Meet Rosie. She’s our new record player. Really, I don’t typically name inanimate objects around the house, but this is a member of our family. We welcomed her home a couple weeks ago and Mike and I were so happy to have her. We’re anticipating a long and happy life together.
So you might be wondering: Why would you want a record player? (Dead technology, much?!)
Let me explain.
Somewhere over the years, I lost my love for music. Sure, I was still a passive-listener; I mostly tuned in to the local top 40 station and sang along to the latest pop or hip-hop that was popular. I liked it because it was perky and dance-able. I might even buy a track or two on iTunes or Amazon from time to time, but I couldn’t identify for you any of my favorite artists or genres because I just listened to whatever was being spoon-fed to me.
Mike is a musician (a drummer and guitarist) and when we started dating again, he started exposing me to music that I’d largely ignored. He’s more of a hard rock and metal guy much of the time, but he also loves some country and folk music as well. He taught me to start really listening again, not just to the electronically-generated beats and gimmicky, auto-tuned lyrics, but to the individual instruments being played.
He also taught me to appreciate albums as a total package: not just the tracks released as singles, but to look at the album as a whole, including even the album art as a piece carefully created to convey a cohesive artistic vision. I have all but stopped buying individual MP3s online, instead opting to buy the entire CD and rip it if I choose to put it on my iPod too.
Which brings me to how we came to have Rosie the record player: We were at a local shop that sells used movies, video games, and music last week. I was surprised to discover they had a lot of old and new vinyl albums, and I started sifting through them out of curiousity. About halfway through the table, I had this moment – it was literally an emotional wave that left me warm all over — I realized how good it felt to be standing there, bobbing my head to the music that was playing on the sound system in the store (Red Hot Chilli Peppers) and flipping through these big, beautiful LPs. They smelled good, they had beautiful album art, and the tactile experience of holding one in your hand far outweighed what digital recording ever could elicit. It’s a much more visceral and organic experience than this musical virtual reality that my generation has come to know and accept. It felt grounding, and GOOD.
Don’t get me wrong — Rosie ain’t your grandma’s record player. She also has a USB port and SD card slot so that you can play your album and record it to an MP3 file at the same time. I see it as the best of both worlds: the LP to enjoy at home and the MP3 file to enjoy on your iPod or smartphone when you’re out and about.
Let’s face it, acquiring music in any format is still consumerism, not a religious experience. But I think art and music really have a lot of power beyond lining the pockets of record companies, and I felt that as I sifted through those vinyl treasures.
