tape wearing down in the middle of a song. With the possibilities of tapes came ideas for creativity, including using ridiculous packaging to mail them. Musical artists and fans alike got into the spirit. My favorite involved cutting open a thrift store doll, putting the tape inside, stitching it up, and slapping an address label on it.

I highly recommend this book to other music nerds and enthusiasts. However, the early chapters are fast-paced and overwhelming with information. Meanwhile, the last chapter has a lot of block quotes from various people and seems like filler. Those are small considerations in a book with a lot to give. While reading High Bias, I texted old friends, reminiscing about tapes, recommending record stores, and talking about the mail-order music club Columbia House. I tried to remember the names of the people I traded tapes with in the early days of the internet and thought about how meaningful those interactions were. I never met any of them in person, but I can still remember their handwriting on the insert.

I focus on nostalgia a lot when describing this book, but maybe "hopeful" is a better sentiment. Like one reel connects to the other, tape connects people. It shows us that bonds made on now-deteriorated magnetic material can persist. Given that, who can help but be hopeful?

This review first ran in the November 1, 2023 issue of BookBrowse Recommends.