Quick-change artist

It was to be the highlight of Year 1 at my position.

Seven one-on-one sessions with actual customers over a 3-day period, testing an intermediate iteration of my company's major new product release. Participants had been screened, incentives had been procured, facilities had been reserved and the test plan had been finalized. Everything was ready to go.

Except, as it turns out, the product itself.

Unforeseen development issues pushed back deadlines and left me with a prototype that did not allow for completing any meaningful tasks.

Nobody to blame but myself, of course. I should have had the foresight to (a) insist on a "frozen" set of functionalities in accordance with the particulars of the test plan, and (b) allow for a minimum 2-week buffer between the promised delivery date and the actual testing. Instead, I was too eager to (a) believe that everything would fall into place as scheduled, and (b) put my new Morae software to practical use. In the process, I probably did my role within the company a bit of disservice.

So what then to do?

If my UX studies taught me anything, it's that you never turn down an opportunity to glean direct user input. The opportunities, by and large, are just too few and far between. Fortunately, I was only a few weeks removed from completing a fantastic master's level class on field research methods taught by Meena Kothandaraman, and I drew on much of what she had to say to draw up an alternate plan.

Targeting three product design issues that were never quite addressed to my satisfaction, I turned what were supposed to be usability testing sessions into three-part user research sessions, consisting of the following techniques:

• a contextual interview, to get insights into the likelihood of acceptance for a proposed functionality;
• conceptual drawing, to discern patterns of experience and preference for the design of a field mapping tool; and
• a card sort, to provide an organization solution for a group of functionality options within the product.

While the allotted time did not allow for full investigation into the issues, I got enough to go back to the project managers with preliminary data to be used to guide design decisions for the product's next dot version (the results of the card sort were particularly revealing). From a personal standpoint, I got to practice a few techniques with which I had very little experience.

When life gives you lemons . . .

K-I-S-S, my ass

Does the "Keep It Simple, Stupid" principle have it wrong?

Could be, according to Don Norman, who's been cited numerous times here. His recent article, Simplicity Is Highly Overrated, seems to argue that the K-I-S-S principle should be replaced by something like the K-I-S-B-M-S-I-L-C-E-S-T-I-F-B-A-M-P-D-S Principle:

"Keep It Simple But Make Sure It Looks Complicated Enough So That I'll Feel Better About My Purchasing Decision, Stupid"

The point he wishes to emphasize (located in the addendum) is that "people are not willing to pay for a system that looks simpler, because it looks less capable." In other words, systems that look more complicated seem capable of doing more, which positively effects the desire to purchase.

Josh Porter offers a great summary and commentary in Simplicity: The Ultimate Sophistication. Here's an excerpt:

"When users don't understand the advantages of each feature, such as when a user is buying her first digital camera, they are much more likely to avoid making a trade-off by choosing the feature-laden product . . . When users choose a feature-laden product, they may not be exhibiting a desire for complexity. Instead, users are anxious about predicting their future needs. Norman states it plainly: 'the truth is, simplicity does not sell'."

For UCD practitioners, these could be interpreted as "fightin' words" that run contrary to the principles that guide our profession.

What strikes me, though, is that neither Norman (in his essay) nor Porter (in his commentary) explicitly takes into account the age factor, which will kick in very soon when the aging boomers predominate the purchasing market.

Given the advances of the last few decades, the coming generation of seniors is probably less likely to be intimidated by new technologies. But to what degree will this be offset the various degenerations that inherently accompany aging (cognitive processing, decision-making, motor skills, peripheral vision, etc.)? Does the visibility of extra controls, or an overall high-tech look, carry any weight at all when it comes to forking over their hard-earned retirement allowances?

For these users, simplicity may indeed sell.

I think of my parents (both in their upper 60s), who, when shopping for a new appliance or gizmo, repeat the phrase "All I want to be able to do is . . ." an awful lot and are turned off by anything that they perceive as being beyond their ability to operate. What's more, they have very little motivation to learn, especially if "all I want to do is (watch TV, wash clothes, whatever)." Are they really unique to the coming generation of seniors?

