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Vinyl

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I remember the very first album that I bought back in the early seventies. I took my pocket money and rode the bus into town. I got off the bus and made my way to the record shop.

Thousands of twelve inch vinyl records stared at me, all crisply clad in plastic with artistically decorated covers. I knew then that when I grew up, that was what I wanted to do. I wanted to be an album cover designer.

I made my selection with ease, I handed over my hard earned change and caught the next bus home. On the way, I peeled off the plastic protective covering and opened up the record album excitedly, as if I were opening a surprise gift from myself.

I knew most of the songs on the album and I hailed the band members of Led Zeppelin as my heroes, but the extra bonus of that crisp, hot off the press piece of vinyl, accompanied by much welcomed reading material with photographs and designs, made the whole deal sweeter than I could have ever imagined.

Sitting in my cold bedroom, listening to the songs and grooving to the music, while flipping back and forth from the front cover to the inside and then to the back page, threw me into a new dimension. The cold room did not bother me at all, for I was engaged both visually and audibly.

Over the years, I managed to build up quite a collection of albums. They'd sit, neatly stacked like thin, almost razor sharp, books in a library. Their narrow spines facing outward in alphabetical order so I could grab any one of them when ever I wanted, just to read their content, opened up new meanings for me as their mysteries and wisdom unfolded.

One day, I was introduced to a CD album. It appeared tiny and insignificant to me. I could not believe what they had done. They had taken all my favorite songs and shrunk them onto a tiny silver disc. What was worse, was that they had minimized and condensed, sometimes omitting vital artistry, just to squeeze all of it's much prized content in to one small and barely readable, five and a half inch hard plastic box.

The future had come a knocking on the deck of my Hi-Fi system. No more placing pennies atop the stylus when the record stuck, no more watching the record as it turned majestically and no more crackling, as the needle rode it's way through the sometimes slightly warped and wobbly vinyl.

No more pulling out album covers from my record gallery for me to admire and no more hoping that one day I could hone my artistry to meet the quality of their much acclaimed graphic designers.

Learn more about this author, Jon Coe.
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