The media is like that apocryphal Mark Twain quote—the reports of its death are greatly exaggerated. It hasn’t died so much as evolved, perhaps beyond recognition, but vestigial elements persist.
This is the case for so-called legacy media—print, broadcast, cable/satellite, theatrically released films, out-of-home billboards and artefacts like one’s precious vinyl—which are like neanderthals—they’re cruder, less elegant precursors but still made their mark on cave walls. Digital media is like homo sapians—ubiquitous and redolent with self-importance.
It should be noted that neanderthals were doing just fine until the homo sapiens ate them. It’s the same for legacy media and the omnivorous, apex predator of digital media that has devoured our culture. Now, dinosaurs like Warner Bros. Discovery are spinning off what remain of their pre-digital assets; ditto Comcast, which has hived off the bulk of its NBCUniversal cable network portfolio into a new entity called Versant—a deceptively simple name that nobody can pronounce correctly (apparently it’s Vers-ANT, like the insect, not croissant).
These so-called “Spin-Cos,” once jettisoned, will atrophy in the chilly vacuum of digital space and eventually wink out. Meanwhile, the myth of a democratized digital marketplace has pushed an agenda of content-to-platform sharecropping, resulting in a Cambrian explosion of influencer Instagrams, podcasts and Substack newsletters that has finally reached Butthole Status—everyone’s got one. The result is an endless scroll of content so abundant it feels disposable. Scarcity, it turns out, is a feature, not a bug.
But scarcity isn’t merely economic; it’s psychological. A limited-press zine feels weightier than the average Substack post. A midnight 35 mm screening feels more cinematic than an algorithmic auto-play. An interesting billboard on the 101 can still catch one’s attention in a way no promoted tweet can.
For creatives, that means legacy channels double as status amplifiers. The very hurdles inherent in their production filter out the sludge. What survives enters a smaller arena, but with brighter spotlights and more attentive audiences. In an era when everyone can publish anything instantly, abundance breeds indifference and scarcity suggests significance.
Legacy media may be diminished, but in its scarcity lies a new power—not reach, but resonance—fewer signals, perhaps, but clearer ones, and maybe worth tuning in before the cave wall crumbles.
Bohemian editor Daedalus Howell hosts At-Large with Daedalus Howell, 2 to 3pm, Monday through Friday, on Wine Country Radio’s 95.5 FM and podcast platforms everywhere. More at dhowell.com.
