Going off the record

(This is Bringing the Heat, an as-often-as-I-feel-like-it feature where I say something that will probably get me yelled at on Twitter.)

You have two choices.

The first: Have every song in the history of ever available to you anywhere, anytime, with just the tap of a button or two in crystal-clear audio and in any order you choose to listen.

The second: Every dozen songs or so take up a square foot of space, you have one defined order, you can only play them in one place, that spot takes up the spot of a mid-range appliance, it’s far more expensive, and it glitches regularly.

Y’all. C’mon now.

Vinyl is pretty. Maybe you like the firm crackle that listening to records adds. If you want to get your favorite, I don’t know, 10 albums on vinyl and have a small vinyl spot in your house for display/prestige reasons, that’s great. But a vinyl collection? It’s ludicrous. The resurgence of vinyl as an approach to music is the most hipster bullshit we’ve attempted in a while now, and I say that as someone who barely believes in the term “hipster” to begin with.

Considering my brother-in-law — who shares every piece I write — has a turntable and is augmenting his record collection, and Chris Towers — one of the people who has joined my Patreon — regularly shares the records he’s playing on Twitter, maybe the point I’m making is not a good one. But just like we don’t get nostalgic for VHS tapes or Zack Morris-style phones or 56k dial-up modems, the time for records has come and gone.

We don’t listen to tapes anymore. We don’t listen to 8-tracks anymore. With few exceptions, we don’t really listen to CDs anymore. Things come, things go, we move on. It’s time to give up the infatuation with vinyl. It’s time to move on.