I am up at 6:30 in the morning on a Saturday, not because I haven't made it to bed yet, but because I literally just opened my eyes thinking about record store day. I can't believe how little kid excited I am! Normally when things start getting more popular and ridiculous year after year, i.e. SXSW, I eventually give myself up to the heartbreak that it's over. But with record store day becoming more of a thing the special releases are amped up and blowing my mind in 2015. I give this one more year before I start to lose interest in a bunch of RayBans standing in line to buy an $80 record for a band they've never heard just because the vinyl is blue and it showed up in a TED Talks--and corporate sponsors are already happening--and Forbes even has an article on it--but let me enjoy this feeling while it lasts.
Everyone who knows me has heard me call any music-no matter the format-a record. Cassettes, CDs, MP3s. They're all records to me even though I didn't really grow up in the age of vinyl, but my Dad was in the industry so it's what I know. I had records when I was little, but about the time that I could really buy music and get interested it was all on cassette. And then CDs hit in my teen years and it was basically all over. But I was always the one in Chucks and band shirts, pouring over old vinyl and warping my cassettes with never ending rewinds.
I raged against itunes, MP3s-all things "ghost" music for the longest time. I couldn't touch them or smell them or hold the liner notes. I got shredded for carrying CDs around in my purse. In fact, there are four in my bag right now, and if I had a reason to carry LPs around I would. But I don't have a record player in my car.
It's because I have to have a full tactile experience. It's like talking on the phone with someone you're in love with. The feeling their voice puts in your gut, and then the urge that you have to touch them-talking just isn't enough. That's what I go through with every bit of music I hear. *Even that time I bought Eamon, "I Don't Want You Back".* I love peeling back the plastic, the way it clings to your skin when you try to discard it, the smell of the shiny paper and plastic and acetate. It's distinct like new car or fresh cut grass. The way your fingers leave a mark on the dark paper when you hold the liner notes too long. (But I have to know where track 4 was mastered because it was done somewhere else! And who is doing the harmonizing on track 7 because I never read Florence Welch worked on this...) How you let the vinyl just kind of rest horizontally between your palms because under no circumstances should you grip it. The white noise that happens when you put the needle down.
I finally broke and got an ipod three years ago, when the ipod "classic" was re-introduced. It was terrifying and confusing and I felt like I was somehow being disloyal to something. It was heavy in my hand and it didn't smell like anything at all. I panicked a little. So I returned it and got a shuffle instead. It's still an ipod, but at least it's minimalist in that it is only about the music and not television or podcasts or status.
Now all new vinyl releases come with a ticket to download the record via whatever digital outlet you may be using. So when I had to explain to my 7 year old niece what my turntable was, I handed her my shuffle and said, "It's this, but for cool kids." It's a smart move for the industry and a perfect compromise for me. I can have my records, and hear them too. And maybe go through a day without hearing how behind I am. Until this time in 2016 when a 22 year old acts surprised that an old lady has a record collection.
So I'm off to add to it and celebrate some neighborhood heroes. I might even wait in line for an in-store. Because next year I'll probably avoid the bandwagon and just throw a party at home.
Come on over.
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