Is the album soon to be six feet under?

I would probably best describe the music my 19 year old brother blasts from his bedroom as, at the risk of sounding very old, "just noise".  Never an ideal supplement for a headache, a hundred times worse in the case of a hangover.  Very rarely are there any lyrics - the occasional yell, I suppose, but nothing really ever worth mentioning.

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We speak often about our differing musical tastes, what is good, what is not, where the industry is heading and what we can expect to see or hear in the near future. My inability to face facts about the relevancy of albums has been the core of many an argument, and I am reminded on an almost daily basis that my frequent purchasing of said item will inevitably become no longer possible in years to come.

In my dismissal of this sad reality, I have attempted to ignore reports of dilapidating album sales and the rise of a growing single-based culture, but there is no denying the fact that soon albums will indeed meet a sorry end, and unfortunately there is little we can do to stop it.

The Guardian reported on Tuesday that "30 million fewer albums were sold in the UK last year than there were in 2009",  with music lovers instead streaming an estimated 7.4 billion songs in 2013 on services like Spotify.  Head of Music at BBC Radio 1 and 1Xtra, George Ergatoudis comments that "in terms of creativity and musical statement, albums still have relevance and merit", but making a living out of music is far more difficult in an age where streaming has become the mass market.

The death of the album has been developing gradually "over about 10 years", according to music industry analyst Mark Mulligan, yet the birth of online services like Napster has instead allowed people to enjoy tracks "on their own terms".

Rather, we have entered into a playlist-dominated era with consumers "cherry-picking" their own musical selections and grouping them together under umbrellas of genre, mood or popularity.  People are granted the power of song choice and order of play depending on what they may be doing at that particular time.  Guardian journalist Harriet Walker argues that we are a part of the generation where you don't have to wade through the drudge to hear the good bits - "you are in charge, you decide exactly how much dross is in there," she says.

As an audience, we can break free from our role as spectators and creatively formulate, in one respect, our own piece of art inspired by the palette of the musicians we love the most.

With this in mind, if music is indeed a piece of 'art', it is also just as important that we are able to enjoy it in its intended, original condition. A painting does not offer onlookers the option of choosing a favourite 'chunk' to then disregard what is left over. Would it be normal for an audience to exclusively watch the best scenes of a film without seeing the rest?

Streaming services and playlists are and will continue to grow as dominant aspects of the music industry; to deny it would be a waste of your time. If you can embrace such a change, I applaud you.  But its contagious appeal won't stop me buying albums, not until they're officially six feet under. And even then, I'll be dancing to the best ones at the wake.

So, you've finished University. What now?

If you've just completed your degree – congratulations! Not everybody that started managed to finish, so count yourself as part of the special club that did.

There are few sensations in life that I can compare to typing the last word of my dissertation or completing my final exam. As peculiar as it sounds, they are challenges I would be more than willing to undertake again purely for the unique feeling that washes over you as you compose that final sentence.

I recall whinging at the prospect of waking up each morning and trudging to the library rain or shine to endure an eight-or-nine hour day staring into my laptop screen, and hoping in one way or another it would prove beneficial in my quest to seem smart. Two months on and I actually miss it – strange, don’t you think?

This entire academic year in actual fact undertook an odd countdown-like structure as a result of an underlying yet constant fear of finishing University and wondering what in the hell would come afterwards. Back at home that fear has worsened, amplified by friends' parents and parents' friends who ask the infamous question of "what are you going to do now?"

It is nearly always the same questions which are asked, with nearly always the same answers which are given as a reply - a conversation I almost have rehearsed. Its de ja vu nature is often enough to make you want to shoot yourself in the face, and the response of "I'm not sure just yet" is also guaranteed to raise a few eyebrows.

It's a scary old place to be, and right now I feel like I'm in the thick of it. But there is light at the end of the tunnel, and I know I'll find my feet one way or another.

I'll continue to live the façade with my student discount in Topshop, but University life is finished, and like a tragic break-up we've somehow got to get over it.

Tissue, anyone?