greatbear | Spin the black circle

I did something tonight I havent done in years.

I played records. You know, the big, one foot diameter things with music on them. Those among my readership who are DJs, audiophiles/purists or old-skool are probably rolling their eyes right about now. This is an example of a simple pleasure that I lost touch with.

Some history is needed. Most know by now that music is a huge part of my life. Ever since I can remember, I had music accompanying my every day. As a kid I was rarely without my transistor radio. At home I had an old Webcor record player. I'd save up allowance money to buy records (mosty singles with an occasional album) from the Ft. Meade PX. They were cheap there, 59 cents or thereabouts for 45s, 3-4 bux for an album. I'd always ask for records as gifts. I'd have my radio with me at school, the earphone jammed in my ear and the cord running through my shirt to the radio in my pocket. I endured the chastising of teachers as well as jeers from kids who thought I was deaf (to them I was). It was all worth it, because music, in many different forms, carried my day. I also was a pretty adept violin, guitar and bass player in my earlier years, something that age and musclebound fingers lessened over time.

Any time I got a new record it was an 'event'. Time was taken to sit by whatever player I had at the time, listening to the music, often making a cassette recording of it during the first playing (I rarely bought prerecorded tapes, they sounded like ass compared to the ones I made). As the years progressed (and I had more money) new stereo equipment was bought to replace the old, sound was improved, my focus on the music intensified along with it. I amassed a collection of close to five hundred albums, and countless 45s. in '77 I bought a Technics SL-1900 turntable and an Empire 2000E-III cartridge. For many years this was my turntable, my little place that had time set aside during most days to interact with. In the early 80s, the always brash sounding Empire was replaced with Precept Shibata stylus which breathed even more life into my listening experiences.

Then came CDs.

Ah, CDs. The impossibly low noise floor. The convenience of an entire album played without turning it over. Then my first Sony portable disc player in '86, that miracle of miniaturization which put the entire workings of a CD player in a box the size of a stack of three jewel boxes. Never mind the fact that it needed a pack of six C-size batteries to power it that only lasted 4 hours. Then I got the first Alpine CD player for the car that was sold on the state. My car stereo won trophies in the earliest days of high-end car audio. CDs became my weapon of choice for my music fix. But there was something else at work as well, the relentless march of adulthood and changing priorities and lessening of free time. Music, while still ubiquitous, had become a background thing, no longer being devoted the time it had in the past. The guitars languished in their cases and stands, the CDs were played as background music or almost always while something else was being done. The stereo fell into disuse, the turntable aquiring an atrophy of it's inner workings. Eventually my 25 year old Pioneer SX-828 reciver was replaced with a Denon AV receiver and the stereo became a home theater. The turntable was banished to the basement, in the workshop to await repairs, if ever. The shelf-bending record collection was boxed up and put in a closet. CDs aquired some nice cabinets. Priorities changed, and so did media.

My musical interests moved more to the forefront once again as I was in relationships with a couple musicians, one of whom was Kit Watkins. Kit pressed me to play more, which I did, cursing my uncooperative fingers all the way. Eventually me and Kit broke up and my playing became practically nonexistent. My music collection became digitized and my online searches for my old favorites as well as new and interesting music became my new obsession. Over the years I amassed countless thousands of tracks and albums in digital form. My LAN became my accessible-everywhere jukebox fix. Music by the packetload, playing what seemed like all the time.

Then my oldest, most long-term friend John H. died. Died a horrible death from runaway cancer.

This past Saturday his parents asked me to come over to his house and look through what was left of his belongings that was not passed along to other family members. There was the cord and a half of firewood. A picnic table set. A wheelbarrow. Other odds and ends. An old turntable. And his record collection.

A record collection that was sometimes built on recommendations from me. He and I shared similar interests in eclectic and unusual musical styles and genres. Other family members had gotten his current stereo and few CDs, but the turntable and the records had been sent into the basement a long time ago, for most likely the same reasons as mine. It was a sad sight for me to see, and it reminded me once again of my own collection collecting dust in a closet.

Sunday evening I brought his old turntable into the sunroom, where I had temporarily connected the old Pioneer receiver to the speakers I had built in the walls there. I connected the turntable to the receiver, then I picked a couple random albums from the boxes I brought home and gave the old system a shot.

It was like finding a long-lost friend. Even mom came over and wanted to play records whe hadn't heard in decades.

I went into the basement, pulled the old Technics off the shelf, tore it apart, cleaned, lubed and repaired it and brought it back up to the living room. I hooked the 27-plus year old turntable to the home theater, switched it on, put it in stereo mode and put the needle down. First song was Supertramp's "Even In The Quietest Moments". Rich and full sounding, it was better than I remembered. Next was Heart's "The Sylvan Song/Dream Of The Archer". I rummaged around in my boxed up collection and brought out more and more. Rush's "Cygnus X-1". Yes' "South Side Of The Sky". My old records sounded so sweet. You could not wipe the smile off my face.

The old Technics has regained it's place of honor on top of the rack, and all the records, my old ones as well as my newly acquired ones, will see the light of day once more. I will take some time now and then to make sure of that. It's quality time.

John H. would be proud. He'd want to listen too.

Here's to you, J.