Do You Suffer From Big Cup Syndrome?

Today at the store, I saw something astonishing. The Reese’s Big Cup.

My wife, my friends and my casual acquaintances all acknowledge my love for the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. And someone in Hershey, PA clearly believes that if folks like me love the regulation size Cup and the miniature Cup, that a Big Cup would simply bowl me over.

But it didn’t.

I applaud the attempt, but the Big Cup fails for me the way too many independent discs fail for me when they show up in my mailbox.

Bigger is not better.

I love the standard Cup for it’s details, the way the ridges feel against my tongue and the “snap” of the edges against my teeth. The Big Cup is mostly more peanut butter. Okay, but not the experience I crave.

Too many independent discs are crammed to 74+ minutes because artists have become so heavily invested in their productions, they feel that every scrap of tape is a gem. In reality, that much music at once becomes overpowering. The transcendent experiences in your work get obscured by minutes of filler. You’re making your albums less special to your audience.

Ten to twelve tight songs on a disc really will make your audience happy, and it’s GOOD to leave them wanting more, just like a regular size Reese’s cup. One hit single will do the job too — like a miniature. Cramming your album with every minute of tracking you’ve done is overload — even when you’re work’s good. Just like the Big Cup.