“The joys of music either come from
something that you know, or from something that is new to you...”
-A simple, but elegant, statement
by my father.
I find it peculiar
that many people often claim they love French film yet, when I question them
further, can only name Amelie (2001)
as an example. Nonetheless, Amelie is
a French film, and a good one at that. One theme of the film concerns me here:
having resigned herself to never find love, Amelie finds happiness through
life’s simple everyday pleasures. For Amelie, these include skipping stones,
cracking crème
brûlée, and doing charitable
deeds for others. It is a remarkable insight when one considers how often a simple
pleasure can change one’s mood, and I invite you to write of your own small
pleasures elsewhere.
One of my small pleasures is vinyl records. I find that half of the fun
of playing them is in the preparation, and the other half in the reward of
music. There is an art to slipping the record from its sleeve, and catching it
between thumb and forefinger in a manner that avoids touching the surface. The
record is then presented and flipped between both hands to find the right side,
or flipped simply for the fun of it. It is then placed on the record player,
and the needle is lowered into the record’s groove, producing the feeling of
satisfaction that waiters must feel when they present vintage champagne and pop
the bottle’s cork. Then there is that reward of whatever music, new or known,
that flows through the speakers.
I do not doubt that CD and MP3 are more convenient, and here lies
vinyl’s charm. Vinyl has a vintage appeal like fine wine, and in turn there are
certain records that I save for special occasions; as much as there are others
that are played frequently and repeatedly. Of the former, a live version of
B.B.King’s Sweet Sixteen comes to mind. Accompanied by other favourite
blues, jazz, and soul records, it makes an appearance in December every
year where I enjoy it whilst lying down under the lights of our Christmas tree.
With this vintage appeal in mind it is a tragedy whenever stockists, like Tower
Records; that used to grace Piccadilly Circus and has since been
converted to a chain clothing store, close; though many shops are supported by
cult supporters supplying a demand for this vintage market.
My father, who is knowledgeable in such things, tells me that vinyl’s
quality, and depth of sound, is often superior to CD and MP3. To many, vinyl is
old, scratchy, breaks easy, and makes crackling sounds. Perhaps these
stereotypes are true for very old records. Nonetheless, I am lucky enough to
possess records that stretch back to the 50’s & 60’s and can testify that,
even after rigorous use, their sound is still true. They will eventually
wear out. However, in contrast, do not forget that storage and backup issues,
device failure, and file corruption are problems that affect MP3s which vinyl
is immune from. There is no single best way to enjoy music; just many great
ones.
The consumption of vinyl is different. As the needle can be fiddly, it is often more convenient to let albums play through from start to finish and make time for them accordingly, thus one gets the impression of an entire body of work rather than just a section of it. One of my happiest memories is when my parents came home one evening after a hot summer’s day at work to find me listening to John Lee Hooker’s This is Hip, in such a manner: all the way through. Instead of going their separate ways to do their own things, or turning on the television (as are our customs), they joined me for a second playing to accompany dinner.
Indeed, I reflect that one of my earliest memories as a toddler was
hearing music on vinyl, and I remember that one of the stupidest things I ever
did at that age was ‘playing’ with the arm of our turntable and breaking the
unit. I was dismayed when I realized that this had killed music, and overjoyed
when it was replaced. On this reflection I have realized, like Proust’s
narrator tasting the Madeleine, that vinyl has seen me through some of the
major transitions in my life. From a passive child, to a teenager searching for
definition, to an adult confident in their artistic tastes.
As a baby I was at the mercy of my parent’s influences; a happy, but
passive, receiver of whatever they chose to play me. There was a magic to
watching my father muse over his collection, for what seemed like an age, and
waiting in anticipation for the unknown sounds that I knew I would now
hear for the first time in my life.
As teenagers we gain autonomy over our choices in art, fashion, and
friends, and often experiment in these choices. A major part of this autonomy
for me was being trusted to use the record player alone, and picking my own
records to enjoy in my spare time. I spent hours purring over my father’s
record collection and being flooded with all things new.
Recently, my best friend returned from New York, not with a gift of souvenirs of the statue of liberty, but with a record by Canned Heat. I invited him to my house to listen to it with me (he also loves blues and jazz, I refer to him as the other ‘blues brother’), and there was something peaceful about enjoying the record (and several others) in comfortable silence. An often overlooked feature of a good friend is the ability to enjoy each other’s company without having to say a word.* I used to do the same with my grandfather when we watched classic films. But that is another subject and another story.
As part of a wider resurging interest in all things ‘vintage’, vinyl
has made a recent comeback among ‘hipsters’, who buy them for their novelty
value, or to hang on walls. After all, one of the many benefits of vinyl is
that the album art is so much larger and impressing (I have provided some
favourites - the explosive image of Hendrix is a particular favourite).
Although, with record players becoming cheap and accessible (apparently
nowadays you can even buy record players that connect to computers via USB for
under £50), I was glad, but not surprised, to learn that most are enjoying the
music as well.
I have rambled on for enough, but please, by all means, write of your
own small pleasures on your own social media sites. Or, better yet, what was
your earliest significant memory?
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