To his great credit, Norman wants only for his essay to be understood, and the addendum does a good job of clarifying his intended point. However, sweeping statements such as those made in the essay cannot be fully understood until all relevant issues are included. In this respect, my humble opinion is that Norman has come up short.

Forgive me reader(s), for I have sinned

With the coming of the new year, I promised myself that this space would not fall victim to expiration -- that is, I would commit to posting frequently. Not because I expect to become UCD's answer to Arianna Huffington, but because amateur writers can be very much like infants, in that they tend to thrive on routine and regularity. I reasoned that if I could commit to posting at least once a week, I would eventually not need to remind myself to post at least once a week. (Sharp moviegoers will notice that I'm borrowing here almost verbatim from Sleepless in Seattle, so disclosure is warranted.)

So here it is, almost April, and I've not posted in more than a month. (There are reasons, as you will undoubtedly see in this space as spring unfolds, but I can't use it as an excuse.) I'm also far, far behind in the monitoring of my industry-related RSS feeds.

Leave it to the powers that be to send me a loud-and-clear wake-up call, in the form of Linda Bustos' recent article, The 10 Sins of Blog Usability.

I'm not sure whether or not the title represents a mixed metaphor -- there are 7 Deadly Sins, and 10 Commandments (I suppose it depends on the way they are worded.) In any event, I am clearly in violation of #8 -- Inconsistent Posting:

Now that you have a loyal fan base who are notified of every new
post, don’t disappoint them with time lags between posts. Pick a posting
schedule that’s realistic for your time schedule and stick to it. If you can’t
think of anything to post about, blog about someone else’s post related to your
topic and include a link back to that post . . .

(You'll note that not only does she wake me out of my self-imposed slumber, but she gives me the means of rectifying it.)

Fortunately, this space appears to hold up fairly well against Bustos' criteria -- comments are moderated, there is no advertising to "get in the way" of the message, there's no mixing of subject matter (no matter how much I might want to brag about my daughters), the pages are easy to read (dark text on a light background), and references to previous posts are link-enabled. My two failings against the list are (a) not having a search functionality and (b) an awkward means of subscribing via RSS feed, but until I noticed huge increases in my Site Meter reports, I'm going to let those pass.

What I can't afford to let pass, regardless of the size of my "loyal fan base," is old #8. My hope is that if I make my intentions public here, I'll hold myself more accountable -- or, to carry the analogy further, I'll have given myself the leeway to "go forth and sin no more."

Your kind indulgence is greatly appreciated.

RSS Part 1: Hunters & Gatherers

If you check in frequently with a news, sports or blog site, chances are you've seen them and wondered what they mean:

The Internet world remains largely one of “hunters” rather than “gatherers” – that is, we tend to actively seek out additions and changes on web sites, rather than having them come to us. Think about your favorite news website -- if you want to see what's new, you probably access the site by typing the URL into the browser's address window, selecting the URL from the address drop-down menu, or choosing it from your Favorites menu, then browse the pages "hunting" for the new, updated, or changed content.

Compare that to signing up to receive an "alert" or notification about updated content (new headlines, shopping deals you might be interested in, etc.) that comes to your email inbox. In this instance, you'd be "gathering" the new, updated or changed content before acting on it.

RSS (Really Simple Syndication) is the next step in this "gathering" concept, and it offers enormous opportunities for Internet users (and content providers as well, but that's another story). Its major selling point for Internet users is in saving significant time and reduced effort, by driving the content that matters most to a central viewing location automatically.

Providers of frequently updated content (news, weather, blogs, etc.) have been quickest to implement RSS strategies – for example, 76 of the top 100 U.S. newspapers offer RSS feeds on their websites. User adoption figures are far less precise – in a Pew Internet Project survey, only 9% of Internet users say they “have a good idea” of what an RSS feed is. Another study concluded that 27% of Internet users receive content driven by RSS without ever knowing it, via personalized “start” or “home” pages (My Yahoo!, My MSN, etc).

