“My earliest memories of vinyl happened to be some of my most vivid and cherished childhood memories. Without a doubt, my favorite memories of my father involve vinyl. My dad had an old wicker crate that he kept all his records in. It consisted mainly of classic rock, nothing too out there but classics nonetheless. I remember opening it up to flip through the album art and inspect the intricate and unique inserts. I can even recall pulling the vinyl out of the sleeve and tracing my finger along the grooves, trying to wrap my head around how that could possibly produce sound.”
“Growing up, every night after my parents would put my sister and me to bed. My dad would pour himself a drink, dim the lights in our den, and listen to his record collection for hours to unwind in solitude. I would lay in my bed as long as I could trying to fall asleep while listening to the music from my room, always intrigued and jealous that it was past my bedtime. Eventually, every night after my mom and sister would fall asleep, I would sneak out of my room and ask my dad if I could stay up and listen to records with him.
To my surprise, instead of being scolded for sneaking out past bedtime, Dad didn’t mind and let me hang out. He’d play me all his favorite songs and was so blissfully happy while doing it. The ultimate test for my dad was if a song gave him the chills. He’d show me his arm covered in goosebumps after his favorite part of a song came through the speakers and my childhood brain was blown away at the power sound could have on us. I was hooked. These joyous late night listening sessions with him undoubtedly fostered my passion for all things music.