I have this running joke with a friend from work - she refers to me as her bartender, kinda like her doctor, her hairdresser, her mailman. We laugh about this, and while I can't speak for her, the amusement on my end comes from thinking about how one might refer to any of these people labeled with a profession in the following manner:
a) My doctor says I should exercise more.
b) My hairdresser says I should try this special shampoo.
c) My mailman says that I should always send important letters via certified mail.
d) My bartender says I should have another drink.
One can easily justify following the advice of these people - at least letters a through c., because:
a) He's a doctor - he makes his living by making people healthy, therefore he should know about things that would be good for his patients.
b) She's a hairdresser - she makes her living taking care of people's hair, therefore she should know about things that would be good for someone's hair.
c) He's a mailman - he makes his living delivering mail, therefore, he should know about things that one should do with important letters.
d) He's a bartender - he makes his living by making things for people to drink, therefore he should know when someone is thirsty.
Oh it's not always so simple, and yet at the same time, it is. A bartender can be expected to do any or all of the following things: Serve a customer drinks and/or food, answer questions about food and/or drinks, amuse people, comfort people (I guess there's a lot of room in the term comfort), greet/welcome people, provide sports scores (something I notoriously suck at), put the game on, turn the game off, "make me something good", "make me something bad" (hello Cement Mixer shots) listen, not listen, settle a bet, provide a trivial answer about damn near anything, or shut the hell up, and in general, know who's Pope. It's kind of all fair game at any given moment, surprising as any of it can be. You wear a lot of hats in this gig folks.
If you're not feeling well and that continues, you'll most likely call your doctor. If you need a haircut, you may prolong it, but sooner or later you're gonna see your stylist. Mail questions/issues? You know who to ask. Have a bad day at work? You will likely see your bartender. The following conversation will not take place:
Man or woman having a bad day at the office - any profession will do:
Holy God am I having a bad day - I'm gonna call my bartender, see if I can get in tonight immediately after work. Dials a number, phone rings:
Bartender: Riley's Bar & Grill, Mick speaking...
Man or Woman: Oh thank God you're open. Listen, I'm having the crappiest day at work - can I get in tonight as close to 5:30 as possible?
Bartender: Whaddya know, I just had a cancelation - I can squeeze you in around 5:45 for a drink or ten...
Never happens. People don't make appointments with a bartender, they just show up. My favorite part of the showing up, is the moment where there is a mutual warmth in the exchange of "How ya doin'?"
I'm doing great - the first My Bartender Says post is now in the can...er, on the blog. I've no flippin' idea what the next one will be about, but hey, gotta start somewhere right? Have a great Tuesday and a great week people!
Sarcasm spoken here
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Saturday, April 27, 2013
What the actual F***
Lately there's this thing going around on the world's most popular social networking site - y'know, the blue one, that completely mystifies me - yet people seem to be falling for it. It seems to be irresistible to more than a few people, kind of like a question from elementary school or on a game show, where the answer is so obvious that it comes out of your mouth at the very second your mind thinks it. Kinda like this:
Q: What color is the sky on a sunny day?
A: Blue!
I may be overstating just how simple this current trend is, but given how surprising it is to me, that anyone with an ample amount of brain cells would respond to something like this, I doubt it. So what, exactly, am I talking about? Stuff like this:
Name a state that doesn't have the letter "e" in it - it's harder than you think!
W.T.F.?? Really? What the actual F?
No, it isn't. It's not hard at all, and I'm not saying that because I flippin' live in one. Yet for some reason, a surprising number of people will find something like this all but impossible to resist typing a response to. I don't really feel like writing much today, but keep your eyes out on the blue and white the next time you're there. Meanwhile, name a word in the English language that doesn't have a letter from the alphabet in it...
Have a great weekend everyone!
Q: What color is the sky on a sunny day?
A: Blue!
I may be overstating just how simple this current trend is, but given how surprising it is to me, that anyone with an ample amount of brain cells would respond to something like this, I doubt it. So what, exactly, am I talking about? Stuff like this:
Name a state that doesn't have the letter "e" in it - it's harder than you think!
W.T.F.?? Really? What the actual F?
No, it isn't. It's not hard at all, and I'm not saying that because I flippin' live in one. Yet for some reason, a surprising number of people will find something like this all but impossible to resist typing a response to. I don't really feel like writing much today, but keep your eyes out on the blue and white the next time you're there. Meanwhile, name a word in the English language that doesn't have a letter from the alphabet in it...
Have a great weekend everyone!
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Vinyl is my ex - part 5 MP3
Yes, I still miss Vinyl. Hindsight is always 20/20 and it's easy to see that we had a good thing going all along. I guess it's possible that we could get back together, but it seems unlikely. Things just wouldn't be the same. I'm still living with Compact Disc, and for the last seven years or so, I've been seeing someone much younger. Her name, as you probably already know, is MP3. In some ways, she's not as good to me as Vinyl was, and she's nowhere near as impressive to my friends and family.
When I first heard about MP3, I wasn't the least bit attracted to her. Zero appeal. But then my friend made a statement about her that forced me to reconsider:
Doug - showing me his iPod: I have practically my entire music collection in this device that's smaller than a pack of cigarettes - that's pretty fucking cool. (Paul Mason, if you're reading this, I believe this to be a direct quote.)
I know I questioned the fidelity, and yes, it's more than a little ironic that: a) The word fidelity has two meanings that can both be applicable - 1) The degree of exactness which something is copied or reproduced 2) Faithfulness to a person, cause or belief, demonstrated by continuing loyalty and support., b) That I would expect and/or demand fidelity when I am openly admitting to having cheated on Vinyl with others, and ultimately leaving her for another woman. (metaphorically speaking, duh)
In terms of the degree of exactness that music is copied/reproduced in an MP3 format, I'll use the example sentence on my Mac widget dictionary:
The 2013 recording in MP3 format provides reasonable fidelity.
I uh, changed that sentence a bit to accommodate the subject matter, but that's a pretty good way to say it. The fidelity of MP3 music is reasonable. A perfect match for smaller speakers connected to my Mac, the smaller shelf systems that I listen to music on these days - and in the car. Also a perfect match for the iPod(s) - and that, good people, is what I like best about MP3 - she travels light. She's always up for road trips - short ones, long ones - doesn't matter, if I'm going, she's in. She's ready to go on a moment's notice, never asks where we're going or why we're going, doesn't care how long we stay, doesn't care what we do. I've yet to not have enough room for all of her things.