At first glance, it's another great concept that is slow to catch on. But if at least some subsection of Internet users is using RSS without knowing it, that first glance may be misleading. My questions were:

• How well (if at all) do people understand the "hunter" vs. "gatherer" approach?
• How much (and in what ways) do they value their "gatherer" instances?
• Do people notice icons lie those above (or their clickable text equivalents), and do they have any idea what they represent?
• How well can non-users grasp the concept of what RSS is? If presented with an definition and explanation, how well can their understanding be improved?
• What would encourage people to investigate using RSS feeds? What is discouraging them?

To get some answers, I performed a very small pilot study, using semi-structured phone interviews with 7 people to try and flesh some of these perceptions, motivations and attitudes out.

Findings will be posted in Part 2 -- suffice to say that content providers need to start paying attention to their users before widespread usage of RSS can be realized.

Usability and human-centered design on 60 Minutes

The Jan 28 episode of 60 Minutes featured a segment called "Get Me The Geeks!" -- on the surface, it documents how the deluge of technology into our daily lives has made us addicted to highly complicated gadgets and products. They're so complicated that we can't set them up by ourselves and can't fix them when they crash, break, or otherwise don't work as they should.

Look a little deeper, though, and you'll see confirmation that increased focus on usability and simplicity in design is necessary now more than ever before -- and that there's no indication that the need is going away any time soon.

Dr. Donald Norman (author of The Design of Everyday Things, an oft-referenced work in our field) is featured prominently in the piece, offering the following insights:

• ("When people call up geeks to come and fix something or install it, a lot of them seem very apologetic for not being able to do it. Should they be apologetic?" ) "Absolutely not. No, it's not their fault. It's the damned designers of this stuff who have no understanding of real people, everyday people."
  
  
• (on own his inability to install an HDTV) "Someone complained to me, ‘You'd need a degree, an engineering degree from MIT, to work this damn thing,’" Norman says. "Well, I have an engineering degree from MIT. And I couldn't work it."
  
  
• (on a not-too-distant future where appliances run the house) "So what's really gonna happen in 10 years is, all these things are getting smart," says Norman. "The kitchen appliances will talk to each other. Can you imagine, you go to the refrigerator and it says, ‘No. I've been talking to your scale – that's not on your diet?"

The dangers of using the mirror

I recently read David Gilmore's "Understanding and Overcoming Resistance to Ethnographic Design Research" (Interactions 9, 3 [May 2002], pp. 29-35).

This article tackles the dilemma of making the case for an ethnographic approach to user research – i.e., how to differentiate it from marketing research. The critical point seems to be that they are two kinds of research studying the same thing (potential users):

• Marketing research uses generalities to inform business decisions;
• User research uses a true understanding of user concerns to inform design decisions.

The author argues that encouraging stakeholders to hold a mirror up to themselves -- to self-observe and to tell specific stories about their own experiences -- is a good way to open the door of acceptance to detailed user research.

Gilmore's right about the need to differentiate between marketing efforts and user research efforts. However, when push comes to shove and dollars are on the table, I’m hard pressed to believe that self-observation and storytelling alone will be enough to get decision makers on-board.

I've been involved in too many instances where those in power used self-observation to kill any efforts to research the users of their products:

• "Hell, I go to plenty of web sites, and nobody I know does it like that!"
• "I asked a few people around my office, and they all do it this way."
• "Common sense should tell you that most people would do it this way."

Either that, or they use marketing/sales objectives to justify a design decision. I'm reminded of a job I once had as content administrator of a 1800+ FAQ database. Someone came up with the idea that links to purchase information should be included at the end of every piece of FAQ content. The thinking was, "while we've got their attention about the product they already own, why don't we provide a link to a detail page for one of the product's accessories? If they don't click on it, fine -- if they do, we may have a potential sale."

