I was shopping in HMV the other week looking for a new album and was overjoyed to walk upstairs and find the vinyl collection to be less the expected solitary rack and more an entire floor (near enough, anyway).
I got that familiar sense of excitement and couldn’t wait to dive in, which I did with abandon.
But then something struck me…it just wasn’t the same. The initial buzz vanished almost instantly, and I couldn’t figure out why. What was different?
Of course, being in HMV, I wasn’t about to find the rare editions or second hand gems that I used to trawl the record fairs for. But still….I expected *something* of a buzz.
So I’ve been pondering why this has vanished ever since and I think I know the answer…convenience.
The vinyl buzz has been destroyed by convenience.
In fact, pretty much everything’s been destroyed by convenience hasn’t it?
But on the subject of vinyl specifically (because that’s why we’re here), here’s 5 reasons why it’s fallen victim to convenience.
1. I can listen to literally anything I want in the car
Spotify and Apple Music have a big role to play in the vinyl killjoy stakes. I’m now completely and overwhelmingly spoilt when it comes to what I can listen to driving down the A1, never mind at home, which in some respects is great. But spoilt is the right word here - because there’s less appreciation of what we can listen to, because we can listen to literally everything! I don’t need to sit and carefully record my favourite vinyl album onto a tape to play in the car anymore. I can get exactly what I want right when I want it.
2. There’s a lack of discovery
There used to be a second hand record shop in Hull called Disc Discovery and that was what it was all about wasn’t it - discovery. Not knowing what you were going to find in the record store or at the record fair and wondering if this just might be the one that has that much sought after white vinyl LP. I remember racing around record fairs with friends knowing we were all after similar records and wondering who was going to find them first. My heart would race as I walked into those huge rooms stacked with vinyl wondering what might be unearthed today. Was there an original copy of Nirvana’s Love Buzz just waiting for me to find it? Was that early Senseless Things EP lurking behind the ‘S’ divider in rock and pop? You had to earn that sense of discovery and it was part of the whole experience. Now, you can simply type the letters into google and order a copy from eBay or HMV or wherever. You don’t earn it. You just get it.
3. I no longer feel like a ‘fan’
It’s as though I’ve lost my loyalty to my favourite artists. I used to feel like a fan because I painstakingly searched out rare editions, and spent ages reading lyric sheets. I had to listen carefully to music rather than simply letting it wash over me, because I needed to tend to the needle on the vinyl. So listening was far more active than it is today. I invested in my favourite bands’ work. Now, I just pay a monthly subscription and have a soulless, open relationship with any and all music that I think is kind of OK...
4. Vinyl has become an aesthetic
Vinyl has always looked and felt lovely, but now it spends too much time in its sleeve in the cupboard. Sure, we invest in keeping it safe and storing it appropriately. But I wouldn’t be surprised it many of us use it more for Instagram than we do for spinning on the turntable. Be honest, when you’ve got something on vinyl, how often do you take the easy route and play it on Spotify because, well, convenience?
5. Since selling my vinyl, I feel like a fraud
When you accumulate a vinyl collection, each one with a story behind it, it’s meaningful. It’s value is in how you were the lucky one who found the rare edition at the record fair, or remembering that day you spent in Offbeat records with your best mate, taking hours to choose what to spend your limited cash on then sitting outside and poring over your new purchases whilst smoking a Marlboro (because smoking wasn’t going to kill you back then either - oh the halcyon days of ignorance). Or you might have bought Hole’s Live Through This the moment it came out because you were such a super fan. Sure, when you’ve made the mistake of selling these glorious items you know you can always buy them back again, but somehow they feel different. You feel as though you’re starting again, like an imposter in the fan community. Because you didn’t hold onto it the first time around, how can you claim to be in love with Hole / Babes in Toyland / Senseless Things? You ruthlessly exchanged them for cold hard cash to pay for a night in the Welly Club. Harsh.
The problem is, although I identify that convenience - and me being spoilt by it - is the problem, I’m struggling to muster the strength to close those Apple or Spotify accounts and rely solely on hard copies of music. Even if I did, would it really recreate those same feelings? Knowing that there is always an easier way would surely dampen the joy?
In my world, the magic of vinyl has died, and I don’t know how to get it back. I guess the only way to reinvest in the music I love now is to get to more gigs, talk to more Facebook fan communities and shout about the new bands I discover. I will still occasionally buy vinyl - but I know it will play second fiddle to convenience. And that, my music-loving friends, is something I feel truly ashamed of!
If you love a music-themed book and fancy a great big dollop of 90s nostalgia, you might like my novel, The Twenty Seven Club, ‘a moving exploration of mental health, enduring music myths and why love can help us through’ STYLIST MAGAZINE
I totally understand what you are saying but thankfully this hasn't happened to me. I rarely go in to HMV for new vinyl. In fact I rarely buy new vinyl. Oh I do buy it when something comes new along that I like but most of my vinyl buying, and there is a lot of that going on, is at record fairs or second hand record shops. I have that buzz still today when I think of going to the record fair over in Preston tomorrow and flick through the boxes of records while my fingers grow number by the second. Finding records I have wanted for years and some I had forgotten about still fills my heart with joy. Spotify and YouTube are great to check music out on for me but I don't use either as a source of music listening. CD in the car and vinyl, always vinyl in the house.
I agree with this, although it is still sad. It seems like vinyl and cassettes can never really make a true comeback. I am thankful every day that my first and most enduring passion, for books, is still viable. I think the book has retained its status because it contains not only the words (the software!) but the delivery mechanism too. The book is resistant to technology. Even Amazon couldn't shift us to Kindle en masse. Perhaps the romance you associate with vinyl can now be found in the live show? Live music has turned out to be more permanent than recorded music.