On trips to the store, or to work, she entertains me. At the gym she entertains, motivates, and guarantees that my workouts aren't interrupted by mindless chatter. She doesn't bitch or complain about the days when I use one song repeated over and over to motivate my entire workout - sometimes it's a tune like The Allman Brother's version of Statesboro Blues - because she knows that I don't want to hear the crap music that's booming out of the spinning class. Like I'm gonna workout with something like Lady Gaga in my noise canceling/isolation earphones?? Gimme a flippin' break - though if I did want to listen to bubblegum music, all I'd have to do is say so - MP3 will do whatever I want.
I'd never say as much to her, but she's not much to look at. Zero cover art, same for liner notes. But she travels lighter than anyone and she'll do whatever I want, as best she can. I'm not gonna lie and say she sounds as good as Compact Disc or Vinyl, but she does sound reasonably good. Not as thin and tin-ie as I'd thought - and that came as a surprise. It's an odd mix of being completely for the ears, which, when we're talking about music, is admirable, and being against the ears in terms of lack of pure high quality fidelity. It's more about the music itself being the very air that my soul breathes.
It's also a little mind boggling, that I can download a tune I like through mid air - no wires needed. Having a large music collection guarantees me that if I have a song stuck in my head, it's a good one - because when you have a large music collection, you like a lot of songs. Songs are air, food and water for my soul - and I can never not hunger for more. In an odd way, and one that I never thought I'd like at all, MP3 seems to capture this vibe perfectly. She's so much more than Cassette could ever have dreamed of being in terms of convenience. She's a bit like having a concealed carry license with the ability to hide it from everyone. Oh the songs I can walk around with - and I do.
A friend recently commented on one of these posts, that once he met the younger Compact Disc, he never looked back. Another friend once told me that I couldn't move forward if I kept looking back. Yet when it comes to my love affair with recorded music, I can't help but look back at the days I spent with Vinyl. No matter what technological advances that will come in recorded music, Vinyl will always be my favorite - even if I never see her again. No complaints, I accept full responsibility for the choices I made.
When I first heard about MP3, I wasn't the least bit attracted to her. Zero appeal. But then my friend made a statement about her that forced me to reconsider:
Doug - showing me his iPod: I have practically my entire music collection in this device that's smaller than a pack of cigarettes - that's pretty fucking cool. (Paul Mason, if you're reading this, I believe this to be a direct quote.)
I know I questioned the fidelity, and yes, it's more than a little ironic that: a) The word fidelity has two meanings that can both be applicable - 1) The degree of exactness which something is copied or reproduced 2) Faithfulness to a person, cause or belief, demonstrated by continuing loyalty and support., b) That I would expect and/or demand fidelity when I am openly admitting to having cheated on Vinyl with others, and ultimately leaving her for another woman. (metaphorically speaking, duh)
In terms of the degree of exactness that music is copied/reproduced in an MP3 format, I'll use the example sentence on my Mac widget dictionary:
The 2013 recording in MP3 format provides reasonable fidelity.
I uh, changed that sentence a bit to accommodate the subject matter, but that's a pretty good way to say it. The fidelity of MP3 music is reasonable. A perfect match for smaller speakers connected to my Mac, the smaller shelf systems that I listen to music on these days - and in the car. Also a perfect match for the iPod(s) - and that, good people, is what I like best about MP3 - she travels light. She's always up for road trips - short ones, long ones - doesn't matter, if I'm going, she's in. She's ready to go on a moment's notice, never asks where we're going or why we're going, doesn't care how long we stay, doesn't care what we do. I've yet to not have enough room for all of her things.
On trips to the store, or to work, she entertains me. At the gym she entertains, motivates, and guarantees that my workouts aren't interrupted by mindless chatter. She doesn't bitch or complain about the days when I use one song repeated over and over to motivate my entire workout - sometimes it's a tune like The Allman Brother's version of Statesboro Blues - because she knows that I don't want to hear the crap music that's booming out of the spinning class. Like I'm gonna workout with something like Lady Gaga in my noise canceling/isolation earphones?? Gimme a flippin' break - though if I did want to listen to bubblegum music, all I'd have to do is say so - MP3 will do whatever I want.
I'd never say as much to her, but she's not much to look at. Zero cover art, same for liner notes. But she travels lighter than anyone and she'll do whatever I want, as best she can. I'm not gonna lie and say she sounds as good as Compact Disc or Vinyl, but she does sound reasonably good. Not as thin and tin-ie as I'd thought - and that came as a surprise. It's an odd mix of being completely for the ears, which, when we're talking about music, is admirable, and being against the ears in terms of lack of pure high quality fidelity. It's more about the music itself being the very air that my soul breathes.
It's also a little mind boggling, that I can download a tune I like through mid air - no wires needed. Having a large music collection guarantees me that if I have a song stuck in my head, it's a good one - because when you have a large music collection, you like a lot of songs. Songs are air, food and water for my soul - and I can never not hunger for more. In an odd way, and one that I never thought I'd like at all, MP3 seems to capture this vibe perfectly. She's so much more than Cassette could ever have dreamed of being in terms of convenience. She's a bit like having a concealed carry license with the ability to hide it from everyone. Oh the songs I can walk around with - and I do.
A friend recently commented on one of these posts, that once he met the younger Compact Disc, he never looked back. Another friend once told me that I couldn't move forward if I kept looking back. Yet when it comes to my love affair with recorded music, I can't help but look back at the days I spent with Vinyl. No matter what technological advances that will come in recorded music, Vinyl will always be my favorite - even if I never see her again. No complaints, I accept full responsibility for the choices I made.
Friday, April 19, 2013
I blame the Shack
Yesterday, I ended up buying an extra pair of work shoes...unexpected purchase, but never mind the details - there's nothing to see here people. So I'm at a shoe store that's ten, maybe fifteen minutes from where I work. I find exactly the shoes I want and head to the register only to find one very slow moving checkout line.
Right as I'm about to get my turn at the registers, my phone goes off and it's my manager, Brian, calling. My phone is perpetually on vibrate, so I missed his call - but he texts me:
Brian: Can you grab bandaids?
Of course I can. I'm a total team player, so now I start to think about exactly where, between the shoe store and work, I can buy bandaids. My window of time has narrowed down to exactly the amount of minutes I need to pay for my shoes and make it back to work on time - I may have an extra ten minutes or so of padding due to the bandaid request, then again, someone may just be bleeding enough to need 'em. It's not like the following scenario is taking place:
Any of our talented, and hard-working kitchen staff: Damn! Cut my finger! Hey, we're out of bandaids!
Brian: No problem - I'll call Chris and have him pick some up while he's out buying acceptable work shoes. Just keep a kitchen towel wrapped around it until he gets back!