All well and good, but they didn't take the user into account. What if (s)he was having trouble with the product and came to the site to get troubleshooting information? These people would likely have at least a small amount of irritation or frustration that their product is not working properly -- is that the right time to hit them up for a sale? In this case, what on the surface makes sense for marketing could actually harm user relations.

Influential stakeholders may indeed need to be educated on the value of detailed user research, but deflecting the observations back on them probably isn't the answer. Better to demonstrate value in terms of bottom line (decreased calls to customer support, increased traffic to a buying environment, etc.) and of benefits that come from designing with real user goals, motivations and attitudes in mind.

As Gilmore ultimately states, "The aim should be to develop a design process grounded in the realities of people’s lives, not in stereotypes."

Deja-vu all over again

Happy New Year to all.

I came across a couple of articles recently that touched on a theme I experienced in previous professional life --

• In Sale must end: should discount methods be cleared off HCI's shelves? (2002), Cockton & Woolrich assert that discount usability methods (heuristic evaluation, cognitive walkthrough, etc.) produce results that are so error-prone as to be unreliable and of little value. Consequently, they run the risk of undercutting the validity of traditional full testing and the damaging the usability field as a whole.
  
  
• In the Nov 14 '06 edition of Brain Sparks, Jared Spool asserts that the execution of the most recent World Usability Day draws attention to the wrong aspects of the usability profession (from a business perspective), and that it could wind up doing the field as much harm as good.

If I read both articles correctly (and my apologies to the authors if I haven't), the concern centers on the viability of the usability practitioner within the design process and the prestige of the profession within the business enterprise.

For the first 10 or so years of my professional life, I was an in-house corporate video professional. Back then (circa 1990), the buzz was that the use of video was going to explode within the communications departments of corporate America -- perhaps not to the point of full-fledged TV studios in every headquarters, but at minimum a group of professionals taking advantage of the "democratization" that the medium was experiencing.

At the same time, a number of influential people in the field worried about the possible downsides: If more and more companies had the ability to create their own programs, where did that leave the seasoned "professionals" of the day? Would select instances of a more visible and expanded role within the business be worth the risk of more and more examples of sub-standard quality -- a "dumbing-down" that would ultimately cause more harm than good?

As an active member of the predominant trade group of the day, I was very friendly with video pros on both ends of the spectrum -- heads of entire video departments in large-scale businesses, as well as "one-person shops" who were trying to produce enough product to justify their jobs. Equal amounts of fantastic work and absolute crap were produced on both ends of the spectrum. And the video revolution kept on going -- accessibility to equipment, resources and distribution expanded to the point where now you don't need any formal education or professional experience to become a video "star."

In the end, of course, the key was the ability to provide, and prove, value to the business. If the business wasn't getting adequate value for the effort, its use of video was scaled back or eliminated altogether. When I think back on most of the projects I was responsible for in those early days, I honestly wonder what my employers were thinking when they decided to jump on the video bandwagon. On the other hand, for those who were able to derive tangible value from the effort, it didn't matter what was going on in the video world at large.

I can't help but think that HCI/usability is at the same point in its development and acceptance. It's not so much of a crossroads, where the field will take one direction or another. Rather, it could be seen as a widening of the same single road forward. Providing value keeps us near the center line, where moving forward is easiest, and allows the road to accommodate more travellers. Inevitably, some who join the journey will cling to the shoulder, using means, methods and approaches that are risky. Some of those will fall by the wayside, while others will wind up providing even more momentum for moving forward.

To take this automotive analogy one final nauseating step further, my guess is that business is beginning to see enough tangible benefit to what we're doing that use of discount methods and uncertainties over self-promotion are really very minor bumps in the road. As with any facet of business, the measure of value that HCI/usability provides will be the determinant of its fate.

