The Paradox of the 25 Dollar Dictionary

Around the time I first got an iPhone I decided to splurge for a $25.00 Dictionary app: the American Heritage Dictionary. While it is a reliable dictionary with a handy audio pronunciation feature and cross referencing; it was hardly worth the premium.

Now I also have the free Dictionary.com app. The dictionary is just as good, it has the same pronunciation feature, and better yet, it has a complete thesaurus, something altogether missing in the American Heritage Dictionary.

Yet I find myself using the Heritage. What accounts for the cognitive dissonance?

Perhaps it is what is referred to as the “psychological immune system”, which, in my opinion manifests itself most often as a form of ex-post rationalization. Simply put, when some decision is irreversible, you end up rationalizing it. A 25 dollar app purchase is certainly irreversible, (unless you engage in the arduous process of arguing the app was defective and somehow earn a refund). In order of magnitude, it is 25 times pricier than that of the average paid app, and infinitely more expensive than the free dictionary app that is arguably better. On the other hand a free app is completely reversible; you are no less wealthy after purchasing it, and once you delete it, you can forget the whole thing ever happened.

There might be a lesson here for app developers. Free is not always better. If you make someone pay, they are more likely going to engage in ex-post rationalization, and prefer to use your app due to the “investment they made”. They may exhibit loyalty even in the face of better, free alternatives (as I have).

Free apps are liable to be deleted at the drop of a hat, but who would delete an app that was actually paid for?

Gazing on Facebook

In Being and Nothingness Jean Paul Sartre refers to the “gaze” of another as being the biggest threat to our existential freedom. The idea here is that humans resort to objectifying each other because we cannot accept that other people have independent consciousness. So by default it brings us comfort to make other people objects in our personal universes. However there is tension when we experience the “gaze” of another, because we then realize that we are being objectified in their world. This helps to explain why when we check out at a coffee shop or see a firefighter on the side of the road, we simplify their existences to “cashier” and “firefighter” respectively. When someone else sees us, they apply their own labels, robbing us of our fundamental right to define ourselves. There is a point…

Facebook puts our lives on display to others whenever they feel like gawking at us, which reduces our ability to define ourselves as we wish. Anyone with access to our profiles can log on at 2am and objectify us. As younger generations mature and shed their former selves as most healthy adults do, they may be victim to objectifications based on their “former selves”. Now not only can they not control who is objectifying them and how, but they cannot dictate which version of themselves is being objectified. I can only imagine what Sartre would have thought about this technological slight to our existential freedom. After all, the man was pained by the idea of someone on the street merely having an opportunity to glance at us.

Sartre may have a point however, particularly as it pertains to the inevitable miscommunication of one’s personal identity through the online social medium. It is difficult to keep track of all photos posted, of all things said. “Untagging” a photo may remove the digital watermark, but leaves the content unaffected. Plus it makes a person seem petty and overly concerned about image, a statement in itself. To some extent, the average person is now subjected to one of the hardships of celebrity, without any of the associated upsides (and without the help of top-shelf PR).

But before you grab your pitchforks and deactivate your Facebook accounts to bring down the oppressor (not to worry Zucks, my readership is about six people) there could be some upsides to society here. Perhaps troubled individuals from younger generations will be forced to confront their pasts in a way that brings them to peace with it? Or perhaps overexposure to everyone’s blemishes desensitizes the public to mistakes made in years past? This issue is particularly salient in the political arena, where mudslinging takes the better half of campaign strategies. Independent of any possible benefit, I believe expectations of privacy have changed and will continue to change so that people are more comfortable (or less uncomfortable) with their image being available for public consumption.

Sartre’s solution: Stay off Facebook, never let anyone unwittingly define you.

A Utilitarian solution: Hop on board, say absolutely nothing about yourself and become friends with everyone else you know. Now enjoy the informational asymmetry where you know everything about everyone else and they know nothing about you. (This assumes of course that friends of yours would be willing to add you with a blank profile and that they aren’t employing the same strategy).

My solution: Actually learn what the various privacy settings are, only make friends with people you are actually friends with, and try not to do stuff you’ll regret in front of other people’s cameras.

The Wizard Lets You Behind His Curtain: “St. Thomas” by Sonny Rollins

Where better to start with Sonny Rollins than his rendition of a calypso sung to children in the Caribbean.

“St. Thomas” is the first track on Rollins’ classic 1956 album, Saxophone Colossus.

At the outset, Max Roach establishes the proper sentiment with a drum line that is so joyful and ephemeral, it couldn’t have been borne out of anywhere but the Caribbean. A proper introduction for Mr. Rollins, who then enters boisterously twice trumpeting the main theme from his tenor sax.

The head is simple, arguably juvenile, at least melodically, but Rollins makes it profound. In fact I would argue that he is the unrivaled master of making trivial melodies meaningful. Give a listen to his album Way Out West, with renditions of “Wagon Wheels”, and “I’m an Old Cowhand” and see for yourself. Certainly his unmistakable tone and compelling rhythmic plays help dignify these childish melodies but I think it is something more. After all, Rollins can play a single note for an entire chorus and make it sound damn good. Perhaps the simpler melodies isolate the more complex variables of melodic progression and note choice, and instead showcase Rollins’ sentiment. The man pours his heart into and out of his horn, and it might simply be easier to hear (for non-giants of jazz) when he does it through simpler melodies.