What happens next, not only evaporated all of my extra minutes, but now it's delaying the arrival of band aids - someone at work is bleeding for God's sake!
Checkout Girl: Did you find everything you need today?
Me, thinking: No - I'd actually like to get back out of this painfully slow moving line and look around some more...but screw it, I've got band aids to buy and a job to get to....on time.
Me, speaking: Do you have bandaids?
Checkout Girl: Bandaids???
Me: Never mind, yes.
Checkout Girl: Awesome....looks like you've got a right and a left, both the same size.
Me, thinking: Lucky I'm not planning on wearing 'em to go dancing - in which case, I've been told I have two left feet.
Me, speaking: Great - our work here is done.
Checkout Girl: ...and if I can just have your phone number for your coupon.
Me, thinking: I'm kinda gettin' low on time, and for the love of God, I've got bandaids to buy.
Me, speaking: Blah, blah, blah...blah, blah, blah....blahblahblahblah.
Checkout Girl: Clickity-click, type, type, type - pause.......
At this point, time is an odd combination of the exact number of minutes I need to get back to work, with bandaids, shooting by, and time standing completely still.
Checkout Girl: Have you shopped with us before?
Me: I have not.
Checkout Girl: Ok, well I'll just get your name and address and enter you in our shopper program, only take a second.
This is the exact moment that my mind flashes back to the last time I was in a Radio Shack store - though I have no flippin' idea when that was. Those fuckers! This is all their fault! They started this shit! Hit up a Shack for one stupid little adapter-circuit-electronic-switch-cord-fuse thingy, or, a simple 9 volt battery and they would take down all of your fucking information, including your mother's maiden name and you get Radio Shack catalogs for life, as mandated by congress. Fuckers! And if you move? The catalogs will show up at your new house before you do. Fuckers! As far as I'm concerned, Radio Shack invented junk mail. By the way, it takes much more than a second to sign you up for their shopper program. And yes, F bombs galore - blame those fuckers at the Shack.
Before I pull out of the parking lot, I shoot Brian a text:
Me: Yup - any specific kind?
I stop at Heinen's on my way back to work. No reply from B, so I'm gonna wing it. In a restaurant kitchen, you need every kind of bandaid from the size of your pinky, to a full-on bed sheet sized, in case you lose a man and they have to be carried out on a stretcher and covered because nobody wants to see that - but that hardly ever happens, so I'll just get two boxes of bandaids and get back to work.
As I'm pulling out of the parking lot, my phones goes off with a text alert - it's Brian:
Brian: Dora The Explorer.
Best smartass reply ever - and I know a thing or ten about being a smartass. I laugh, even though I know that back at work, someone is bleeding and this is no time for laughter. Gotta go, time to empty my mailbox of shoe coupons and Radio Shack propaganda.
Right as I'm about to get my turn at the registers, my phone goes off and it's my manager, Brian, calling. My phone is perpetually on vibrate, so I missed his call - but he texts me:
Brian: Can you grab bandaids?
Of course I can. I'm a total team player, so now I start to think about exactly where, between the shoe store and work, I can buy bandaids. My window of time has narrowed down to exactly the amount of minutes I need to pay for my shoes and make it back to work on time - I may have an extra ten minutes or so of padding due to the bandaid request, then again, someone may just be bleeding enough to need 'em. It's not like the following scenario is taking place:
Any of our talented, and hard-working kitchen staff: Damn! Cut my finger! Hey, we're out of bandaids!
Brian: No problem - I'll call Chris and have him pick some up while he's out buying acceptable work shoes. Just keep a kitchen towel wrapped around it until he gets back!
What happens next, not only evaporated all of my extra minutes, but now it's delaying the arrival of band aids - someone at work is bleeding for God's sake!
Checkout Girl: Did you find everything you need today?
Me, thinking: No - I'd actually like to get back out of this painfully slow moving line and look around some more...but screw it, I've got band aids to buy and a job to get to....on time.
Me, speaking: Do you have bandaids?
Checkout Girl: Bandaids???
Me: Never mind, yes.
Checkout Girl: Awesome....looks like you've got a right and a left, both the same size.
Me, thinking: Lucky I'm not planning on wearing 'em to go dancing - in which case, I've been told I have two left feet.
Me, speaking: Great - our work here is done.
Checkout Girl: ...and if I can just have your phone number for your coupon.
Me, thinking: I'm kinda gettin' low on time, and for the love of God, I've got bandaids to buy.
Me, speaking: Blah, blah, blah...blah, blah, blah....blahblahblahblah.
Checkout Girl: Clickity-click, type, type, type - pause.......
At this point, time is an odd combination of the exact number of minutes I need to get back to work, with bandaids, shooting by, and time standing completely still.
Checkout Girl: Have you shopped with us before?
Me: I have not.
Checkout Girl: Ok, well I'll just get your name and address and enter you in our shopper program, only take a second.
This is the exact moment that my mind flashes back to the last time I was in a Radio Shack store - though I have no flippin' idea when that was. Those fuckers! This is all their fault! They started this shit! Hit up a Shack for one stupid little adapter-circuit-electronic-switch-cord-fuse thingy, or, a simple 9 volt battery and they would take down all of your fucking information, including your mother's maiden name and you get Radio Shack catalogs for life, as mandated by congress. Fuckers! And if you move? The catalogs will show up at your new house before you do. Fuckers! As far as I'm concerned, Radio Shack invented junk mail. By the way, it takes much more than a second to sign you up for their shopper program. And yes, F bombs galore - blame those fuckers at the Shack.
Before I pull out of the parking lot, I shoot Brian a text:
Me: Yup - any specific kind?
I stop at Heinen's on my way back to work. No reply from B, so I'm gonna wing it. In a restaurant kitchen, you need every kind of bandaid from the size of your pinky, to a full-on bed sheet sized, in case you lose a man and they have to be carried out on a stretcher and covered because nobody wants to see that - but that hardly ever happens, so I'll just get two boxes of bandaids and get back to work.
As I'm pulling out of the parking lot, my phones goes off with a text alert - it's Brian:
Brian: Dora The Explorer.
Best smartass reply ever - and I know a thing or ten about being a smartass. I laugh, even though I know that back at work, someone is bleeding and this is no time for laughter. Gotta go, time to empty my mailbox of shoe coupons and Radio Shack propaganda.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Vinyl is my ex - Part 4...who are these others??