News of note

Once again, the result is wasted time and wasted money.

The NBA has reversed its own decision to use a new microfiber ball and reverted back to using leather balls, due to player complaints.

In other words, they didn't check in with the users before making a design/implementation decision.

(My wife is the one who mentioned the connection between this story and the field of usability, so either the concept really makes sense, or I'm talking about it way too much.)

Also in the news . . .

Time's most recent cover story, How to Bring Our Schools Out of the 20th Century, outlines the 21st- century skills that leaders of business, industry and education say that our children MUST have moving forward. Among the notable quotes:

Jobs in the new economy -- the ones that won't get outsourced or automated -- "put an enormous premium on creative and innovative skills, seeing patterns where other people see only chaos," says Marc Tucker, an author of the skills-commission report and president of the National Center on Education and the Economy. Traditionally that's been an American strength, but schools have become less daring in the back-to-basics climate of NCLB. Kids also must learn to think across disciplines, since that's where most new breakthroughs are made. It's interdisciplinary combinations -- design and technology, mathematics and art -- "that produce YouTube and Google," says Thomas Friedman, the best-selling author of The World Is Flat.

Sound familiar?

Label, baby!

A central tenet of user centered design (UCD) is that the people who create a product -- content experts, technical experts, marketing, management and other stakeholders -- are not actual users of the product. Each has biases (both positive and negative) that are brought to the table and are inherent in the input and feedback that they provide. Armed with credentials in the UCD/HCI/usability field, part of my job is to hammer that concept home as much as possible.

So it's particularly humbling when my own biases are put on display.

One of my current projects is a new version of an online learning management system (LMS) that allows instructors to offer exams, training session, or a combination of the two to their students. Once once of these modules has been created, it can be scheduled according to preferred parameters and made available to be taken by students in the class.

In the programs current version, the interface has two views -- Instructor and Student. On the student side, these modules labeled Assignments. On the instructor side, they are labeled Scheduled Items. Part of the challenge of the new program version was to come up with a single label, to be used in both views, that best encompasses all three types of modules.

"Common sense" -- always dangerous in this line of work -- told me that Assignments was the best choice (i.e., a task or duty created by one person for completion by another), but debate within development and stakeholder meetings was spirited. Ordinarily, this would be a perfect opportunity for a card sorting exercise -- instead, I was asked to sit in on several design feedback conference calls with customers and try to glean consensus, which was not productive. Assignments did not have strong support, nor did Scheduled Items. One participant lobbied hard for Activities, which made everyone on our end of the phone roll their eyes.

With no way of gauging accurate preference or consensus over the phone, I decided to create an online survey and solicit input from my non-professional contact list. After providing some basic context information, I posed the following question:

In your opinion, which one of the following labels best describes the three types of modules outlined above?

• Assignments
• Tasks
• Exercises
• Projects
• Activities
• Other (Please Specify):

40 invitations to take the survey were sent out, with 20 people responding. The results:

• Assignments - 2
• Tasks - 1
• Exercises - 2
• Projects - 6
• Activities - 7
• Other - 2

Needless to say, this was eye-opening on several fronts. Project stakeholders started gaining an appreciation for the actual science behind UCD, understanding that conversations taking place in a conference call does not make for a foundation for good design decision-making.

For me personally, it was a huge and much-needed reality check. I am expected to be the in-house expert on such things, but when push comes to shove, the biases I bring to design can be just as potentially damaging as those of a "non-expert." Only by clearly defining and identifying the needs, challenges and preferences of actual users can information be effectively used by stakeholders to guide critical information design decisions.

Here's the pitch . . . and it's a bit outside

Career counselors and placement services emphasize the importance of the "elevator pitch" -- the 30-second introduction of who you are and what you do for a living that is used in networking and interview situations.

