FollowFinding my favorite records for less than $10 feels like winning the lottery. Hearing the needle touch the wax, mimicking the sound of crackling firewood, and running my fingers along the crinkled cardboard art cover gives me a giddy feeling.
It’s almost orgasmic to be sonically and physically surrounded by music. It keeps me eager to discover new genres I would usually never lend my ear to, revisit classics I listened to in my high school angst days, and push my musical comfort zone. I didn’t pick up Who’s Zoomin’ Who? by Aretha Franklin because I have a fetish for soul singers trying to stay relevant and adapting in the ‘80s, but because it’s experimental and new.
How boring would it be if I just listened to Dark Side of the Moon or Houses of the Holy for the ten billionth time? Even if the record I blindly picked up isn’t good, good. Now I know which artist or genre to avoid.
It’s not the same to turn to the Internet to dig for music.
It’s too easy. Too predictable.
There’s always going to be bitter reviews or skewed critics to debase a work, subconsciously manipulating my view on the record. But coming out of the record shop with an unknown record is like opening the wrapper of a mystery flavored Dum Dums. Why not be surprised? Crate digging gives me the option to explore without a cloud of nasty YouTube comments or scathing Pitchforks reviews muddling my mind and ears.
I know it sounds like I’m cheapening the value of the Internet, but if anything, it’s the best tool to find new music. Most of the music I know and love was found through the Internet. It is the most convenient, and overall best, route for playing music.
But going to pick up a vinyl for a dollar and having the needle push out noise for two sides is an experience. Pushing the play button on iTunes and zoning out to whatever else I was doing feels fake to me sometimes. There are times I want to play D.I.T.C. while I fold my laundry, but then there are times I want to play the record, sit back, and listen to it in its entirety. That’s when vinyl becomes useful. Even if people tell me I’m wasting money on records, it will never take away the first time I listened to Cannoball Adderley seep out of my minor-league speakers and send a spasm of shivers down my spine.
I can’t tell you how much mileage I have on my records, spinning them on my dinky record player and shitty bookshelf speakers. Crate digging and collecting records are my addictions. Every weekend, I’ll flip through records for hours. It’s a great hobby to pick up and unveil your musical appetite.
Sources: Thevinylfactory.com, Antisteez.com
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