“As I write, I am sitting in my Iowa cabin, listening to a Simon and Garfunkel record. It’s morning, and light is peeking across the corn fields through the East-facing octagonal window to my right.”
“I began collecting vinyl eleven years ago. The first record I bought was Licensed To Ill by The Beastie Boys, which still gets a lot of rotation. I remember digging through my mama’s records and pulling out Rhymes and Reasons by John Denver, with a weathered little piece of paper taped to the front that reads “Billie,” my mother’s name. She listened to it frequently as a kid, and it now holds a prized position in my collection. It’s interesting how all the CDs I collected through my teenage years have all but disintegrated, but this record still sounds vibrant.
What I love most about vinyl is the deliberate nature of the medium. It takes effort, thought, and energy. The required intention makes the experience more valuable and memorable. It’s big, and it feels like something, like a real piece of art. We’re in an age of streaming, where music has become less tangible. You don’t even have to download anything anymore. Where there used to be a square foot of infinite artistic possibility is now an abstract idea that comes and goes so easily that it has no value. A record is a big, beautiful object that feels good to hold in your hands. The sound of vinyl is organic, earthy, and human.