Bandcamp 101: A beginner’s guide to the best site for finding your music darlings
Here is one for the audio lovers.
Like most people I know, I have always gotten the majority of my music from Spotify — apart from some brief dipping every once in a while into the ad-ridden land of YouTube for music videos, DJ sets or curated soundtracks. Yes, Spotify has a great set of features that make it convenient to find and play music — especially the ones that are trending — and find strange little (or 23-hour-long!) playlists with quirky titles like “/séxy frénch dépréssion”. But there’s another, smaller show in town with a community of the most enthusiastic listeners I’ve seen around the internet: Bandcamp. If you haven’t had a chance to dip your toes into the beautiful rabbit hole that is this website, then today is your lucky day.
And yes, I am talking about Bandcamp’s gem of a website and not their mobile app, because I tend to use the former. Don’t get me wrong, the app is convenient and portable, and does the job. The website, though, offers a more drastic alternative to the usual listening experience I’ve come to expect from a music streaming platform after using Spotify for so long. The website just has a certain charm that makes me want to return to it over and over again.
Something you will notice when you start browsing the artists on Bandcamp is that each one has their own dedicated page with personalised aesthetics far beyond what Spotify can offer. Each is like a little room you enter, interior design tailored to transport you into the world of the music. You shut the door behind you and just start listening.
The layouts of the pages are reminiscent of the early days of the internet. The nostalgic idea of the “indie web” is gaining popularity again these days among Gen Z, as young people are starting to gravitate towards the old-fashioned, independent corners of the internet in a bid to distance themselves from the overwhelming, feed-scrolling dopamine fountain that is Big Tech and social media.
I also personally love that I can see right away where in the world the music is coming from. I feel so much more present when I can visualise my listening geographically, and it pushes me to search for albums by country, to expand my tastes and add another layer to the music discovery.
Another beautiful detail that adds an element of love to the work is the mini-essay or rambling description that the artist can attach to what they put out. I long for this kind of extra, deeper layer of connection with the art and the creator, and I find that it isn’t available on Spotify.
For example, right now, as I am writing this, I am listening to the ‘Wild Wet World’ album by the one and only Cosmo Sheldrake. I actually discovered it on Spotify when it first came out, but rediscovering it on Bandcamp gave a whole other impression for me as a fan of his work. The description text is beautifully immersive, and it really helps to introduce the listener to the extraordinary thought that he pours into his art. The text tells us, “Over the course of the EP, we hear the sound of a coral reef slowly coming back to life”. This type of information transforms listening into a more interactive activity, as you become mindful of Sheldrake’s soundscapes and search for particular stories in the audio. There is also a good amount of scientific information in that particular text, which melds well with the theme of the album and gives a more well-rounded, intellectual experience, rather than a purely auditory one.
So, although I understand that art should be able to speak for itself, the descriptions on Bandcamp offer a useful place for the artist to create a deeper emotional bond between the listener and the music. I, for one, would have never known that the EP “features recordings of the last community of orcas on the west coast of Scotland” if I hadn’t read that sentence. This bit of text (which can get pretty long in some albums!) is also a great place for the musician to advocate for a cause they care about, which for Sheldrake is the protection of “the creatures and ecosystems whose voices feature on the record”.
The reviews left by supporters is a cute detail as well. In a way, it combines the listening of Spotify with the comments section of YouTube, minus the toxicity. Here in Bandcamp, all the commenters are supporters of the artist, which means they have bought the album and therefore have the option to review it. It’s refreshing to enter an album’s page and immediately see the appreciative words of fans who have paid real money to own a piece of the artist’s work because they love it so much. You can also click on the supporters to see what else they have in their collection and wishlist. Needless to say, that sends me down a rabbit hole every time, and I end up with way too many tabs open.
Of course, there is an important part of Bandcamp that I haven’t mentioned yet: the physical products. This is a feature of the site that I am not so familiar with because I prefer to only listen to my music online, but each page also serves as a storefront for items such as vinyls and miscellaneous merch. As the iconic Lauren Brodauf said on my YouTube feed recently, “hot people collect physical media”. The desire for more possessions that you can hold in your hand seems to be a growing sentiment as we are bombarded with endless content constantly at our fingertips, to be consumed at a single tap on a screen, but never truly owned by us. The idea of liking an artist’s work so much that you buy an actual CD or a handmade first edition cassette from them to play at home… There’s just something about it that feels warm and fuzzy.
There’s even more to Bandcamp than all the various delights I’ve mentioned so far. There’s live listening parties, exquisitely curated monthly genre guides, and daily album recommendations given by actual people instead of an AI recommendation engine. But I’ll leave you to discover more about those on your own. Clicking through links and getting lost in the interconnected web of vibes is half the joy of being on Bandcamp after all.
