While my first physical media love was probably DVDs, the one that means the most to me are vinyl records. I got into vinyl collecting when I was in college, buying a record player with speakers and a plastic tote filled with records from someone off craigslist in the summer of 2006. Bringing the record player and a few records back to my dorm in college was a great way to get conversations about music going. In the age of the iPod, it made the album matter.
One thing I love about albums on vinyl is that for a long time, roughly 1967-1990, the album was the way pop music was presented to the public. Things shifted towards singer-songwriters, and the organizing of different songs into play order mattered more and more, since music releases were less about one song on either side. Concept albums began to emerge, pop music got more and more complex. While I have been a heavy playlist maker since I started burning CDs in high school, I still love engaging with albums as an entire suite of music.
While I could connect any number of devices to my pretty nice living room speakers, listening to records on vinyl also involve the physical act of interacting with the album’s artwork, placing it on the turntable, and moving the needle. Actively listening for the last song on that side of the record. Some albums that I’ve recently acquired on vinyl exemplify this. Remain in Light by Talking Heads (one of my favorite bands) sees the band evolve their sound from their first three albums and break new ground, but it’s never been my favorite of theirs. Yet listening to it as a whole piece, with a gap in the middle to flip the record over, it has come alive to me on vinyl it a way it never has before. There is a tension in the repetitive nature of some of the songs, a controlled chaos that gives it a vibrancy 42 years on. Similarly, Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino, the Arctic Monkey’s 2018 album unfolds even further on vinyl, the act of the record spinning acting as a transportive link between the new music and the influence of late 60s and 70s sounds. As my friend Mathilda wrote recently, “every track is its own vehicle, each song a tool for [Alex} Turner’s rhetoric.”
As my love of soundtracks continues to grow, I’ve been picking up vintage ones, mostly from discogs or randomly flipping through bins at record stores and yard sales. As a lover of movies, these soundtracks remind me of a time when the best way to experience a movie after seeing it was a record. When I play All That Jazz, Married to the Mob, or The Great Muppet Caper, I’m interacting with the movie in a different way. It’s keeping those feelings alive between the times I’m able to see the movies. Not to mention that movie scores, jazz, and classical music are my preferred writing underscore.
Another reason I love vinyl records is that they are heavy and take up space. At this point, I have about 400 that I’ve acquired over the last 16 years, and I’m close to trying to cap that number. They are spread across three locations in my house, and I try to ro
tate through them. I’ve traded in ones that I no longer feel the need to own, and will continue to curate this collection as a representative sample of favorite music. Owning a vinyl record is special and will mean something to me, ideally above just liking the music on it.
This ties into one of the reasons I still try and buy vintage records. I love the continuity of ownership. My original collection was augmented by the records my parents still had from before they switched to CDs around the time I was born (I do not remember them playing records at home). So when I listen to the score to Star Trek: The Motion Picture, or several Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen, or Fleetwood Mac records, I feel connected to my parents. Especially my dad in the case of Star Trek. My mom’s copy of Let It Be has the newspaper clipping about The Beatles breaking up inside too. My musical taste goes all over the place, but the core of it is their taste. The classic rock I was raised on drew on all kinds of musical styles and genres, and I feel like it gave me a firm foundation for all the music I love today. That influence continues, and listening to their records keeps me connected to them across time and space. Records are timeless, and I’m glad they are popular again, even if the hobby has gotten ridiculously expensive over the last few years.