Recently, I was able to de-mothball a stereo my mom had purchased nearly 30 years ago. It was from JCPenny’s and was one of those “all-in-one” units. The radio, functions (equalizer), cassette tape player and 8-track player were all contained within one ‘box,’ cleverly disguised to look like several components. Only the turntable and speakers were separate.
I actually still have albums – been carting them around for WAY too long – and I pulled out some to play. One group of vinyl had, at some point, gotten wet, so that in addition to the obligatory Colorado dust I had to remove for playing, some records actually had to be de-molded.
I somehow managed to locate my Disc Washer – essentially a piece of wood with velour used to pull dust and other stuff off of the records so they play better. (The Washer is held so that the record moves against the nape of the velour and all the gunk gets caught in the fabric.) Some records were remarkable free of dust and others, well let’s just say that the black velour was turned gray.
The music…was sublime. I had forgotten the hiss and pop I had come to accept and even fold into the music. Like a percussionist that adds to a track after it is finished, the sound of a needle passing over a vinyl disc is as distinctive as the gravel in your uncle's voice as he tells you, for the 20th time, that story about the bear they saw at the lake when you were kids.
I even managed to find several 45's I had purchased, thinking at the time, that I would need to find these songs in some format or I would loose them forever.
And that is the most facinating part of this. Today, with the largest iPod out there, you could literally, aside from power issues, listen to music non-stop for days, weeks, or even months.
However, with a record, you get, at best, 25 minutes of music before you have to get up, turn the thing over and play the other side.
And we used to do this. And gladly.
The first record I bought was Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon. The first cd I bought was, you guessed it, Dark Side of the Moon.
I went from listening to half the album, to being able to listen to the entire album, crystal clear, to being able to listen to the entire Pink Floyd catalogue in any order I want.
What's all this mean? I don't want to sound like some old fogey decrying the decline of civilization because "kids today" have it so easy, having their entire music collection literally at their fingertips.
No, what I find interesting is that music, in 20 minute blocks - or if you like, 4 minutes jabs my parents had when they were kids, listening to one song records - actually helped foster communication. By having that time between album sides, we talked about what we heard.
These days? If it's not ear buds that block out the world, it's a Bluetooth headset that keeps people at arms' distance and creates just one more buffer between us humans and give us one less opportunity to engage with the world.