If it's names you want, then I guess I've got 'em - I mean sooner or later, you're gonna find out anyway, so you might as well hear it from me. Yes, I cheated on Vinyl with Compact Disc, and, to a lesser extent, Cassette Tape - we've already talked about that, I don't know what else to tell you there, so let's just get past that. How many times can a guy say he's sorry Vinyl? I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry. Yes, I'm an audio shit-heel. I admit it - happy now? You're right. I deserve it.
At least I never went out with DAT (Digital Audio Tape) - even if it was because she was doomed to fail right from the start. What if I told you that you could listen to your music with all the clarity of Compact Disc, some of the awkward bulk of 8-track tapes, none of the wow factor of cover art and liner notes and be wicked tough to find, and you have to buy an expensive component to play it on? Who DAT? Not only that, the tape can only be recorded and played in one direction. What? How the hell am I supposed to get the Satanic messages from the music if I can't play it backwards??? Oh wait a minute, I've never played music backwards - who the fuck DOES??
I worked a part time job in a record store (which was about what it would be like for an alcoholic to work in a liquor store - it happens.) during the month or so DAT was trying to make the scene. The reason I never even talked to her, was because if we were going to be cheating on Vinyl and justifying it for reasons like unparalleled clarity, and no surface noise or wear and tear on said surfaces of recorded music, DAT was still a tape running over a head - so my friends, in my faux audio lab scientist conclusions, which allowed me to ever so briefly sound like I was an authority on such matters, DAT wasn't good enough for me. There would be no kicking myself over that one.
While we're talking about the girls of Tape, I guess we can talk a little about Reel-to-Reel - and no, before you even ask, I did not cheat on Vinyl with Reel-to-Reel, though I have to admit, those pricey components and the very use of them, held a bit of snob appeal. Few things, if any at all, said major audiophile, serious audiophile like one of those upright Reel-to-Reel tape decks. Holy God, does that ever look impressive - yes, it does. Pretty fucking cool. (Paul M, if you're reading this, that was for you...Sir!) It was a bit like cake with an impressive audio system - one can't have it and eat it too. By the way, in my world of impressive audio system nomenclature, impressive was basically any stereo system that cost a minimum of one meeeeeeeeeellllllyun dollars...uhm, I mean, one thousand dollars - sorry. Much as I'd love to say I had, or have a device like that, do I really want to hassle with miles of hyper-thin tape that I have to thread, possibly with hands that have lifted one or two too many drinks in a given evening, tape that is thinner than tissue paper and would likely twist into ruin should I breathe on it the wrong way? Nope. When I was going out with Vinyl, one friend remarked, upon seeing me remove a record from its sleeve, clean it with my DiscWasher and put it on the turntable, that I had the hands of a surgeon. I laughed. He swore he was serious. I'm not gonna lie, both of us lifted more than a few drinks that night - I won't swear to it, but we may have lifted a joint or two as well. Those were the days. Alas, I didn't actually possess the hands of a surgeon, but I'd be damned if even a little recreational drunkenness was going to make me mistreat my beloved Vinyl. Please.
As long as I'm coming clean, I'd better tell you that I did give serious thought to cheating on Vinyl with Compact Disc's younger sister, MiniDisc - not for long mind you, but in this case, even a few seconds of serious thought, when directed at an idea as stupid as this one was, is a very long time. The thought is as good as the act of cheating here. Yet I did consider this seriously for a hot minute. Don't judge - it never actually happened, but I did, however briefly, want it to happen. Now is the part where I give mad props to my old buddy Jeff, for making me see the light on that one, the way only Jeff's sarcastic, slamming-you-and-laughing-at-you-while-pointing-at-you-in-the-hopes-of-getting-others-to-laugh-at-you observations can do. Every time. Every fucking time. I've been friends with Jeff for the better part of 40 years, and he never misses with stuff like this - and if you're a big enough person to enjoy a laugh at your own expense, and to allow others to do so, this is a blessing. Oh it'll sting for a minute or two, but once you realize he's right, you really don't have a choice but to laugh. I don't know anyone who has the uncanny ability to lay in wait for moments like these as Jeff does. The fucker isn't even paying attention when you do or say the embarrassing thing that he's about to capitalize on - and his timing is impeccable. He knows exactly how long to wait and allow you to think, "Whew, jeezus that was fucking stupid of me, I'm glad Jeff didn't notice that one." No such luck - he did notice, and you're gonna pay for it, so take it like a man - because if you cry about it, it's gonna be so much worse. Trust me.
So yes, Jeff pointed out just how stupid I was being to even consider adding a MiniDisc component to my system. More specifically, just how fucking stupid that idea was. When Jeff points out such foolishness, you listen. If he were a financial advisor and you should disregard his advice, you'd be flat broke forever - and he wouldn't give a shit, because he told you so and you did it anyway. To make matters worse, he's still going to laugh at your stupidity - so let once be enough, straighten up and fly right, and for the love of God, don't buy a fucking MiniDisc playing/recording device. Jeff never has suffered fools, he never will either, and that's one of the things I love about him. Once, when Jeff was driving to Florida with another buddy, Pat, he was looking through Pat's case of Cassette Tapes for music to play. Pat had forgotten all about the Air Supply tape that his girlfriend (allegedly...snicker, snicker) kept in his car. I wasn't there mind you, but I know Jeff, and this is what went down:
Jeff: AIR SUPPLY??? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?? WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT DOING IN YOUR CAR???
Pat, more than a little embarrassed, rightfully so: That's Anne's, she put that there, I swear to God - it's NOT mine Bubba
Jeff, pushes the button on the passenger side window of Pat's car, which thankfully, is moving down the highway at 80 m.p.h. : Fuck this shit...whips the Air Supply tape out the open window.
As you might imagine, I took Jeff's advice and avoided the MiniDisc entirely - well, not entirely, I had a Joe Jackson MiniDisc that came with a real Joe Jackson release that I bought, and that is what made me consider, however briefly, cheating on Vinyl with MiniDisc. I'm no angel, but I do feel good about that one. In the next installment, I'll tell you about my experiences with the Devil child of recorded music, MP3.
At least I never went out with DAT (Digital Audio Tape) - even if it was because she was doomed to fail right from the start. What if I told you that you could listen to your music with all the clarity of Compact Disc, some of the awkward bulk of 8-track tapes, none of the wow factor of cover art and liner notes and be wicked tough to find, and you have to buy an expensive component to play it on? Who DAT? Not only that, the tape can only be recorded and played in one direction. What? How the hell am I supposed to get the Satanic messages from the music if I can't play it backwards??? Oh wait a minute, I've never played music backwards - who the fuck DOES??
