Spin the black circle
It was nice walking into the tiny record store and perusing the new and used stuff inside. Buying the LP of something I got a couple years ago on CD on its release date was throwback-y satisfying. Even more smile inducing was getting the audiophile re-press of a record I had for decades then bought the CD when it was finally released in that format. Better still was buying the new reissue of a record I played to death, giving the worn-out copy to a friend when I saw it was reissued way back when yet kicking myself because the reissue was simply the two LPs stuffed into a single sleeve bereft of the tri-fold jacket, art and lyrics of the original. I had gotten the CD when it finally came out, of course. The reissue on the 40th anniversary brought back the original jacket style and art, plus 180g discs that sound fantastic. Said records became a nice little break as we've been unpacking things, getting the house back in shape and doing other everyday tasks.
I have terabytes of music ripped from my CDs and other sources ready to play at the clicking of some buttons. I can play a small batch of music and not hear the same song for weeks. Many of these are high-resolution tracks that exceed the fidelity of CDs by a factor of four or more. Convenience rules the day. Yet nothing can compare to playing records. I have to get up every now and then to turn the records over or change them lest I be greeted by silence. It feels like an event, an actual performance. There's no handling a digital file and reading the liner notes. There is also the unmistakeable smell of records that can never be duplicated.
Life sounds good.
I have terabytes of music ripped from my CDs and other sources ready to play at the clicking of some buttons. I can play a small batch of music and not hear the same song for weeks. Many of these are high-resolution tracks that exceed the fidelity of CDs by a factor of four or more. Convenience rules the day. Yet nothing can compare to playing records. I have to get up every now and then to turn the records over or change them lest I be greeted by silence. It feels like an event, an actual performance. There's no handling a digital file and reading the liner notes. There is also the unmistakeable smell of records that can never be duplicated.
Life sounds good.