It was some 4 years ago I was gifted a record player by a friend of mine. I have no clue why he gifted me a record player. With the player, he gave me two vinyls. One was an R.D. Burman anthology, and the other one was a Beatles record.
Back then, I did not know anything about these records — I had only seen them in films like Clockwork Orange. I had no idea on how to clean them? how to enjoy the crackle of the needle? how to feel about owning music? And since I have learned all these things and I have gone on a collection spree. I’ve also realized — it is more like wearing an automatic or a mechanical watch over a quartz watch, even when a quartz watch is much more accurate.
Fast forward, I have upgraded my setup, got a better audio-technica player and paired it with edifier speakers.
It is not that I was dumb at appreciating music before. It’s just that I did not know how much satisfaction owning music had to offer. Early on, I started buying records piece by piece. Assembled a few Beatles, some live recordings of Elvis, some live recordings of Doors, a few Hindi albums.
And slowly, I started gravitating towards some Western classical music — got a few Brahms, got a few Beethovens, got a few Bachs. I had grown liking to some classical music like Vivaldi(The Four Seasons) and various renditions of Fur Elise while at college — but I didn’t know that I would actually start appreciating music without lyrics.
I also debated vigorously with the Claudes and ChatGPTs of the world on why people are emotional about vinyl records. Is the sound quality better, or is it the anticipation, when you take out a record from its sleeve, place it into the platter, and wait for the stylus to move in the groove? When you hear the crackles — which you are forced to listen to — the record also communicates that it has dust in its groove or that it is getting older. Lately, I have come to realise, it is that ritual which makes record-playing such a pleasurable practise for humans.
Sometimes a newfound love in something also leads to a discovery inside of you. In that regard, I was dazzled on how much I started to appreciate Tchaikovsky’s music! I don’t know why I like Tchaikovsky — it’s just the music started speaking to me in crescendos. Now, often I come back from work, switch off all the lights in the living room, and put a record on. It has become more like a switching-off ritual for me — no internet, no lights — plain old music consumed, as it supposed to be consumed.
This new found love also led me to go down a few rabbit holes — for instance which conductor played at which symphony orchestra, and where was it recorded or where was the record pressed. I would not have known the difference between Decca Records, German Records(Deutsche Grammophon), Soviet Records(Melodiya) — and the cheap mass produced Capitol or Colombia records.
Since I have wasted a decent sum of money, on buying records. Truly, they are very costly — if you know what you want. Sometimes, when I am in a good mood, I make a video of the record player playing and me enjoying the music to few of my friends on WA — maybe that is what this hobby is worth: a way of keeping in touch with people. Or maybe the answer lies with a friend who gifted me the first record player. Or maybe it will take a few more years to reveal what this hobby is actually worth.
