Despite the grumblings of record execs and audiophiles, it's pretty much inarguable that the digital revolution has been good for music fans. More people have more access to more music. 'Nuff said. But something happened recently that made me briefly pine for the pre-digital era. No, I didn't find a rare acetate of the first Velvet Underground album. Instead, I had the rare experience of being surprised.

In the course of looking for some information about the gorgeous new Vetiver album, Thing Of The Past, a gently hushed and sweetly rambling collection of obscure covers, I stumbled across a website offering a mix of frontman Andy Cabic's favorite songs; 27 songs by 27 different artists. I knew maybe five names, but the majority were mysteries. (Great Speckled Bird? Andrew More? Terry Allen?) Normally, this is when I go on a Googling rampage. But then I realized I was facing a golden opportunity.

Ever since songs jumped from our stereos to our hard drives, it's become easier than ever to get your geek on. Cyber-spit and you'll hit a review site. MP3 sites and blogs are almost as pervasive. But all this access and opinion has a downside. When was the last time you came to music with fresh ears? The sheer volume of music out there means we need gatekeepers (e.g., websites and magazines) to point out the good stuff. Those gatekeepers tell us what the music sounds like and who made it. But they also shape our reactions. Confronted by Cabic's mix, I decided, for the first time in a long time, to listen to something unencumbered by facts and opinions. Instead of the chatter of the Internet classes, all I heard was the music.

You know how people often say that the Mona Lisa was disappointing in person? That reaction has a lot to do with the baggage the painting has accrued. Today, when even bands with tiny amounts of renown are put under the microscope, it isn't just masterpieces that face the problem of information overload. I'm too much of a music nerd not to obsessively read about bands, but my experience with Cabic's mix was like an online palate cleanser. As someone once said, "Ignorance is bliss." Okay, I checked, and it was 18th-century English poet Thomas Gray. But I know what he meant.

So, what's your take? Would you trade some of the Internet's oracular power for a little more musical mystery? Does easily gained expertise hurt or help how we hear music? Post your comments below.