I know that vinyl - records, that is - never really went away. When audio cassette tapes became the format of choice in the 80's, there were still record collectors on the fringe. And even when CDs came into the fore, and seemingly wiped the slate clean, claiming superior sound quality, the vinyl purists were even more sceptical and steadfast in their preference.
Stevie Wonder's "Sir Duke" single, one of my first
record store purchases
Older music lovers probably bought some tapes but never fully embraced that medium. The audio fidelity of tapes was noticeably lower than that of records. But it was a matter of taste and convenience for most people. Younger adults and teenagers were more easily brought into the fold since they possibly had never devoted much time or money to vinyl. Records were larger in size, requiring significant storage space. And they weren't portable, which became an issue with a large chunk of the population in the early 80's, when the Sony Walkman, the boombox, and similar on-the-go music personal music systems came around. Plus the new music collectors had little or no exposure to the greater sonic subtleties of vinyl. Tapes were easy to carry around and play on their person, in their car, the beach, home, anywhere. The fact that this wasn't high fidelity didn't even enter the equation. Sometimes the sound on tapes was better than average, especially when played on a quality car or home system.
My early memories of record stores conjure up images of rows of bins of brightly-coloured album jackets. The vast variety of large (larger than CDs, anyway, at twelve inches square) images on the covers were the most immediate draw of a record store. The new arrivals in the shop window, the best sellers prominently displayed near the front of the store, and then the bins full of older vinyl. I was in an intimidated state of reverence on my first trips to record stores. Here I was, barely into my teens, hesitantly browsing the front-most sections of the bins, sneaking furtive glances at other shoppers, all older than me, usually guys, often sharing with the clerk arcane knowledge of recording labels, bands and singers and instrumentalists, and even technical details of home stereo equipment. A lot of stuff that I'd come to appreciate in later years. I had a lot to learn.
I look back fondly on recollections of shopping trips to my hometown record stores. There was one small, dark shop where I bought my first Rush album, 2112. Then there was the larger, slightly better lit, independent spot where I picked up my first brand new records (I'd earlier bought used vinyl off a friend), including some Stevie Wonder and BeeGees singles, and Kiss and Zeppelin LPs. Then a new gunslinger came to town... I'm not one hundred percent positive, but I think it was called The Record Stop. I loved going in there with a pocketful of cash from my paper route, scouring the racks, and walking out with stuff like Cheap Trick's early albums.
One of my earliest vinyl acquisitions back in the 70's...
I re-bought this first Cheap Trick album to hang on my wall
And that sense of anticipation as I hurried home, either walking or by bus, glancing now and then at the front and back covers of my purchases. It was a pleasurable nervous state that is hard to describe to someone who just doesn't "get" the record thing. And let me tell you, I never never felt that same sense of "Christmas morning" with new CDs. It just wasn't the same. The ritual of carefully peeling off the plastic wrap, sliding out the liner sleeve and gingerly removing the record, trying not to touch its virgin plastic surface with my fingertips. Then onto the turntable platter, power on, volume up, click, click.... and away it went. It's a sensual thing. The magic and mystique of hearing beautiful, powerful, emotional, sometimes not so beautiful music emerging from this thin plastic disc.... it seemed a technological marvel. And yet the recorded music medium existed as far back as the late 1800's.
Once the record began spinning and the speakers filled the room with music, I'd focus on the record packaging... admire its front cover image, the song listing and band and recording details on the reverse, sometimes images and song lyrics on the paper inner dust sleeve. And if you were really lucky the cover would open like a book - called a gatefold, providing even more space for info and graphics. Gatefolds first came into use for double albums, so that one record would be stored in each half of the folded cover. That Rush "2112" I bought in my youth was a gatefold, with lyrics and cool graphics printed on the inside surfaces. But as we all know, 2112 was a single disc album. The gatefold design was often used even for single record packaging, giving the buyer more for his or her money.
A lot of work goes into the album cover, and it is even more important on vinyl record packing than on CDs. The reduced size of CD cases can render subtle or complex cover images next to useless, certainly lacking impact and even legibility. So the small size demands less attention to detail, one would think. The record jacket, though, is large enough for a sizable artist name or logo, album title, and it acts as a decent sized canvas for an artist or photographer to impress us... and sell that record to us. I guess the challenge for designers may be greater with the smaller CD format, faced with developing an image bold and simple enough to be easily viewed and understood. It's always disappointing to see a great classic record album cover reduced to CD size.
Some original pressings of 60's James Bond movie
soundtracks - collectible and groovy as wall art
I think many people who grew up with CDs (and even more so with the MP3 generation) take them for granted and never think about what an amazing invention recorded music (or any audio, like voice or other natural sounds) was and is. I've dabbled in all the formats - vinyl, cassette tape, 8-track tape, CD, and digital file), and though there is the tactile and visual appeal of vinyl, I am fine with the CD, which is cheaper and easier to store and maintain. I have hundreds of CDs, and I can't imagine how much space in my little apartment it would take to house the same number of records. I just don't have the room.
I have always taken great care of my possessions, and my music collection was (and is still) no exception. I made a point of setting myself up with proper shelving for records, storage cases for tapes, and even more shelving for CDs. And way back in my vinyl days, I enjoyed the maintenance aspects - rituals, I thought - of the "hobby", cleaning the disc until the dust specks gave way to the brilliant sheen again, dabbing at the tone arm stylus to flick away grit. Dusting the surfaces of the turntable and its cover. Carefully handling the records by the edges and the central spindle label as I returned them to their dust sleeves and jackets.
I have a small handful of records, but I also have the CDs of those same albums... for listening purposes. Maybe someday, if the urge is unbearable, I'll invest in a turntable and get back to basics.
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