the romance of the artifact
since doc's records materialized within walking distance of mi casa, i've been thankin' a lot about my own vinyl fetishism and how selective it truly is. not just for economic reasons, i don't feel tempted to try replacing all my cd's with vinyl -- there are some favorite albums that are legitimately enhanced in their cd forms (live at leeds, f'rinstance, or the great concert of charles mingus, or howlin' wolf's moanin' in the moonlight).
also a consideration is how i initially encountered the music, which is why i passed on a vinyl copy of elvis' sun sessions i stumbled on at hpb a few months back (since i first got into sun elvis via cd and lotsa nyquil during a bout of flu ca. '97). there are even -- gasp! -- albums i first experienced (or have listened to the most) via digital download or in itunes.
this is also making me think about what my relationship with music was like before everything by everybody wasn't so readily available. a lot of bands i liked back when i was a snotnose had skimpy release schedules, and their stuff wasn't always generally available, making anything you could lay hands on muy desirable. in the fullness of time, i've developed a better idea of what i can and can't live without. there are certain key albums that i feel compelled to own on vinyl (electric ladyland, say) while i'm perfectly happy to listen to the rest of their creators' output in some digital format.
all that said, i'm no longer trawling for stuff online the way i'd become accustomed to, now that i'm a ten-minute walk away from crate-digging with a high probability of unearthing a lot of stuff i'll want. an exciting (and dangerous) prospect.
also a consideration is how i initially encountered the music, which is why i passed on a vinyl copy of elvis' sun sessions i stumbled on at hpb a few months back (since i first got into sun elvis via cd and lotsa nyquil during a bout of flu ca. '97). there are even -- gasp! -- albums i first experienced (or have listened to the most) via digital download or in itunes.
this is also making me think about what my relationship with music was like before everything by everybody wasn't so readily available. a lot of bands i liked back when i was a snotnose had skimpy release schedules, and their stuff wasn't always generally available, making anything you could lay hands on muy desirable. in the fullness of time, i've developed a better idea of what i can and can't live without. there are certain key albums that i feel compelled to own on vinyl (electric ladyland, say) while i'm perfectly happy to listen to the rest of their creators' output in some digital format.
all that said, i'm no longer trawling for stuff online the way i'd become accustomed to, now that i'm a ten-minute walk away from crate-digging with a high probability of unearthing a lot of stuff i'll want. an exciting (and dangerous) prospect.
posted by stashdauber at 10:58 PM
3 Comments:
The hunt is definitely half the fun of digging for "lost jewels". Try not getting addicted, though, or you may end up on the business end of an intervention and talked into joining an AA (Albumholics Anonymous) group...
The excitement of crate digging is finding those "lost jewels" that you weren't looking for originally. It's like walking into a library for those of us who dislike reading, the smell of vinyl and nostalgia is wonderful.
exciting like the day i was on the music floor of the TCU library and found both Nina Simone's debut album and a Ralph Lundsten release on the "Free--Please Take" table. yeah, it happened.
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