I worked a part time job in a record store (which was about what it would be like for an alcoholic to work in a liquor store - it happens.) during the month or so DAT was trying to make the scene. The reason I never even talked to her, was because if we were going to be cheating on Vinyl and justifying it for reasons like unparalleled clarity, and no surface noise or wear and tear on said surfaces of recorded music, DAT was still a tape running over a head - so my friends, in my faux audio lab scientist conclusions, which allowed me to ever so briefly sound like I was an authority on such matters, DAT wasn't good enough for me. There would be no kicking myself over that one.
While we're talking about the girls of Tape, I guess we can talk a little about Reel-to-Reel - and no, before you even ask, I did not cheat on Vinyl with Reel-to-Reel, though I have to admit, those pricey components and the very use of them, held a bit of snob appeal. Few things, if any at all, said major audiophile, serious audiophile like one of those upright Reel-to-Reel tape decks. Holy God, does that ever look impressive - yes, it does. Pretty fucking cool. (Paul M, if you're reading this, that was for you...Sir!) It was a bit like cake with an impressive audio system - one can't have it and eat it too. By the way, in my world of impressive audio system nomenclature, impressive was basically any stereo system that cost a minimum of one meeeeeeeeeellllllyun dollars...uhm, I mean, one thousand dollars - sorry. Much as I'd love to say I had, or have a device like that, do I really want to hassle with miles of hyper-thin tape that I have to thread, possibly with hands that have lifted one or two too many drinks in a given evening, tape that is thinner than tissue paper and would likely twist into ruin should I breathe on it the wrong way? Nope. When I was going out with Vinyl, one friend remarked, upon seeing me remove a record from its sleeve, clean it with my DiscWasher and put it on the turntable, that I had the hands of a surgeon. I laughed. He swore he was serious. I'm not gonna lie, both of us lifted more than a few drinks that night - I won't swear to it, but we may have lifted a joint or two as well. Those were the days. Alas, I didn't actually possess the hands of a surgeon, but I'd be damned if even a little recreational drunkenness was going to make me mistreat my beloved Vinyl. Please.
As long as I'm coming clean, I'd better tell you that I did give serious thought to cheating on Vinyl with Compact Disc's younger sister, MiniDisc - not for long mind you, but in this case, even a few seconds of serious thought, when directed at an idea as stupid as this one was, is a very long time. The thought is as good as the act of cheating here. Yet I did consider this seriously for a hot minute. Don't judge - it never actually happened, but I did, however briefly, want it to happen. Now is the part where I give mad props to my old buddy Jeff, for making me see the light on that one, the way only Jeff's sarcastic, slamming-you-and-laughing-at-you-while-pointing-at-you-in-the-hopes-of-getting-others-to-laugh-at-you observations can do. Every time. Every fucking time. I've been friends with Jeff for the better part of 40 years, and he never misses with stuff like this - and if you're a big enough person to enjoy a laugh at your own expense, and to allow others to do so, this is a blessing. Oh it'll sting for a minute or two, but once you realize he's right, you really don't have a choice but to laugh. I don't know anyone who has the uncanny ability to lay in wait for moments like these as Jeff does. The fucker isn't even paying attention when you do or say the embarrassing thing that he's about to capitalize on - and his timing is impeccable. He knows exactly how long to wait and allow you to think, "Whew, jeezus that was fucking stupid of me, I'm glad Jeff didn't notice that one." No such luck - he did notice, and you're gonna pay for it, so take it like a man - because if you cry about it, it's gonna be so much worse. Trust me.
So yes, Jeff pointed out just how stupid I was being to even consider adding a MiniDisc component to my system. More specifically, just how fucking stupid that idea was. When Jeff points out such foolishness, you listen. If he were a financial advisor and you should disregard his advice, you'd be flat broke forever - and he wouldn't give a shit, because he told you so and you did it anyway. To make matters worse, he's still going to laugh at your stupidity - so let once be enough, straighten up and fly right, and for the love of God, don't buy a fucking MiniDisc playing/recording device. Jeff never has suffered fools, he never will either, and that's one of the things I love about him. Once, when Jeff was driving to Florida with another buddy, Pat, he was looking through Pat's case of Cassette Tapes for music to play. Pat had forgotten all about the Air Supply tape that his girlfriend (allegedly...snicker, snicker) kept in his car. I wasn't there mind you, but I know Jeff, and this is what went down:
Jeff: AIR SUPPLY??? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?? WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT DOING IN YOUR CAR???
Pat, more than a little embarrassed, rightfully so: That's Anne's, she put that there, I swear to God - it's NOT mine Bubba
Jeff, pushes the button on the passenger side window of Pat's car, which thankfully, is moving down the highway at 80 m.p.h. : Fuck this shit...whips the Air Supply tape out the open window.
As you might imagine, I took Jeff's advice and avoided the MiniDisc entirely - well, not entirely, I had a Joe Jackson MiniDisc that came with a real Joe Jackson release that I bought, and that is what made me consider, however briefly, cheating on Vinyl with MiniDisc. I'm no angel, but I do feel good about that one. In the next installment, I'll tell you about my experiences with the Devil child of recorded music, MP3.
Monday, April 15, 2013
Vinyl is my ex - Part 3. Yes, there were others
Vinyl. I still miss her. The more I think of her and my love of music, the more I miss her. It's not as if I have nothing to do with recorded music. It's not as if I want my collection of music to dwindle and stop expanding. It's not as if I can hear new songs from artists I wasn't aware of and not feel like I need to add to my collection. Yes, I am still seeing recorded music and it's a relationship that I value and one that I just have to nurture. I don't have the ability to walk away from her. No matter how much my enjoyment of recorded music goes on, no matter how much songs move me, Vinyl was the best thing for listening to any of the songs that moved me - and there were many. There are many. There will be many more. There have been others in my love affair with music, there are others, but I guess we just grew apart. I know that sounds cliche, and more than a little lame - but I'm man enough to admit that I was wrong. Cut me some slack there people - in all his coolness, even Fonzie couldn't admit it when he was wrong...well, he could admit it, but he sure couldn't say it.
8 track tapes never held any appeal for me. They couldn't have. Cover art reduced to packaging that demanded it be thrown away, and reduced to a decal on bulky plastic box that was the equivalent of a VCR tape. I didn't spend much time listening to any music in this format, I wouldn't even talk to her, no matter what she had in the way of my favorite artists. My sisters both had 8 track players though, and I always thought they sounded really crappy.
