In his keynote speech at the Zapproved Preservation Excellence Conference in Portland, Dr. Tony Salvador of Intel compared the “encores” of performers today to those of performers a century ago. “Encore,” Salvador noted, is French for “again;” yet, we use it to mean “more.” Today, performers brought back by applause don’t repeat their performance; they play a different song.
But for hundreds of years, the encore was an unpredictable, spontaneous eruption. Stirred by a brilliant aria in the midst of a performance, members of the audience would leap to their feet in applause, shouting, “ENCORE! ENCORE!” The singer and musicians were compelled to stop and perform the same song AGAIN. This might happen over and over, until the rapture was so fixed in the listeners’ minds they’d relent and let the performance continue.
The audiences of the 18th and 19th centuries demanded repetition of what they heard because there was no technology to reproduce it. Once Edison made sound stick to a cylinder, the mid-show encore disappeared, and the race to record everything began.
The natural world is an analog world. The signals to our senses vary continuously over time, experienced as waves of light, vibration or other stimuli. Much of the last century was devoted to recording analogs of these analogs; that is, preserving the waves of the natural world as waves that could be impressed upon tinfoil, wax and vinyl, as areas of transparency and opacity on photographic film or as regions of varying magnetic intensity on tape.
Then, late in the 20th century, we learned to mimic analog information using the rapid “on” and “off” of digital data, and devoted the last quarter of the century to converting our vast collection of analog recordings to digital forms. ENCORE! ENCORE! (But this time, do it in ones and zeroes, okay?). It was my generation’s take on converting manuscripts to movable type in the middle ages. Continue reading






