Sunday, July 26, 2009

My Life on Vinyl

Some things get better with age, right? Wine, definitely. Whisky, absolutely (well, while we're at this, let's just add all alcohol that doesn't have the word "Light" in its title). Art definitely gets better with age, because lets face it, nobody thinks art is cool until its creator has passed away. But one thing that has recently occurred to me is that music, especially its fads, seem to get much better with age. It's 2o09: vinyl sales are surging, you can still find a handful of kids with Clash patches on their denim jackets, and people continue to comment about my radio airname, Bungalow Bill, as if the White Album absurdity came out just yesterday. In fact, I can't remember anytime somebody's called into KALX and requested the new Bob Dylan album over some obscure Siouxsie and the Banshee's B-side (the closest was some guy requesting the new Dinosaur Jr. album because he said it reminded him of their old stuff...not exactly a proper concession to my point).

All of this led me to the concept of viewing my life on vinyl. I started out as a 12" single that a few audiophiles out in Berkeley picked up and enjoyed for its pop sensibilities and light-hearted honesty. But now I've grown older, an LP that's been sitting on the shelf of a man who hasn't felt strongly about anything since Surfer Rosa first came out in '88. At this point, people know me as a person. When I meet somebody new, I may have the new car smell, but I'm still the same make and model that I've been for a while. My battle right now is not for self-actualization, but for self-maintenance. I'm not having a mid-life crisis, I'm having a quarter-life analysis of where I'm at, seeing if I'm alright with the guy that I decided to be when middle school bullies and high school buddies forced me to make those decisions.

However, vinyl re-surges, audiophiles buy new equipment to play their old LPs, and people remain interested. Especially in my first summer back from college, I've realized that people generally don't change that much. While that may lead some to think that their friends are boring, and seek something new, there is beauty in this realization. A new record rarely affects somebody strongly until they've heard it a few times (case in point, one of my favorite albums of all time, Manchester Orchestra's Mean Everything to Nothing). So, in application, while we may not be fighting to find ourselves, we can take comfort in continuing to assert the selves that we have found. There's no shame in throwing on Nevermind in this decade, so why should there be shame in simply existing in a scenario - as you are, with no need to attempt originality.

The truth about vinyl is that the most comforting feeling I've ever experienced is grabbing a record off the shelves, knowing exactly where to put the needle to play the track that I want to hear, and sitting back to hear the beautiful, warm sound of the music that results. I know that I'm not going to find anything new, but I don't need to. I may be an old LP, but at least I'm not a one-hit wonder, and the experiences that I have now are simply new tracks laid down in the studio, not re-inventions or attempts to repeat what's already occurred. This is the type of musician I want to be, and more importantly, the type of person I want to be.


I've known for a while that I'd like to have a blog, and I'll do my best to update this as frequently as I have something to say. This will also be a place to update people on my music, my sports opinions, my radio show, etc. I hope that you all will continue reading in the future.