“I'd started out younger Had most everything All the riches and pleasures What else can life bring? But it makes me feel better Each time it begin Callin' me home Hickory wind” Gram Parsons - “Hickory Wind” I recently bought a new turntable, and for the first time in probably two decades began carefully resting a stylus on the outside ridges of some dusty albums, and waiting for the magic to commence. At first it felt like an affectation, this, an overly nostalgic lurch towards the past, but I quickly became glad of the company of these old friends, and of the simplicity of listening to long players they way the artist intended, as a whole piece. It was also refreshing to control the inputs for once; the next song neither the result of some algorithm nor the outcome of yet another forced choice, but an intentional, premeditated act.
I enjoyed the connection of vinyl with hickory - I missed out on using the latter but was once obsessed by the former. This is the second online conversation I have had about vinyl this week and I feel a nagging desire to return. Far from an affectation, it's beginning to feel like a necessity. There was the deep connection with the music which you mention - a work of art, heard as the artist intended. There is also nostalgia for simpler times - limited access to music meant it had more value and as a teenager, I carried LPs around like a calling card. Thanks for the memories, Richard, as finely articulated as ever.
Dear Richard, you know from earlier remarks that I find your writing sublime, mind-calming and wonderfully rich in imagery. The Advent postings offered a perfect end-of-day tonic to produce a peaceful sleep. Today as I read this at breakfast I find new energy for the day and its inevitable tops and shanks. I presumed that you and Grant Books would find each other. Perfect. Chip
KOKO!! Lovely stuff, Richard. M
I enjoyed the connection of vinyl with hickory - I missed out on using the latter but was once obsessed by the former. This is the second online conversation I have had about vinyl this week and I feel a nagging desire to return. Far from an affectation, it's beginning to feel like a necessity. There was the deep connection with the music which you mention - a work of art, heard as the artist intended. There is also nostalgia for simpler times - limited access to music meant it had more value and as a teenager, I carried LPs around like a calling card. Thanks for the memories, Richard, as finely articulated as ever.
Dear Richard, you know from earlier remarks that I find your writing sublime, mind-calming and wonderfully rich in imagery. The Advent postings offered a perfect end-of-day tonic to produce a peaceful sleep. Today as I read this at breakfast I find new energy for the day and its inevitable tops and shanks. I presumed that you and Grant Books would find each other. Perfect. Chip