I have never been able to perfect this concept, even when I held positions that people seemed to grasp right off the bat (video producer, web producer, editor). It's become even more challenging since I entered the field of "Human Factors in Information Design." It takes me more than 30 seconds to inadequately "pitch" the concept of Human Factors, and another 30 to "pitch" Information Design (again inadequately).

friends and relatives continually ask, "So tell me again what it is you do?" My uncle Tom seemed to grasp the concept to a certain degree when he said, "So what you mean is you got a master's in 'user-friendly,' right?" From the layperson's view, he's not far off, but of course it's more than that.

So until I can an adequate "pitch" down (and for anyone who's stumbled here wondering what the hell I'm talking about), I'll analogize, courtesy of Hollywood . . .

Anyone who's seen Big (1988), starring Tom Hanks, probably remembers the "I don't get it" scene -- Hanks is a 13-year old who's made a wish to be "big" and wakes up the next day in the body of a 30-year old. Through a series of misadventures, he is named Vice-President of Product Development at a major toy company. A couple of rival execs are in a conference room, pitching their concept for a bulky robot toy to the company owner, using every bit of marketing and analytical data they can get to justify its development. Hanks tries playing with it with no success, then raises his hand and says,

"I don't get it . . . this is a building that turns into a robot, right? . . .
well what's fun about that?"

The rival hands him a graph showing increased demand and market share for robot toys, to which Hanks replies, "I still don't get it." (Here's a link to a clip of the scene -- you'll come across the scene about halfway through the clip.)

In reality, it's the rival execs that don't get it. All of their data may have supported the toy's concept, but they never consulted the users -- the kids that would be playing with it -- to see if they "got it."

The online revolution is still a recent development, and web sites and software have a notorious history of being designed by committee. Tech developers, marketing people, graphic designers, support staff, and upper management all have a vision for what would make for a good and useful product, and the result is often an attempt to satisfy all of these stakeholder groups. What gets ignored is contact with the user -- making sure that the design does not get in the way of being able to do the work people need to do, and uncovering all potential issues early in the design process so that money and resources are not wasted further down the product development line.

So that's what we're charged with -- being a "user advocate," if you will, who uses research and testing techniques to (a) mitigate early design and development costs for computer-based information products, and (b) help ensure a satisfactory user experience.

Not quite the Jonathan Papelbon fastball I'd like, but at this point I'll settle for not having Steve Blass disease.

Worth a thousand words? Part 2

Worth a thousand words? asked readers to look at the following series of icons (taken from an active interface in a web/software product) and describe what type of function the user would expect to access after clicking on each:

In actuality, the icons (from left to right) are meant to be representative of a logical learning procedure, from reading about the particulars of a task (for example, "cut and paste text" in MS Word) to actually performing it in a training setting:

1. Prepare -- Information is presented on-screen as it would be in a study guide or text book. Students read an overview of the task, the various means of accomplishing it, and the advantages that the task provides.
   
2. Observe -- An animated video clip demonstrates step-by-step how to accomplish the task, with both an audio description (can be toggled on and off) and descriptive text in the event the sound is turned off or otherwise not available. The clip runs continuously from start to finish, though a VCR-type control can stop, revert to a previous step in the process, or skip to the next step.
   
3. Practice -- A self-paced version of the clip in "Observe," with accompanying call-out boxes that guide the user through each step of the process.
   
4. Apply -- The user is asked to actually perform the task based on commands generated by the system. The user is allowed a specific number of tries for each step, and the system provides feedback as to whether the steps have been performed successfully or unsuccessfully.
   
5. Exit -- Closes the content player window and ends the training session.

I suspected that at least 3 of the icons had a huge gap between the image and the function it represents, and the responses I received provide confirmation:

1. Pencil (Prepare) -- All responders expected this icon to lead them to an environment where they would be able to "write," "edit" or "draw" -- not read information off of a page.
   
2. Eye (Observe) -- One responder wasn't sure whether this was in fact an eye at all, but all expected to be able to "view," "preview," or "read" something. Technically speaking, this could be interpreted as being a successful representation of the function, but I would submit that an eye is far too abstract -- i.e., every facet of the content must be viewed in order to be useful, so why would an eye make particular sense here?
   
