Recorded Music Purists

You may listen to this lovely song while reading, if you wish. I would recommend it.

Today I woke up to a seemingly ordinary day; yet, when I arrived downstairs, I did a double take when I noticed my dad's record player in the living room. Now I've seen his record player before, it's not like he keeps it hidden. However, it's always hooked up to his laptop. It is there where he takes his enviable collection of vinyl and burns them onto his iTunes. He's even burned a few (crackly and prone to skipping) CDs of The Doors for me. But this was the first time I'd seen the record player hooked up to speakers, and man, did I eyeball that thing like it was a shiny piece of candy.

Never before have I played an album on a record player. It was quite a novelty: setting up the needle and hearing the fuzz before the boom of the music comes in through the speakers excited me as much as a child gets excited on Christmas morning. I've always heard the protests that vinyl sounds so much better than everything new and shiny and digital, and though maybe my excitement over-hyped the experience, I'm not saying it wasn't incredibly enjoyable. It was charming, really, from the presentation to the performance. As a person who only briefly got into the iPod era (one iPod Mini, very few downloads, and a revert back to CDs) I was enthusiastic about the tangibility of it all, the bigness, the artwork, and the feeling like I was touching a preserved artifact.

I first listened to The Jukes by my dad's favorite Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes. Woah blues, woah vocals, woah horns. And that crackling sound that vinyl makes as background noise? More mysterious, really, than anything.

Then I pulled out The Jimi Hendrix Experience's Electric Ladyland. Oh my. I swear I sat on the couch for all of side B staring at the ceiling. My mother came in and asked me if I was high. "Only on Jimi," I thought. The crackling here gave way to a more psychedelic feel; character, I suppose, is a word to describe it. The highlight for me was of course All Along the Watchtower- it's what had to compensate for my dad not owning any Dylan records.

Next came the Stones' compilation album "Made in the Shade." I had fun trying to imitate Jagger's wail on "Aaaangie. Aaaaaaaaan-geh." I failed.

After my Stones sampling I found the debut album from The Cars which pleased me immensely, and didn't disappoint. Holy man do the synths (or whatever it is they're using- some keyboard settings? I don't know) shine through. I just wanted to get up and dance the Molly Ringwald 80's dance, but refrained because I was not by myself in the house.

Last but not least I popped in (is this the right terminology for records? It is for CDs, but you can't really "pop" a record in anywhere. I guess I just set it down and spun it.) Elvis Costello's debut, My Aim is True. This was the only record where I hadn't really heard any of the songs (though I recognized Blame it on Cain in the first few notes of the verse) and I didn't really know what to expect. But I was pleasantly surprised. These songs rocked. This album rocked. Elvis Costello rocked (he still does). This is just great rock and roll music with a great energy. The opener got me going from the start, really hyping you up for what's to come. Oh, and the vocals. AND THE VOCALS. They were not diminished by vinyl, that is for sure. Can't really say much more about them, though, to be honest, though I might compare them to a punch in the gut. The best punch in the gut of your life.

So that was my day. The only disappointment I have is that my father hasn't hooked this up before today. Playing the vinyl for real far outshines burning them onto CDs or smooshing them into mp3s to stick on your iPod. The downfall is that I'll waste an immeasurable amount of time trying to go through 4 crates of classic vinyl records; ha, if that's my biggest downfall, then I have no downfalls at all.