What I’m going to say is unusual for an academic, peer-reviewed book (brace yourself): I’m buying this book as gifts for my non-academia friends. Whaaaat? No one buys academic books for fun and certainly not for non-academic friends, people who couldn’t give a chuck about literature reviews and theoretical frameworks and nuances and problematizing blah blah blah blah….
While published by University of North Carolina Press, as a very well-researched, stunning piece of scholarship, High Bias makes for an amazingly refreshing, smooth, and interesting work of non-fiction. It is one of those rare books that is entirely suited to an academic audience as well as a general adult readership.
Some of this is due to the subject matter. Every generation has its nostalgic artifacts; music in particular — and here also, its mode, the cassette tape — is one that reaches across many divides. Regardless of our individual tastes in music, those of us who grew in its era can relate to the tactile use of one. The book triggers a muscle memory in both our brains and fingertips. As I read this book I could recall with vivid clarity how the grooves in my cassette tapes felt as I twisted it around to switch from Side A to Side B, or vice versa.
Sentimentality aside, High Bias delivers as a stellar piece of academic scholarship.
The book is divided into and introduction and seven chapters. The first two detail the physical history of the cassette, its development and rise; chapters three and four explore how music travelled in the real world, as dubbed music, from one hand to another. These chapters pay especial attention to the cassette and its involvement in the evolution of hip hop, rap, and DJ music. Chapter five takes this exploration further, beyond American shores, to trace the cultural impact of cassettes on music and its distribution in other places: Turkey, Southeast Asia, and so on. What struck me about these chapters is how the cassette functioned as a mode of connection between people in far flung places. Chapter six ends this discussion with the thing that most of us remember: the personal mixtape. Chapter seven leaves the future of the cassette open; aptly titled, “Tape’s Not Dead.”
Masters draws from oral histories, interviews, archival text, as well as published texts and articles from the last half of the twentieth century; this is a multiple material culture approach to the topic, one that is likely necessary due to the nature and era of the cassette. Masters’ scholarship has breadth, even while — as mentioned earlier — it deftly avoids the pedantism typical of most academic books.
Masters’ prose adds to the accessibility of this book. It reads like a podcast, something I might expect on cassette from a friend who says, “Hey, you gotta listen to this,” and slips it into my bag. The words flow and paint a palpable texture of the many lives that have created and been touched by the cassette and the music it contained.
I’m going to go now and put this book on my Wish List. I want a copy for my personal library.
Dr JoAnn LoSavio 