For more years than I like to recall I’ve spent my allowance money on
vinyl recordings.
One of the few things I’ve hung on too for so many years and several
moves. Special boxes were purchased to keep them in place and alphabetized in
order to find the perfect tune at the perfect time. Special spinning equipment
was purchased and cables and wires attached to power machines that pumped the
sound into giant speakers.
When Peaches Records went out of business so did I on the purchases of
duplicates and cheap vinyl of songs I really didn’t like, but I kept these
plastic discs in the best shape I knew how.
I found out from my audio-head friends there were special covers and
sleeves and cleaners and there was an art of handling a disc was like pouring a
fine cognac.
So placing a vinyl disk on a spindle was more than grabbing the surface
and slapping it until the needled bounced across the surface.
After a series of players from plastic toys to oriental wonders, the
grooves filled the air. People would dance and the needle would jump and people
would drink and the needle would dance and candles would burn and wax would be
added to the vinyl.
Over the years, many were declared beyond the attempt to save while
others on later review were sold or given away due to misunderstanding of what
was being listened to have not withstood the test of time.
When CDs came out, the vinyl was stored away. A few were duplicated but
the sound just wasn’t right. The fat sound of vinyl had been compressed and many
times re-mastered. In between I’d make a bunch of mix-tapes recording my
favorite vinyl hits onto cassettes. It was time consuming but I had an easy way
to carry tunes to work and dup for others.
Finally the cassettes, as with any tape, was wearing out so I digitized
as many as I could before they went to the landfill. Now I have a fileserver
filled with 4th, 5th, 6th and maybe more
generations of recordings made from any variety of live or duplicated machines
and regenerated in new variations. For the aficionado the replication of sound
may be offensive, but it works for me.
Meanwhile the vinyl sits in their dusty teak cases awaiting review again
but only after the floors is redone and the stereo can be hooked up again.
Hopefully by springtime the doors will slide open revealing some classics that
have been out-of-print for eons.
They will be gently removed out of their paper and cardboard covers and
handled with care. These are now works of art, many first pressings of some of
my favorite songs.
The collection has been reduced to only ‘the best’ each with a special
memory in time and space. I’ll get lost in the sound while reading all the
words in type sizes I can read on the cardboard covers wrapped with pictures
and notes that the producer or the artist or the manufacturer wanted or was
required to print. The album was a total package of photos, information to be shared
while the music played. The cover was also a good platform to roll joints.
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