My earliest memories of music are of my father playing records in our old apartment. While he laid on the floor and listened to Barrabas, Michael Jackson’s Off The Wall, Rufus featuring Chaka Khan, and Isaac Haye’s Chocolate Chip albums I was somewhere sitting and building a tree out of LEGO blocks or playing with my Ninja Turtles. Even then it appeared that listening to albums, like an actual 12 inch or 45 on a turntable could have “religious” implications. It’s truly a ceremony for audiophiles. From the placement of the record, to the movement of the arm, the dropping of the needle and then sound. Pure, sweet, Analog sound.
My generation arrived upon the fading of LPs as cassettes and CDs quickly became the norm. By 2001, I had discovered Napster and MP3s soon became the wave. I had numerous walkmen, discmen, and various generations of iPods/iPhones and a closet with a bunch of vinyl that I never had the opportunity to really get into because of a “failed” (did I even really try?) dream of wanting to be a DJ. In that era, I could’ve been DJ Mikey McFly or something equally cheesy. Nothing but provolone in the zone but I digress. CDs aren’t being bought as often anymore and the colossal sweep of digital music has completely taken over. I have a need to retrace the steps of music. How it should sound, the affect of it, the experience of an era that I wasn’t born in. I want to relive the moments of my childhood and vibe out to Michael Jackson’s “I Can’t Help It” and/or Stevie Wonder’s “Superwoman (Where Were You When I Needed You) as it spins on my Crosley turntable.
There’s a lot to learn and listen to and I wish that there were more than a few record stores left in Philly. The games changed up but that doesn’t mean that it’s dead. I have to work and search harder to find what I need.