Cassette tapes were another story. The fidelity wasn't as good as Vinyl, she had far less appeal in her liner notes and cover art - which was bad even in my younger days. Liner notes and cover art are things I want to look at and read - and take it all in. It's a bit like the information on medicines as one gets older - a bunch of information that I need to read, crammed into a bunch of fine print that is all but impossible to read without taking off my glasses, putting them back on and trying to manually focus by holding the information in my hand and moving it closer to, or further away from my eyes, walking to various places to find better lighting - It just shouldn't be that difficult to read information that is important. Cassette's virtue was that she allowed me to copy music to take it with me in the car, or get a copy of songs I needed to learn for any of the various bands I played in. A bit like a football player being given a playbook - only much cooler. Yes, I saw Cassettes while I was in a relationship with Vinyl. Vinyl could handle it though, and our relationship never suffered for it - in fact, it brought us closer together. Not the case when I met Compact Disc, temptress that she was.
When Compact Disc first started showing up, she seemed to have everything that a beautiful new girl on campus had going for her. All eyes were on her, that's for sure. It didn't matter how long anyone had been together with Vinyl - most people were drawn to Compact Disc and were more than willing to wine and dine her. My own resistance to her was futile. Looking back on when I first started cheating on Vinyl with Compact Disc, it was an odd mixture of doing something I suspected I shouldn't be doing, yet I wanted to do it. She wasn't coming home with me unless I spent some of my hard earned cash on a component she could play on. When I asked her what was in it for me, there was a touch of arrogance in her reply:
Compact Disc: What's in it for you?? Un-paralleled clarity and sound quality, if you think you can handle that, and you should, if you're half the man of musical taste that you say you are, the ability to control your playback of music via remote control, and you can play the songs in any order you choose to - not just the order that they're on the record in...
Me: Why would I want to do that??
Compact Disc: I can't answer that - but you will from time to time, and that's the kind of feature that will come in handy when you're still going out with Cassette Tape, tramp that she is, I'll let you program the songs that you're going to put on her, so you don't have to get up off your lazy ass to lift the arm from your precious Vinyl, nor lay a hand on Cassette's buttons - you can just record what you need her to have. When you say things like that, it makes me not even want to come over - maybe you need to decide if you actually want to see me, and if you're not going to appreciate the clarity and sound quality that a real music lover should, maybe you're just not all that interested in me and what I can do for your music appreciation.
Me: OK, OK...I'll do it. I'll pop for the expensive player, stop and get some stuff to listen to on my way home - any suggestions?
Compact Disc: I'm not about to tell you what music is important enough to you to enjoy enhanced sound quality and my other good points - figure it out if you're interested.
And so the affair began. I bought a Sony compact disc player and I was immediately impressed with a feature called marking, which enabled you to pick a starting point in a song - and anywhere in the song mind you, and an ending point and keep playing it back. For those of you who might not see the appeal in a feature like this, if there was a part of a tune that had a break or a cool lick that I was trying to cop in learning the tune, this feature made it very easy to repeat it to facilitate learning it. While this wasn't a feature I used all that often, it was cool nonetheless. I guess that wasn't a feature that had much mass appeal, because I don't think you can still get that capability on Compact Disc players today.
I'm ashamed to say it now, but little things like this made cheating on Vinyl easy. I didn't even feel guilty about it. I started caving in to the whole snob appeal/keeping up with the Joneses trip of having things on Compact Disc and being proud of it and wanting others to know.
I remember a friend talking about how thrilled he was to listen to Beatles music on Compact Disc. I was too - but really, how can Beatles songs sound anything but good? Easy, they can't. How can any music that I like not sound good? It can't, unless I'm not in the mood for it and I want to hear something else. Maybe I'm on my way home from a loud rock gig and my ears are fried and I don't want to hear anything - and this has happened a lot, but it's temporary. Why? Because music is like food - I'm always going to eat again, and I'm always going to listen to music again. Always.
Of course the Beatles sounded good on Compact Disc. For the most part, so did other music that I like. And so my affair with Compact Disc continued. My collection grew. And this was the start of an affair that is still going on today - albeit nowhere near as frequently as my affair with MP3 formatted music. Before you call me a slime ball, it's complicated people. I can explain - and I'll do a bit more explaining in my next post. And yes, I know I was a fool to let her go.
8 track tapes never held any appeal for me. They couldn't have. Cover art reduced to packaging that demanded it be thrown away, and reduced to a decal on bulky plastic box that was the equivalent of a VCR tape. I didn't spend much time listening to any music in this format, I wouldn't even talk to her, no matter what she had in the way of my favorite artists. My sisters both had 8 track players though, and I always thought they sounded really crappy.
Cassette tapes were another story. The fidelity wasn't as good as Vinyl, she had far less appeal in her liner notes and cover art - which was bad even in my younger days. Liner notes and cover art are things I want to look at and read - and take it all in. It's a bit like the information on medicines as one gets older - a bunch of information that I need to read, crammed into a bunch of fine print that is all but impossible to read without taking off my glasses, putting them back on and trying to manually focus by holding the information in my hand and moving it closer to, or further away from my eyes, walking to various places to find better lighting - It just shouldn't be that difficult to read information that is important. Cassette's virtue was that she allowed me to copy music to take it with me in the car, or get a copy of songs I needed to learn for any of the various bands I played in. A bit like a football player being given a playbook - only much cooler. Yes, I saw Cassettes while I was in a relationship with Vinyl. Vinyl could handle it though, and our relationship never suffered for it - in fact, it brought us closer together. Not the case when I met Compact Disc, temptress that she was.
When Compact Disc first started showing up, she seemed to have everything that a beautiful new girl on campus had going for her. All eyes were on her, that's for sure. It didn't matter how long anyone had been together with Vinyl - most people were drawn to Compact Disc and were more than willing to wine and dine her. My own resistance to her was futile. Looking back on when I first started cheating on Vinyl with Compact Disc, it was an odd mixture of doing something I suspected I shouldn't be doing, yet I wanted to do it. She wasn't coming home with me unless I spent some of my hard earned cash on a component she could play on. When I asked her what was in it for me, there was a touch of arrogance in her reply:
Compact Disc: What's in it for you?? Un-paralleled clarity and sound quality, if you think you can handle that, and you should, if you're half the man of musical taste that you say you are, the ability to control your playback of music via remote control, and you can play the songs in any order you choose to - not just the order that they're on the record in...
Me: Why would I want to do that??
Compact Disc: I can't answer that - but you will from time to time, and that's the kind of feature that will come in handy when you're still going out with Cassette Tape, tramp that she is, I'll let you program the songs that you're going to put on her, so you don't have to get up off your lazy ass to lift the arm from your precious Vinyl, nor lay a hand on Cassette's buttons - you can just record what you need her to have. When you say things like that, it makes me not even want to come over - maybe you need to decide if you actually want to see me, and if you're not going to appreciate the clarity and sound quality that a real music lover should, maybe you're just not all that interested in me and what I can do for your music appreciation.
