“Growing up, and as far as I can recall, there was this massive edifice in the living room…Dad’s records.”
“It was a full bookshelf, about seven feet tall. I remember it being where all of these amazing sounds and images came from. From the Culture Club to the Beatles. Records! I could tell me father didn’t like me having free reign over what he obviously spent and great deal of time building, organizing, and maintaining. Of course, that made me want to get up in it even more, but I had to do it carefully, secretly, and above all, (very) respectfully. I treated these colourful twelve-inch squares each like fine works of art. My love and reverence for records was born.
My generation’s, well…that, was CD’s. I did the same as my father with my CD collection. Exactly the same. The same careful, alphabetical, fastidious organization. As a kid, whenever a little extra money showed itself, I’d always buy special records on vinyl, or take a day and go margin binning. Slowly building a little collection of my own.
After moving and hurriedly relocating a few times, the CDs got to be such a burden, in a moment of finical crisis and restlessness, I made the decision to go vinyl only! It was a bold move and I nearly wept as I saw my beloved CD’s being one by one placed into a box like little unloved children.
Luckily, the whole music buying public was on the same page for vinyl is back! I feel like, we’ll always want to hold what we own in our hands, if we can. When we listen to what we love, we want to be able to touch something as if to thank it. I don’t know.
I love buying records. I love returning home with a stack of new things to explore. I love how much more vinyl invites, almost demands your attention. It’s physical. You can hear it working. I’m now about to start deciding where to build a new record shelf for I’m officially out of room with my current ones.
Vinyl. Records. I love them.”