The New Boredom

Mah and Newer. Manure.


with 4 comments

I didn’t know why but I had this deep itch in my brain that needed scratching real bad.

In the last couple months I dug up everything I could to learn about turntables and speakers and receivers and all that shit. I love the music that I have but it was growing increasingly hollow to listen to any of it. So I spent a bunch of money on a bunch of neat new toys and dropped even more money on a bunch of vinyl records, basically re-purchasing all my favorite shit that always shows up in my most played list on itunes. I shopped around through musky old crates, sneezing out the dust and diving into the next row to beat the hipsters and smelly old nerds to that Joy Division LP or to that Rolling Stones with the cover that has seen better days. I’d cut a bitch to get to that Bobby Bland and I’d shiv you in the parking lot to take back that Martha Reeves that you grabbed out from under me. Music became something more important than just something to play through the speakers. Music became about the score of finding an album that I loved. It became a process of re-education and re-appreciation of the artists and albums that have become a part of me.

My generation has grown up in a world saturated with music. We can’t go shopping at any store without some on in the background. It plays in every tv show and every movie we have ever seen. Radios are always running in every car we’ve ever played passenger to. I grew up with a walkman jammed in my cargo shorts. Kids a few years younger than me have grown up with ipods shoved in their back pocket since elementary school. But how much of that music has my generation listened to? It’s often used to drown out the public so we don’t have to talk to strangers on the bus, heaven forbid we might make some sort of human connection. But with music ever present to us, we’ve become remarkably efficient at tuning it right out. We’d never know what we’ve got unless it all went away.

So when I go to the local record store and buy the new Black Keys LP on the release day and come home to throw it on my fancy new (old) turntable and play it through my fancy new (old) speakers and dial in the levels on my fancy new (old) receiver, it means something special. This is not just throwing my ipod in the dock. This is a process. I’m not skipping tracks, I’m hearing the pops of the imperfect vinyl pressing. I’m not trying to negotiate traffic in my car, I’m getting up every 15 minutes to flip the record. I’m not blazing through the McDonald’s drive-thru, I’m cooking a 5 course meal. It’s my hour of zen where I can put on music and actually hear it.

I can tell the rest of the world to fuck off for an hour, I’m busy doing what I’ve already been doing all day. Only now it counts.

The new Black Keys is great by the way.



Written by photokevo

May 19, 2010 at 4:22 am

Posted in Nerd Out With Me

Tagged with ,

4 Responses

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  1. eh, good for you!…..Twist and Shout is a mandatory $75 visit when you own a turntable though.

    Comcast was nice enough to send 15 billion amps through the power line and fry my turntable, now it spins in a demonic fashion; backwards.

    oh, and those pops and cracks are from the equipment, they go away with finer needles; at which point vynil becomes some kind of enlightenment


    May 19, 2010 at 11:56 pm

    • lame about the turntable frying up! some of the records I got are pretty visibly scuffed. I like the pops and ticks. it’s like seeing film grain in a picture. just character.


      June 4, 2010 at 2:17 am

  2. Doing post-work to Brothers right now, good stuff!

    Eddie Clark

    May 26, 2010 at 7:03 pm

    • Hell yeah Eddie! I’m listening to it on vinyl right now since i’m not supposed to see a rock concert right now under stupid doctor’s orders. what do they know?


      June 4, 2010 at 2:17 am

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