The head finishes with a playful drum fill from Max Roach before passing it back to Sonny. Rollins starts the first chorus restlessly pedaling between G and down to C through E (concert key) about fifteen times before flurrying into a perfectly formed idea that couldn’t have been composed more masterfully should he have had months rather than seconds to lay it out.

When you listen to enough jazz a fundamental intuition you gain is to identify when something sounds contrived. Players quote each other all the time, but when the quotation comes for lack of a better idea rather than being borne of true sentiment, then it sounds mechanical and premeditated. Rollins is of the highest echelon of integrity when it comes to truly improvising.

And if the story is ultimately about tension and release then Rollins succeeds by being honest about the tension of improvising. He shows you the pain of conceiving, of working for inspiration instead of just spontaneously receiving it. Other great jazz musicians are sometimes effortless to fault. You neither know how they got there, nor why they got there. Rollins isn’t afraid to show a piece of his process; something other musicians guard as if it were a trade secret. Rollins is indeed the wizard that pulls the curtain aside.

He’s pedaling between those few notes repeatedly before the melody blossoms, because he is literally conceiving the idea right then. And so through the flourish (and the second chorus) he takes you on a carefully crafted journey that puts you right back where it began: a bounce on G and down a fourth to C. But along the way, he’s shown you how he got there, and why.

The climax comes during the fifth bar of chorus three at 1:43 where he wails a high E down to C#, then resolves it with a soaring, never ending line that swings you right into the rest of the story and into chorus 4. It is as upbeat as it is reflective.

After a moving fifth chorus, Roach takes his drum solo, yet the melody doesn’t stop. Max infuses the ideas with a musical quality that echoes that of his bandleader.

BOOM!

At 3:53 Rollins hops in for his sixth chorus, rips out our training wheels, and thrusts us face forward into some of the most bad-ass lines in jazz history with Roach intensifying his attack to egg him on.

He begins chorus nine at 4:42 by ripping a blistering six-note pattern nine times in a row before evolving it to a brief climax and then tossing us off to Tommy Flanagan for the last solo

Flanagan, underrated among the giants of jazz piano (more on that later) bringing all the sensitivity, and lyricism we’ve come to love him for. But here it almost feels like damage control. As if Flanagan knew he was the last piece of narration before returning to the sweet little Calypso that somehow spawned Rollins’ fury. By the time that simmering six-by-nine blues line came crashing through, Rollins and co. had introduced a level of passion unfit for a child’s ears, and it was up to Flanagan bring the gap.

With a moment to cool off, Rollins hops back in with the “St. Thomas” theme ending the piece where it began: a damn good lullaby.

Five on Why Jazz is Healthier for You

1. Not Perishable—Listen to Sonny Rollins’ Live at the Vanguard or Coltrane’s Blue Train a million times. Does it ever get old?
2. Promotes Free Thinking—Inherent to the art
3. Organic—Not processed behind the scenes or top-down by the industry. Just a bunch of cats showing up to a studio/bar one day.
4. Locally Grown—Undeniably the greatest truly American art-form. High up in the running for greatest art-form worldwide. Ever.
5. All natural—(Con)fusion aside, it’s almost all acoustic input.

Dubious of Gamification

I once heard that early in his career, Sonny Rollins would simply walk off stage if he wasn’t feeling inspired. Startups should take this lesson to heart.

A multitude of sites/apps now employ “game” layers. Armed with a reductionist view of human psychology, these apps assume that the prospect of escalating one’s points will arouse people to compete towards some indeterminate goal.

The idea is to create a quasi-competitive environment, where people are incented to do things on the site, with the prospect of being rewarded with some arbitrary point system. Rate more things, invite more friends, generate more ad revenue –> get more “points”!

Sites with network externalities that rely on user-generated activity are particularly egregious offenders. It seems more emblematic of their insecurity about getting people to use their sites than any genuine conviction that the “game layer” is essential to the idea itself.

There are places where gamification works. Obviously ideas that are explicitly a “game” such as outright gaming sites, or ideas such as SCVNGR create no issues with disingenuous gamification layers. FourSquare, a founding father of contemporary “gamification” certainly does it well, particularly on the incentives side. The specter of becoming a “mayor” of an establishment conjures imagery of being showered with free champagne, compliments, and personal theme music upon entry. Fantasies aside, as mayor you have a very real prospect of getting a percentage discount. Also, there can only be ONE mayor of any given establishment, which imbues the designation with intrinsic value.

This is the crux of why gamification isn’t working for most sites.

Points and “badges”* across the spectrum have depreciated the “currency” of online point currencies.  Whether you are offering ukuleles, “street cred” or shmeeples, you should probably think about why anyone cares.

WARNING: Jazz Analogy

I once heard a great anecdote from one of the tenor sax guys from Wynton’s band at the Lincoln center jazz orchestra. He had heard this amazing line**, and spent the afternoon transcribing it. When he finally nailed it down to the exact phrasing, he was underwhelmed (and perplexed as to why). His wife, who was not particularly into jazz, commented that it didn’t sound as cool because the intention wasn’t there. The soloist who originally played the line had a genuine place for it in the context of his solo and story. Simply taking that line out, (no matter how cool it is structurally) and playing it without the intention, robs it of its impact.

I can’t help but feel most sites are slapping on the game layer as an afterthought perhaps as a last ditch viral marketing effort, or simply because it sounds cool when “played” by someone like FourSquare. In fact, the game-layer without genuine intention (or relevance) falls flat.

CONCLUSION: Games have their place, if you insist on gamifying something ungamifyable, at least try to make sure the reward is meaningful.