Records--you remember them if you're of a certain age.
And if you're younger than that, you may have noticed that sales of vinyl recordings are up rather significantly, perhaps because you have started buying them lately--perhaps in rebellion against the churlish nature of the recording industry and its "digital rights management" drones.
I'm in both camps. I have a lot of old vinyl lying around. I think the last LP I bought brand new was by a band called "Crowded House" back in the eighties and it is better not spoken of. But there are literally about a ton of classics in the collection as well.
The other day I bought a substantially produced re-issue of a vinyl recording by The Smiths. I placed it on a turntable and marveled. The platter spun, the mechanical arm gently floated over to the beginning of the first track--a slight hiss--and then: wonderful sound! So much richer, even on a pieced-together mess of a stereo system, than from a CD or an MP3 or 4 or whatever latest, least-lossy format our chipmakers have invented.
I am finding old LPs in great condition at cheap prices all over. And sure, I bought a turntable that can turn them into iPod-ready digital candy. But that's not the news. The news is that, due to a number of factors like: "I bought it, I own it and I can lend it and record it a thousand times and do whatever the hell I want with it including sell it to a used record store"; and "Holy crap, this sounds fantastic"; and perhaps most pleasantly: "there's something wonderful about watching an actual machine--with little wavy lines engraved in plastic and a tiny needle picking up vibrations--function before your very eyes like some strange jurassic denizen sprung suddenly to life in the full, colorful vitality of its youth", I am unlikely ever to spend much more than a pittance on either CDs or iTunes.
Or maybe I am thinking of my own youth. I don't know.
There is also substantial sensory pleasure in handling vinyl albums, in dusting them and blowing on them, in looking at album cover art and liner notes and inner sleeves and often enough, gratuitous "stuff" (posters, postcards, lyric sheets) that used to be tossed in with no particular fanfare.
Armed with my MP3 turntable, I never need worry about some stupid message from iTunes about where the song I bought "belongs" or ever worry that somehow it might be "withdrawn" the way Amazon recently "withdrew" some digital files from some folks' Kindles. Oh, and by the way, I own lots of actual books, too. I carry them around and read them. Shocking!
