Vinyl Manifesto

NOTE: I think I wrote a post like this at some point. But forget that one. This is better. Read this one. That’s what happens when you go on five years running a blog.

The invention of the compact disc will be seen as the turning point. That was when we crossed the great sonic chasm from warm, engaging, living mediums over to the cold and lonely digital world. The music industry was joyful at the time, and it did produce about a decade of high profits. Now, everyone had to go back and buy music they already owned! Reissue those back catalogues! The sound is clearer and distinct, they told us (as if being able to isolate instruments like a sonic surgeon from what was always intended to be an organic whole is a good thing). They provide us with a “lifetime of entertainment” (CD booklets usually had that phrase somewhere), because the sound quality did not deteriorate over repeated listenings, like tape or vinyl. (OK, that’s still pretty cool. But, we have discovered that unless cared for under very specific conditions, CDs also deteriorate).

Little did the music industry know that in the late 80’s when they started pushing the CD that they were sealing their own fate. Or, at least changing the industry from what it profitably and comfortably was for them. The industry controlled the medium with vinyl (and to a lesser degree, tape). But by selling music that could be reduced to the 1’s and 0’s of the digital language, they were giving up control of the medium. I have ranted obliquely and directly here on this topic at different times, but it is time that I set out my manifesto.

Digital sucks. I acknowledge the benefits. I can, and do, walk around with over 25,000 songs in my pocket all day long. The lack of sound deterioration over repeated use, as discussed above, is a plus. I do like that I can go on iTunes and pick and choose to download a song here or there, vs. buying an entire record like in the old days. I enjoy making and perfecting endlessly my “box set” playlists. All cool.

But the big question remains: do records really sound better than CDs, digital files, etc? The answer is yes. Scientifically, yes. Here’s why. Sound travels in sound waves, which by definition are analog in nature. A vinyl record has a groove carved in it that captures exactly the entire form of the wave. Nothing is lost. It captures the sound wave in analog, it is sent to your amplifier as analog and then to your speakers. There is no real conversion that must be done. CD’s, on the other hand, require snapshots and conversions. You are not listening to the entire sound wave. The CD takes snapshots of the sound wave (about 44,100 per second) and then approximates the holes. So you are getting an approximation of the sound, not the entire sound. Then these digital signals are converted to analog and amplified so you can hear them. More sound is lost in the conversion. With a record, you are looking at the Mona Lisa. With CD’s, you are looking at a picture taken of the Mona Lisa by a tourist with a disposable camera. When people talk about vinyl sound being “warmer” and “fuller,” that is why. It is the entire soundwave form, not snapshots and approximations of it. End of science lesson.

Records used to be a visual experience as well as audio. The artwork for album covers meant something, as well as the gatefolds, inserts, etc. Even the record label. Buying a record stimulates all of the senses, not just your ears. Your eyes take in all of the artwork and information that a large canvas of the cover and sleeves and gatefolds can provide. Entire essays used to be written within album gatefolds. The album cover was so important that often that alone would persuade someone to buy the record. The smell of opening new vinyl is also distinctive, taking the plastic off and taking a whiff of the newly printed cardboard and vinyl. Taking out a record to play was also a part of the process. Gingerly sliding the disc out and holding it from the label so as not to blemish the surface. And even if you did blemish the surface over time, there was something inviting even from the pops that came with many spins. (I’ve got nothing for the taste sense, sorry).

Most important, though, is connectedness. Being a music fan today is lonelier than it used to be. I’m not just talking about the more engaged and interactive experience of placing the record on your turntable, gently placing the needle where you want it (real fans personally place the needle, don’t use that auto crap), and then waiting for the first song to burst through your speakers. Not to mention flipping the disc over for the second side. (That’s another thing: records have distinct sides, with their own story to tell).

No, what I mean is a community that has been lost. Many of you have seen (or read) the loving ode to record store culture in ‘High Fidelity.’ The experience of walking into a record store, browsing for as long as you are able, listening to the music-snob customers and clerks extol the greatness of Springsteen’s second album or dismiss post-Roger Waters Pink Floyd…there was a distinct culture there. I spent many blissful hours of my life in the record store sanctuary, a place for fellow believers to share fellowship. (You have a similar loss with the disappearance of the video store for film buffs). Sure, I can blog and go in chat rooms to talk tunes, but in the end, you are alone in front of your computer screen, when you should be physically walking the aisles, listening to the music over the store system, trading suggestions with real breathing people. That is musical fellowship. It is a connectedness that is lost. I have fond childhood memories of riding my bike to and from Sound Warehouse, grabbing the latest LP’s that I wanted to explore, and then riding back home, with the wind banging the yellow bag against the bike. Later I got in the car…but it was always still a journey. I had to get up and go with purpose. Not just sit passively in front of my computer screen and click “purchase.”

I sound like some old-timer whining about how things ain’t what they used to be. But they ain’t. I know it isn’t the end of music, things are always evolving. But I do miss the era that has just passed. As someone who has experienced both the heyday and end of the old and the start of the new, I can definitely say which I prefer, for all of the conveniences today’s technology provides. I prefer warmth, connectedness, purpose, using all of the senses to experience music and fellowship. That was the old days.