Be honest, when was the last time you put on a vinyl record and did nothing else but kick back on the sofa and listen? I mean genuinely nothing else. The experience is illusive. But if we want to value music more we should make it a reality, just like in the 60s and 70s.
70s turntable, by Mick Clarke
Vinyl seems to keep growing and growing. It fascinates me that younger people are getting into vinyl, despite the obvious ecological concerns. But then why should next generations be denied vinyl’s tactile, sensory pleasures just because they are young and therefore have to save the environment?
I place strict(ish) limits on vinyl purchases, for reasons of space, budget and yes, eco-guilt. Even so, my ‘collection’ (part of those limits it to avoid using that word) grows largely because I have an obligation to respect those albums that really stand out to me. And I feel like it’s the least I can do for the artists who lovingly make the recordings. Blood, sweat, tears and…vinyl.
But I do think that our current, renewed love for vinyl is complex. Many of the ideas I have about vinyl (ideas that drive a motivation for buying the format at the current average price of £26 per title compared with virtually free on Spotify) are essentially fantasy.
I imagine a utopian scenario whereby I can be at home, with no distractions and no one else around, so the volume can be suitably high. I imagine having a spare 40 mins or perhaps even an hour - enough for a proper listening session. I imagine choosing a suitable title - a recent purchase, a new release or perhaps a classic, and then commencing the ritual: taking the record out of the sleeve, dropping the needle etc. Just put the record on, kick back on the sofa and just listen. The reality is entirely different of course. The number of times I get to enjoy listening in this way are…well almost never.
The distractions are endless. Enemy no. 1 is of course, you guessed it, The Phone. Although I have only a few apps with notifications on, the all-demanding phone just lies there knowing it will be picked up and pecked at before too long - certainly within the space of 40 minutes. It is the vessel and repository for endless messages related to work, family affairs and friend contact. And a bottomless pit of news, reviews and social media guff.
Second only to The Phone is…the house itself. Like anyone else’s house (I assume) it provides/requires a constant stream of essential small tasks, from emptying the dishwasher (or worse, putting it on so it can swoosh away while I’m trying to listen to a record) doing the recycling etc. or thinking about what’s in the fridge, just in case something is missing for dinner later.
Then there is the competition for this precious window of down time. Why not take this quiet time to catch up with some quality reading? Take the dog for another walk and enjoy nature?
It’s a guilt trip, sometimes, playing vinyl records, or attempting to. With listening time so scarce, it is inevitable that our vinyl collections far outweigh the time we spend playing them. Is the joy more conspicuous perhaps? Having that stock of records on the shelf as decoration - a show of identity or just the promise of a more relaxed, culturally enriched, less distracted future? Is this why many people - especially younger buyers - have vinyl collections despite not actually owning a turntable?
Then again, there is nothing quite so elegant as vinyl, certainly not from the perspective of music formats. I recently enjoyed Stephan Kunze’s ‘zensounds’ blog about listening more slowly, in which he says:
“Do you realize that some of these artefacts are extremely beautiful? People spend much time and effort on designing sleeves, choosing materials and even hand-crafting limited vinyl, CD or tape runs in special boxes, putting together liner notes and credits. I always loved reading through booklets while listening to music”.
Indeed, one look at the library of vinyl record covers designed by Hipgnosis (the design agency not the music catalogue fund) makes you realise just how much of a cultural powerhouse the format once was.
The whole vinyl ritual seems worth buying into even if it’s really more illusion than reality. Perhaps the answer is more discipline. Put the phone in the other room, or turn it off. Put routine listening sessions into the calendar - just once a week would be a start. The rare times I have achieved true vinyl-to-sofa sessions in recent times have been so immensely enjoyable, I can’t think of anything more beneficial to anyone who calls themselves a music fan.
Long may the format’s commercial and cultural resurgence continue, but I hope we can do it justice by placing enough priority on our time to really enjoy vinyl as we used to. And if you have a collection but no turntable, then start saving up now and buy one good enough to do the format justice. As Corinne Bailey Rae’s first hit suggested: “Girl (/boy/non-binary person), put your records on. Tell me your favourite song. You go ahead, let your hair down”.
It’s good advice.
60s Crosley, by Mick Clarke