Posted by tklassen on Wednesday, November 25, 2009
I treasure my collection of vinyl albums and I know they are dinasaurs and in recent years I have treated them as such. They rest within their covers on a shelf in some semblance of order and have become room decor as I have moved on to the digital age.
I have always intended to transfer these analogue monsters to digital but there was always something which distracted me from going forward. A friend who recently joined a club store, told me of a turntable with USB connection selling for under $100 and shortly thereafter I was ready to begin the task.
What an experience this has become. To return to the music that defined who I was over 40 years ago. What singers, song-writers, muscians impacted me. How at the time I so identified with these people, and listening now still cling to their values but have become so jaded, cynical, as to the reality of my life lived. It was not a more simple time. I remember the fear I truly felt during the Cuban missile crisis. Applying to the Peace Core. Vietnam. The cold war, the Berlin Wall. My respite were these albums. I had forgotten the comfort they gave; the inspiration they provided.
Each one I transfer is a labour of love. It is like meeting up with an old friend. The familiar album cover with the stains of too many beers and cigarettes. They bring me back to a time when I did not concern myself with investments, taxes, sewer lines, and property value. They are relics of a time of excitement, learning, and dreams.
pauwac Says:
Thursday, November 26, 2009 @5:40:50 AM
I identify with this post. I often wonder where my idealism went. I also find great comfort in the music I grew up with.
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