Aisles to Files

There was nothing I liked better than looking over acres of vinyl albums in the local record emporium with two hours to browse. It was just plain heaven to wander the aisles and delve into the genre sections, flipping through each department A to Z. Dipping into each letter’s “misc.” card, picking out some artist or band that did not have enough catalog to earn its own name divider. Were they the next big thing? Or were they just taking up space, literally.

There was the leisurely picking up of the LP, the looking at the cover art and then turning it over to peruse the albumÂ’s liner note. Who were the players? Who was the producer? Was there a message in the titles? Was it worth a shot? Sometimes the build up was better than the result. But when the inside and the outside melded it was ecstasy.

We researched our expeditions. Maybe a piece on the “underground” FM station that came drifting over the air waves at 2 am. Those stations had people who would link their sets by themes. Or emotions. They combined the music with spoken word and poetry and excerpts from books. Those days the music was presented as performance art. And at the end of the performance you felt something or, better yet, were exposed to something brand new to you. Being “turned on” was a phrase that meant much more than firing up a joint.

The bands and artists and radio personalities and music writers and the listeners were all part of clan. We were turned on by each other and we could not wait to turn on some one else to our experience. We talk often about sitting in the room with kindred spirit and just listening. It was always a good session when that kindred spirit would say, “Where did you find that?” or “Who are these guys!”

Today there are no longer the acres of aisles to wander through. Because acres of vinyl have turned into galaxies of bytes. Today, the music freak has a virtual universe to pick and choose from. Stores that used to say ROCK or JAZZ or SOUL over their bins have divided and divided geometrically, like some kind of giant amoeba. No longer limited by space, todayÂ’s music fan can time travel to musical eras past and present. No longer limited by budgets they pick and choose what they like, be it one song or one album. ItÂ’s not LP or CD or tapes, its gigabytes. I would have had to build an extension on my house to listen to what my iPod carries now. Instead of the liner note, we google our album information. Not one liner note but hundreds as we can read blogs, band releases and reviews from all over the world.

It will never be the good old days anymore. That is just not the way things work. But as long as we continue to need music, in any or all of its manifestations, we will find a way to enjoy it. And as long as we enjoy it, we will find ways to get it to our ears. And as long as we need it in our ears, someone somehow will find a way to get it there.