I just finished reading "old records never die" by Eric Spitznagel. Simple synopsis is it's a documentation of a guy trying to track down lost albums if his youth. Not new copies but the actual vinyl artifact he once owned. It stung me with my own kind of crisis with getting older and coming to terms with years i can't relive. I pulled this cd off the shelf to inspect it from an archeological perspective. I bought this CD single from a record store in the small rural town i was attending my first year of community college in 1991. I was broke and my parents had bought me my first cd player that winter for xmas. I didn't have much money and wanted something to play on it. My buddy had promised me he would borrow his parent's car and we would make the hour drive north to Buffalo to our beloved record store Home Of The Hits. Finally having this coveted technology with nothing to play on it was making me nuts. I knew i had to save money for the real CD haul so i decided to buy a single from the local mall store. I do not remember why i chose this. Thinking back i have no recollection of knowing who #robynhitchcock was. It is still kind of a blackout spot and i am puzzled to this day by this choice. I love this cd because for a week it's all i listened to. Three sacharrine and clever songs burned into my brain. So i pulled this first cd off the shelf this morning. I smelled it, i carefully examined the scratches in the jewel case. I even pulled the disc tray out to see if i had hidden anything underneath. I found nothing. I'm not certain that if i lost this artifact that I'd be able to identify it again. I have carried this cd around for 27 years and it has no discerning marks. That worries me now. I put one of my business cards inside the tray in case it ever strays. I feel better.
No comments:
Post a Comment