Vinyl

There is nothing more satisfying than the crackle of the needle on vinyl. It is the sound of something big about to happen. It is the satisfying sound of perfect imperfection opening the way for you to hear. This is no soulless crystal-clear musical production.  Ironically, I can remember first hearing that crackle when listening to the Classic Vinyl station on satellite radio. That was surely not the real thing. It was sort of high tech, low tech. For me, though, it was revolutionary and felt authentic and real. The subtle details and notes from a guitar become easier to pick up on and the muffled sound coming from the speaker every now and then reminds me that an actual band recorded this album, not a mashup of different electronic beats.

Let’s talk about the technical details. Listening to music in an analog world is much more hands on. In fact, actually starting the music is a delicate process. You can’t be too rough with the stylus or you will ruin the record. But you have to be assertive and quick so you are able to get the needle on the vinyl just as the song is about to start.  It’s an intimidating step (at least at first), but the payoff is rich.

My dad is the one who introduced me to different types of music. I was eight years old with no knowledge of what actually sounded good. Before this, all I had was my sister brainwashing me into liking the music on Radio Disney. Because of my dad, instead of Kanye West, Eminem, or even Justin Timberlake, I was listening to The Grateful Dead and Bruce Springsteen. I vividly remember being in the car with my sister and my dad on the way home from middle school one day. A song was playing on the radio, and he turned back and asked us if we knew what song it was. I had no idea what song it was and not a clue what band was playing. But I badly wanted to impress my dad and seem more knowledgeable than my sister. So just as he looked back at the road, I glanced to the screen in the front and read aloud, “Two by Ryan Adams.” I could sense that my dad was proud.

When my parents bought me my own turntable three years ago, my dad was excited to retrieve his old records that were buried in the basement of my grandmother’s house. It was like a rock and roll resurrection, and we were bringing that musical world back to life. I can’t even remember how many times I have heard the story of my dad listening to his favorite albums Born to Run and Skull and Roses over and over again in his room. He listened on his own, with his friends, with his sister. As much as I never wanted to hear that story ever again, I felt like I wanted to experience what he experienced.

I wish I could have been around for albums such as Dark Side of the Moon or Exile on Main Street. For me, it was the essential age of rock music. I remember listening to the album Who’s Next for the first time. I turned up the volume and just listened. Pete Townshend’s epic guitar filled the room and my mind. I could feel his pick hitting the strings of his guitar as he elegantly strummed to the tune of “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” These days, most people don’t listen to full albums; they listen to individual songs. Listening to a full album on vinyl is a revelation. You are making a commitment to begin a musical journey. A performance of related songs with highs and lows and crescendos.

The actual physical album was far from perfect. The grooves were worn down and there were noticeable scratches. But they sounded real, with all their flaws. Somehow the joy of a shared discovery from a long time ago had become part of that vinyl disc. It is an authentic, rich experience that isn’t always available with the push of a button or swipe of a screen. Sometimes you have to wear down some grooves and scratch your favorite album to actually get there.