Me: OK, OK...I'll do it. I'll pop for the expensive player, stop and get some stuff to listen to on my way home - any suggestions?
Compact Disc: I'm not about to tell you what music is important enough to you to enjoy enhanced sound quality and my other good points - figure it out if you're interested.
And so the affair began. I bought a Sony compact disc player and I was immediately impressed with a feature called marking, which enabled you to pick a starting point in a song - and anywhere in the song mind you, and an ending point and keep playing it back. For those of you who might not see the appeal in a feature like this, if there was a part of a tune that had a break or a cool lick that I was trying to cop in learning the tune, this feature made it very easy to repeat it to facilitate learning it. While this wasn't a feature I used all that often, it was cool nonetheless. I guess that wasn't a feature that had much mass appeal, because I don't think you can still get that capability on Compact Disc players today.
I'm ashamed to say it now, but little things like this made cheating on Vinyl easy. I didn't even feel guilty about it. I started caving in to the whole snob appeal/keeping up with the Joneses trip of having things on Compact Disc and being proud of it and wanting others to know.
I remember a friend talking about how thrilled he was to listen to Beatles music on Compact Disc. I was too - but really, how can Beatles songs sound anything but good? Easy, they can't. How can any music that I like not sound good? It can't, unless I'm not in the mood for it and I want to hear something else. Maybe I'm on my way home from a loud rock gig and my ears are fried and I don't want to hear anything - and this has happened a lot, but it's temporary. Why? Because music is like food - I'm always going to eat again, and I'm always going to listen to music again. Always.
Of course the Beatles sounded good on Compact Disc. For the most part, so did other music that I like. And so my affair with Compact Disc continued. My collection grew. And this was the start of an affair that is still going on today - albeit nowhere near as frequently as my affair with MP3 formatted music. Before you call me a slime ball, it's complicated people. I can explain - and I'll do a bit more explaining in my next post. And yes, I know I was a fool to let her go.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Vinyl is my ex...Part two
It's Saturday morning and I'm heading to the record store, albeit the digital one via my online music account. As I mentioned in my last installment, Vinyl is my ex girlfriend. Undoubtedly, she'd be a bit unhappy about my visiting this record store, and she'd be right - it's a pretty shallow visit. This kind of store pretty much cuts out the experience of being in a record store, and that's an experience that a music enthusiast/music snob rather enjoys. I broke up with Vinyl long ago, but over the years, I have never had anything but good things to say about her - and I always liked going to her house, record stores.
I've never been much for the bigger corporate chain record stores - I tend to favor smaller chains and independent stores. For one thing, the prices are usually better at the smaller stores. More important, the selections are usually better in the independent stores. Bigger chains have all the stuff that is aimed at the general buying public - fine for people whose tastes run solely off of what's on the radio, not good at all for someone like myself who spends much more time on musical side roads, and likes it there.
For starters, when you walk into a record store, there's music playing. Walk into the right record store and you'll likely find something playing that is every bit as cool as what you came in for in the first place. If you're anything like me, you may have several things in mind, or nothing at all and just be in the mood to look for something different to hear. The very act of spending a bit of time in a record store is, to me at least, an experience I enjoy for numerous reasons. One of those reasons is clutter. Clutter never looked so good as it does in an independent record store. I'm not talking about the kind of clutter where you can't find anything, I'm talking about the kind of clutter where you can find too much - the kind of clutter where you can find everything. As comedian Steven Wright once said:
You can't have everything - where would you put it?
Maybe I can't. But when I walk into a record store, in that world, I feel like I want everything, and I feel like I can have it. This kind of everything does require a bit of real estate mind you - but I'm okay with that. Few things in the way of material possessions come anywhere near the comfort of a large collection of recorded music on the shelves. Once when I was having dinner at a friend's house, a group of us were talking about the number of compact discs we had. On that particular evening, my number was higher than anyone else - and by a long shot. That's not my point. What happened next, was my host saying something that really got me thinking: How in the world could you ever listen to that much music? My response was to the effect of, how could I not?
There doesn't seem to be an end in sight to my finding new music and different artists - nor do I wish there to be. I guess it dwindles down a bit from time to time, but it always surges again and my desk becomes littered with Post-It notes of songs by artists that I want to hear more of. I have to say I miss the days of walking into a record store and leaving with a stack records under my arm. Nothing, at least in my world, is a better shopping experience than that. You don't get that with MP3 formatted music.
Standing in a record store and gazing at cool new releases, or music that I've yet to add to my library and listening to something I may never have thought to add to it, is a very good place to be. I'm there ultimately to do something for my ears and my very soul - but standing there, wandering around and flipping through possibilities is good for all the other senses too. In contrast, when I hear a friend tell me how he found a site that allowed him to get everything that the Beatles ever put out, and do so for free via downloading the files, it bugs me. Why? Because that music is not only worth having, it's worth paying for - and I like the thought of thinking I want it enough to pay for it. As a friend in Nashville put it, today's younger generation seems to feel that they have a God-given right to free music. Dislike.
I've spent a small fortune on recorded music, and I've done so because it means something to me. It's more than just background music. MP3s have one thing going for them - the song itself. But the song itself suffers due to the lack of higher quality fidelity. I never thought I'd say it, but I live with that when I buy, and listen to music in this format. Everything else suffers. No cover art wow factor. You can't hand it to a friend and tell 'em to check it out. Unless you have it playing, no one is going to notice it and ask, or comment on it. It is, what music is all about in the first place, a feast for the ears. In a geeky, musical snob kind of way, I like a lot of that other stuff that has nothing to do with what's going on for the ears. It is pretty cool to have the convenience of carrying around a large music collection in a device that's about the size of a pack of smokes - I can't deny that. As a matter of fact, I love that - but not as much I love Vinyl.
