by flagamuffin
I don't want to be too hard on Glover, since he seems like a thoughtful guy whose worst crime is being derivative. In two recent interviews, he casually mentioned that he reads Kierkegaard, and while I really want to make fun of him for casually mentioning this, I'm not going to. It wouldn't be fair: Because the Internet is a bad record, but not because it's pretentious. I think about the same things Glover does all the time. I'm convinced that the level of depression I feel on a daily basis is caused by how much time I spend online. I can engage in a dozen great conversations with brilliant and hilarious people every day in social media, and it doesn't feel half as fulfilling as a positive in-person encounter with an average stranger (which I normally don't have, positive or negative, most days). And yet this does not prevent me from compulsively seeking validation in the digital realm — nor does it slow the speed at which the buzz from that validation fades. As with all addictive properties, the Internet creates a hunger that can't ever be satisfied. This is simply not a healthy way to live.What frustrates me about Because the Internet is that instead of illuminating an alternative — or allowing for the possibility of an alternative — it personifies why Internet life is so depressing. The tone is nostalgic, self-referential, and complacent. Like so much of web culture, this record favors archiving (of personal neuroses, of pop-culture references, of hip musical signifiers) over imagination. And it blocks out everything else; the idea of just unplugging from all of our shit never comes up. "I don't want anyone to think this is an indictment," Glover told Time. For him, "it's not like it's a bad thing" that constant exposure to the soul-deadening agents of the Internet has resulted, according to his own lyrics, in his inability to feel anything. Really? So why did you make this record again?