3. Hand/pen (Practice) -- Half of the respondents said they expected to "write" or "edit"; the other half thought the image was too similar to the first one to be of any descriptive use, which is another way of saying that it does a poor job of communicating the concept of practicing something.
   
4. Mouse (Apply) -- All respondents said that the icon indicated an action related to the mouse, either "move mouse," "drag-move," or "click here." Because actually performing the task(s) requires heavy use of the mouse, I would argue that the image might make a fairly good representation of the function, but that alternatives should be explored.
   
5. X (Exit) -- As one might expect, all respondents correctly identified this icon as a "close" or "quit" function.

Next time, my suggestions for changes -- though I would be greatly interested in (and grateful for) any suggestions or thoughts. As always, feel free to email me directly or send a comment using the link below.

Worth a thousand words?

Not quite a month into the new position, and already I'm being thrust head first into a number of facets of HFID. Among the projects I've been called in for varying degrees of consult, design and/or recommendation:

• Review and recommendation for an e-commerce environment
• Redesign of a content player
• Redesign of an LMS (learning management system)
• "Usability test" (really a series of user design feedback sessions) of a sub-site

Of these, the content player project provides my first opportunity for using the blog to hopefully gain some insight into an HF issue:

Most computer users are familiar with the many banks of icons featured in browsers and software applications, such as the following from Microsoft Word:

The power of good iconic representation is that it provides an instant visual cue for the functionality that it represents. Even someone not well-versed in Word should be able to determine that the second icon from the left represents Open a File, or that the second from the right represents Print. These are examples of icons with a good semantic distance (closeness between the image depicted in the icon and the function it is intended to represent).

The content player in question exists as part of an software package that helps instructors teach students how to use different software applications. By launching the player, students can view descriptions and demonstrations of tasks that aim to help them learn to use the application more easily.

Among its design features, the player has a bank of icons similar to that of MS Word. In offering design recommendations, I have to be able to provide some user-based rationale for either (a) keeping one or all of the icons as they are or (b) recommending alternatives.

So I put it to you, the readers . . .

What type of action does each of these icons represent?

Feel free to email me or post a comment directly to this blog entry. I'll reveal the answers in the next entry, as well as what readers have to say about them.

As always, my sincerest thanks in advance for your assistance.

The Musical Journey Shuffle, Part 2

In Part 1, I posed a question I pondered while doing some product development research for a recent client:

When listening to music, creating iPod playlists or compiling music CD's, are people more inclined to the "shuffle mode" (random generation of songs in a collection, creating a new listening experience each time) or to the "musical journey" (purposeful ordering of music in a way that is meaningful to the listener)?

I generated an online survey, sent it off to 30 people (with instructions to pass it on, if possible) and collected data over a bit more than a week. The questions attempted to gauge preferences across several different measures (musical tastes, listening habits, musical collections, etc.) that I hoped would provide some insight on the question posed above.

The results:

• A strong majority identify themselves as having "eclectic" musical tastes (rather than being limited to only a few genres), and as listening to a variety of radio stations (rather than sticking to one or two stations on the dial).
  
• A strong majority say they enjoy having many different genres of music in a single playlist/CD, rather than listening to a single genre at a time. When creating a playlist or CD, they say they prefer to include many different genres of music, rather than sticking to a single genre.
  
• A strong majority say they like to be surprised by the next song in a playlist, rather than knowing what comes next. However, about half say that they intentionally randomize songs and genres in playlists/CDs, while the other half say that they carefully order their music in a way that makes sense to them.
  
• Similarly, about half of respondents believe that the songs in their playlists/CDs follow a natural progression, while the other half compile playlists with little regard to order.
  
• A majority of respondents say that they don't like being "jarred" when a slow song is followed by a fast up tempo one (or vice versa); however, about the same number say that are indifferent to having a song be radically different from the one preceding or following it.
  