If you've ever seen the movie, High Fidelity, or read the book, Songbook, then you have a very good idea about the kinds of senses I'm talking about here. Some of the conversations that take place in record stores are worth taking in as well - and this was captured perfectly in the movie I mention. I suppose you could say that I'm a bit of a music snob, at least in terms of recorded music and being a bit proud of the good taste in music that I've often been told I have - and I don't feel the need to be told that, as much as I appreciate it when others notice it, because I love walking through life with my taste in music. Being in a record store and overhearing conversations with various customers and the staff is a bit like being a celebrity and being out in public and not getting recognized - if that makes any sense. You stand there silent, taking it all in with your ears, the music, the conversation, all while making your way through the alphabet with your fingers and your eyes - you see, or touch something and the radio in your mind plays something that you're either missing,or that you want...and off you go, maybe you even think about where you're going after you get to the section you're walking towards. It's an experience that takes me away from all other thoughts. If I'm shopping for groceries, I want to get what I need and get it over with. If I'm shopping for clothes, pretty much the same thing. But if I'm shopping for music, I want to savor the experience - it's almost never a one and done trip. Something else always grabs me and makes me think. I walk by things in a music store and it changes what I'll leave with. That never happens in an online music store, because it's the most shallow of retail experiences. It's quicker and more efficient - but I seldom come away from the experience richer than I intended, like I often do when I'm in a record store.
I get the convenience factor of MP3s, and I like it more than I ever thought I would, but there is no way I'll ever like it as much as I love Vinyl - and that's true regardless of whether or not we get back together. If MP3 were the jealous type, she'd hit me with the fact that I'll never love her the way I love Vinyl and how Vinyl was perfect - and I'd have to man up and admit it, even if only to myself. I doubt I could put up a front and say that's not true - not even to spare her feelings. For the record - some pun intended, I still like holding and reading actual books too. Matter of fact, I haven't caved to the whole Kindle type of reading experience - yet.
I've never been much for the bigger corporate chain record stores - I tend to favor smaller chains and independent stores. For one thing, the prices are usually better at the smaller stores. More important, the selections are usually better in the independent stores. Bigger chains have all the stuff that is aimed at the general buying public - fine for people whose tastes run solely off of what's on the radio, not good at all for someone like myself who spends much more time on musical side roads, and likes it there.
For starters, when you walk into a record store, there's music playing. Walk into the right record store and you'll likely find something playing that is every bit as cool as what you came in for in the first place. If you're anything like me, you may have several things in mind, or nothing at all and just be in the mood to look for something different to hear. The very act of spending a bit of time in a record store is, to me at least, an experience I enjoy for numerous reasons. One of those reasons is clutter. Clutter never looked so good as it does in an independent record store. I'm not talking about the kind of clutter where you can't find anything, I'm talking about the kind of clutter where you can find too much - the kind of clutter where you can find everything. As comedian Steven Wright once said:
You can't have everything - where would you put it?
Maybe I can't. But when I walk into a record store, in that world, I feel like I want everything, and I feel like I can have it. This kind of everything does require a bit of real estate mind you - but I'm okay with that. Few things in the way of material possessions come anywhere near the comfort of a large collection of recorded music on the shelves. Once when I was having dinner at a friend's house, a group of us were talking about the number of compact discs we had. On that particular evening, my number was higher than anyone else - and by a long shot. That's not my point. What happened next, was my host saying something that really got me thinking: How in the world could you ever listen to that much music? My response was to the effect of, how could I not?
There doesn't seem to be an end in sight to my finding new music and different artists - nor do I wish there to be. I guess it dwindles down a bit from time to time, but it always surges again and my desk becomes littered with Post-It notes of songs by artists that I want to hear more of. I have to say I miss the days of walking into a record store and leaving with a stack records under my arm. Nothing, at least in my world, is a better shopping experience than that. You don't get that with MP3 formatted music.
Standing in a record store and gazing at cool new releases, or music that I've yet to add to my library and listening to something I may never have thought to add to it, is a very good place to be. I'm there ultimately to do something for my ears and my very soul - but standing there, wandering around and flipping through possibilities is good for all the other senses too. In contrast, when I hear a friend tell me how he found a site that allowed him to get everything that the Beatles ever put out, and do so for free via downloading the files, it bugs me. Why? Because that music is not only worth having, it's worth paying for - and I like the thought of thinking I want it enough to pay for it. As a friend in Nashville put it, today's younger generation seems to feel that they have a God-given right to free music. Dislike.
I've spent a small fortune on recorded music, and I've done so because it means something to me. It's more than just background music. MP3s have one thing going for them - the song itself. But the song itself suffers due to the lack of higher quality fidelity. I never thought I'd say it, but I live with that when I buy, and listen to music in this format. Everything else suffers. No cover art wow factor. You can't hand it to a friend and tell 'em to check it out. Unless you have it playing, no one is going to notice it and ask, or comment on it. It is, what music is all about in the first place, a feast for the ears. In a geeky, musical snob kind of way, I like a lot of that other stuff that has nothing to do with what's going on for the ears. It is pretty cool to have the convenience of carrying around a large music collection in a device that's about the size of a pack of smokes - I can't deny that. As a matter of fact, I love that - but not as much I love Vinyl.
If you've ever seen the movie, High Fidelity, or read the book, Songbook, then you have a very good idea about the kinds of senses I'm talking about here. Some of the conversations that take place in record stores are worth taking in as well - and this was captured perfectly in the movie I mention. I suppose you could say that I'm a bit of a music snob, at least in terms of recorded music and being a bit proud of the good taste in music that I've often been told I have - and I don't feel the need to be told that, as much as I appreciate it when others notice it, because I love walking through life with my taste in music. Being in a record store and overhearing conversations with various customers and the staff is a bit like being a celebrity and being out in public and not getting recognized - if that makes any sense. You stand there silent, taking it all in with your ears, the music, the conversation, all while making your way through the alphabet with your fingers and your eyes - you see, or touch something and the radio in your mind plays something that you're either missing,or that you want...and off you go, maybe you even think about where you're going after you get to the section you're walking towards. It's an experience that takes me away from all other thoughts. If I'm shopping for groceries, I want to get what I need and get it over with. If I'm shopping for clothes, pretty much the same thing. But if I'm shopping for music, I want to savor the experience - it's almost never a one and done trip. Something else always grabs me and makes me think. I walk by things in a music store and it changes what I'll leave with. That never happens in an online music store, because it's the most shallow of retail experiences. It's quicker and more efficient - but I seldom come away from the experience richer than I intended, like I often do when I'm in a record store.
I get the convenience factor of MP3s, and I like it more than I ever thought I would, but there is no way I'll ever like it as much as I love Vinyl - and that's true regardless of whether or not we get back together. If MP3 were the jealous type, she'd hit me with the fact that I'll never love her the way I love Vinyl and how Vinyl was perfect - and I'd have to man up and admit it, even if only to myself. I doubt I could put up a front and say that's not true - not even to spare her feelings. For the record - some pun intended, I still like holding and reading actual books too. Matter of fact, I haven't caved to the whole Kindle type of reading experience - yet.
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