To the left is Phil's Beomaster 6000 - a now vintage Bang and Olufsen, circa 1982. Sadly, the turntable is broken. Actually, it's been broken for a couple years, and may remain so for some time yet. Inspector Gadget has only so many hours in the day after all. Believe me, I'd clone him tomorrow if I could.In the meantime though, I'm left pining for vinyl, and have been since the 19th of June 2007, when I scribbled the following entry in my diary:
In Lismore there's a cool record shop selling only vinyl, everything lovingly cleaned and in plastic sleeves, that makes you want to buy up all your old music again and listen to it slowly, on a turntable, and to hear it the way it's supposed to sound.
We were taking the long way home after a holidayette (read weekend) at Girraween Environmental Lodge. God that was a cold winter. It had been cold enough on the Sunshine Coast, and yet we'd decided to up the ante and spend a couple of days in the Granite Belt. But it was all part of a cunning, mini-hibernation plan: a cosy cabin, a crackling wood fire and a plump sofa; nothing outside but trees, a particularly bitey wind, and the odd wallaby; and best of all, no decisions required - at least, none more taxing than which cheese to eat with which local wine ... and which video to watch.
We were taking the long way home after a holidayette (read weekend) at Girraween Environmental Lodge. God that was a cold winter. It had been cold enough on the Sunshine Coast, and yet we'd decided to up the ante and spend a couple of days in the Granite Belt. But it was all part of a cunning, mini-hibernation plan: a cosy cabin, a crackling wood fire and a plump sofa; nothing outside but trees, a particularly bitey wind, and the odd wallaby; and best of all, no decisions required - at least, none more taxing than which cheese to eat with which local wine ... and which video to watch.
And there, waiting at the bottom of the thoughtfully provided basket of of DVDs, was Almost Famous, Cameron Crowe's autobiographical masterpiece for the children of seventies - or indeed (to quote groupie Sapphire) for "anyone who has ever loved a band, or some silly little piece of music, so much that it hurts". A film I'd foolishly overlooked until just this moment, it was about to join my top ten of all time.
Favourite scene number one (for me and just about everyone else, it seems): As William's sister Anita leaves home, she turns to whisper in his ear, "Look under the bed ... It will set you free. Listen to Tommy with a candle burning and you'll see your entire future." Cut to Anita's room, where a wide-eyed William uncovers her box of cherished albums, and slowly, one by one, flips through those magical, heartbreakingly familiar covers. Waves of nostalgia wash over me. I recognise that look of revelation and wonder in his eyes. For William, a portal has been opened on another, far better and more wondrous world.
Suddenly, quite suddenly, I want all my old records back.
The next day, on the long road home, I see the cool music shop.
Lismore, of course, is far from the only place selling vinyl. These days it seems almost every market stall and second-hand shop reserves a spot for records - often thoroughly dusted and catalogued, as opposed to cobwebbed and tossed in a pile. Despite its anticipated demise in the early 90s, the big black disc has hung on bravely, thanks mainly to all those audiophiles, rappers and DJs who wouldn't settle for anything less. And now, of course, there's the nostalgia factor, the collectability factor, and, for those poor deprived children of the digital generation, the romance of discovering a by-gone era.
For me though, it comes down to the Zen factor. It's why, despite my fondness for internet radio (no voices - lovely), and the joy of compiling quirky party playlists on I-tunes, I yearn for those familiar, almost forgotten rituals: the kneeling before the altar/turntable; the gazing at the beauty of the artwork; the reading of the liner notes; the gentle placing of the needle on the groove, and finally, the sinking down into deep pillows of aural bliss ...
Home.
4 comments:
I believe you! I believe you! I'm in lerve too.
Hello Eumundi Papers. You have received a Kreative Blog Award. I know. I know. You'd think we could get the spelling right. There are things to do but only if you really want to. Have a look at www.grandpurlbaa.com
Know just what you mean. I've kept all the vinyl I've ever owned, lovingly dragged it from place to place, in the face of gentle derision and pressure to get rid of it... never. Those Roger Dean gate sleeves... and a whole child/teenagerhood.
Roger Dean - I think he deserves a link under art don't you? I'll get on to it.
I'm green that you still have all your records. Sensible girl.
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