• Finally, a strong majority of iPod users surveyed (4 to 1) say they listen in shuffle mode more than 50% of the time, with half of those indicating that they listen in shuffle mode 80-100% of the time. However, while most couldn't venture a guess about the habits of family and friends, those that did estimated that family and friends listen in shuffle mode less than 50% of the time.

The first two bullet points weren't at all surprising -- it's almost expected that people consider themselves as having broad musical tastes and having listening habits that support them. Such data would seem to set the table for a preference toward "shuffle mode."

However, the next three bullets would seem to indicate that there is no clear cut preference for either practice. Even the iPod usage data in the last bullet is confounding -- it's almost as if users think that "shuffle mode" is a cool functionality that only they know how to use.

One conjecture was touched on in Part 1 -- that people do indeed take time to create "musical journeys," but mostly when they have a specific task or reason for doing so (to create a workout mix, mood music for a function, etc.). Otherwise, the explosion of iPod usage has made random generation of music from entire collections the favored choice for recreational, "non-task" listening.

Whatever the interpretation, it would seem that future developers of online music experience and delivery systems would do well to allow their users to do both, rather than emphasizing one over the other.

My sincerest thanks to all who participated.

The Musical Journey Shuffle, Part 1

In another life, I spent some time making money as a club deejay. Many factors contributed to my short stay in the field -- short money, bad hours, and overall lack of talent, among others. One in particular stands out, however -- it was pointed out more than once, by more experienced deejays, that I wasn't very good at creating the "musical journey."

According to this concept, you start from a musical Point A to a Point B, with each song feeding from and building on each other in a seamless flow of melody, rhythm and tempo. So, for example, Point A would be the unobtrusive music played as patrons arrived at the club, began ordering the first round, and scanned the club for new faces. The goal would be to take everyone steadily along for the ride to Point B, when the dance floor was in full swing, the waitstaff couldn't keep up with the drink orders, and the music ruled the room.

The musical journey is also prevelent in the way people made mix CDs and, now, make playlists -- aerobics instructors are notorious for this, starting the music at "warm up" and building a steady seamless journey up to "total impact," then down to "cool down." (Runners do this too.) I recently burned a CD that went from Lounge to Soul to Blues to Bluegrass to Folk/Pop to Classic Rock, all within 24 songs. (And the result wasn't bad -- my old DJ cohorts would be proud.) Listening to songs in a pre-programmed, "natural" order would appear to be the result of humans' innate urge to interpret and make sense of all experience.

What, then, to make of the popularity of "shuffle" mode?

"The Serendipity Shuffle," by Leong, Vetere, and Howard (2005), suggests that listening to familar songs in the context of "shuffle" mode helps facilitate serendipity (an instance of making fortunate discoveries by chance or accident). In effect, they say, shuffle mode creates a random event never before experienced by the user, allowing him/her to make new discoveries and unexpected connections to memory, sensation, emotion and environment in a way that is personally meaningful. While cautioning that such experiences cannot be determined solely through design, they maintain that a deeper understanding of serendipity and an emphasis on facilitating it through design will broaden the parameters for determining what constitutes a rich and satisfying user experience.

While doing some product development research for a recent client, I came across a lot of literature indicating that the future of online music delivery and experience will lie in the ability to help customers make more personally meaningful experiences through music -- which presumably would take on the dynamic of the musical journey rather than the shuffle mode.

While I would assume none of us prefers one over the other all of the time, I'm wondering which is the more viable concept that designers should be focusing on. Does our innate urge to create sense of the chaos tip the scales in favor of the musical journey? Or has shuffle mode so infiltrated our conciousness that randomness is now the preferred choice?

I'm planning on conducting a little informal survey of friends and family, iPod users all, to see what their opinions are. Results (whenever I can get them collected and analyzed) will be forthcoming in "Part 2."