The Big Bad, by The Big Bad. 2016, age 44.
I grew up on vinyl. My brothers, 15 and 13 years older than me, were already avid rock and roll fans by the time I'd come along. The first album I remember hearing (and seeing) was The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.
Growing up I listened to every record they owned: The Beatles "Red," "Blue," and "White" albums; Abraxas; Electric Warrior; Band on the Run; Houses of the Holy; Never Mind the Bollocks; London Calling; 1999; Mott the Hoople Greatest Hits; The Name of This Band is Talking Heads; Bella Donna; A Night at the Opera; more Bowie, more T. Rex, more Zeppelin, more Beatles, some Stones . . . a bit of everything.
My parents were older and their tastes reflected it. They didn't have a lot of records, but the ones they had were important: Hank Williams 40 Greatest Hits, Nat "King" Cole's Unforgettable, some big band stuff.
The first record I bought (at 8-years-old) was The Beatles' Story, which is more of a sound documentary than a music record. (My twin sister bought The Muppet Movie Soundtrack, arguably a more important musical choice.) Something New was my second record. Later came LOTS of Prince records (usually bought the day of their release), The Time, Duran Duran, Heart, and all kinds of 80s goodies.
Then I got "serious" about music and bought hard-to-get jazz records. Blue Train was the first jazz album I bought on a reborn Blue Note label in the mid-eighties.
In college, we played "drop the needle" in saxophone masterclass and had listening parties with other music nerds. My roommate Eric, took me to the Princeton Record Exchange when I went home with him to New Jersey. We'd come back to school with armloads of experimental classical music, folk and world music on Nonesuch, and tons of jazz. I'd also grab a few rock-and-roll records.
After I got married (the first time), I'd make a point of visiting the used record stores in every town where we vacationed. I'd hit them up in Chicago, the Lower East Side, Memphis, and New Orleans. Lots in New Orleans.
Somehow, I ended up with a couple thousand records.
I mean, it didn't keep me from buying CDs. And cassette tapes -- though that format was more for making mixes for others. And then downloading digital music when all that happened.
When I got divorced, my wife let me keep all the vinyl. I had a turntable, but I didn't make it out with the stereo. I had all these treasures and no way to enjoy them.
I moved around with all of it. You wanna know how committed you are to vinyl, move a few times with a couple thousand LPs.
All of the sudden, I had a new family and all this stuff.
I had a small portable record player -- very retro, except that it is probably actually from about 1976 -- but what I didn't know what that turntables from that era won't play microgrooves on newer albums. I could play original Stevie Wonder through the tiny speakers, but not anything after about 1985.
And I kept buying new vinyl. Stuff by new favorite bands like The Cryptkeeper Five and Harley Poe. And some old vinyl. Which made no sense because I had no way to hear it. I just knew I eventually would.
A little over a month ago, I decide to organize my home studio. I also decided to find a way to listen to my turntable through the board and speakers I use for playing keyboards. I got everything hooked up just right and then went to put on my first record.
The stylus was broken. (For you youngsters, the stylus is the needle that transmits the vibration from the groove of the record to the amplification system.)
So I ordered one.
It came in today.
There is something so different about listening to an album on vinyl. Yeah, I think it probably sounds a little better, but that may be mostly imagination. I'm not sure.
But putting on a 12-inch platter, dropping the needle, sinking into a chair, looking at the jacket, reading the notes in a readable font size . . .
Somehow, I ended up with a couple thousand records.
I mean, it didn't keep me from buying CDs. And cassette tapes -- though that format was more for making mixes for others. And then downloading digital music when all that happened.
When I got divorced, my wife let me keep all the vinyl. I had a turntable, but I didn't make it out with the stereo. I had all these treasures and no way to enjoy them.
I moved around with all of it. You wanna know how committed you are to vinyl, move a few times with a couple thousand LPs.
All of the sudden, I had a new family and all this stuff.
I had a small portable record player -- very retro, except that it is probably actually from about 1976 -- but what I didn't know what that turntables from that era won't play microgrooves on newer albums. I could play original Stevie Wonder through the tiny speakers, but not anything after about 1985.
And I kept buying new vinyl. Stuff by new favorite bands like The Cryptkeeper Five and Harley Poe. And some old vinyl. Which made no sense because I had no way to hear it. I just knew I eventually would.
A little over a month ago, I decide to organize my home studio. I also decided to find a way to listen to my turntable through the board and speakers I use for playing keyboards. I got everything hooked up just right and then went to put on my first record.
The stylus was broken. (For you youngsters, the stylus is the needle that transmits the vibration from the groove of the record to the amplification system.)
So I ordered one.
It came in today.
There is something so different about listening to an album on vinyl. Yeah, I think it probably sounds a little better, but that may be mostly imagination. I'm not sure.
But putting on a 12-inch platter, dropping the needle, sinking into a chair, looking at the jacket, reading the notes in a readable font size . . .
The first record I selected was The Big Bad. It happens to be a record by a band I play in.
The last time I could listen to vinyl on a stereo, I couldn't have had that experience. It makes me feel really good.
I think it's going to be a late night.
No comments:
Post a Comment