I’m Going to Listen to Everything, Redux

Nearly 100 poems ago, I wrote about the desire to listen to every record in my collection from A-Z. This is a bit of a pattern for me, as, more than twelve years ago now, I made a similar claim about my CD collection, that I would like to listen to at least a single CD by every artist represented on my shelves. I actually tried that one and over an entire decade the best I could do was get to the letter H. For both endeavors, the one I actually tried and the one that I am just fantasizing about now, the purpose would be twofold: for one, I would listen to music that I have neglected in favor of new acquisitions and therefore widen my listening palette, and two, I’d be able to justify my collection. In the same way that it is kind of silly to have purchased way more books than I can possibly read in a lifetime (guilty), it is also silly to own records and CDs that never get listened to. I spend way more time “looking” at many of the titles in my collections than I do listening to or reading them. It’s actually a pleasant past-time, just sitting there, looking at the spines, occasionally pulling one out to look at the cover a bit before carefully putting it back in its place. Taken as a whole, looking at all of them organized in neat little boxes against one ten foot wall of my study, is like looking at a single portrait that represents my entire life in music. It’s quite a lovely sight, whether these records are listened to or not. But, alas, I’ll steal a line from Robert Frost: Something there is that doesn’t love a neglected record collection.

The CD listening project was also an excuse to write more. As I burned slowly through that endeavor, I wrote a little paragraph reflection or two about every album I spun. I think here, I would like to do a similar thing. Might there be some repetition? Perhaps. Even though I have tried not to buy records I already have on CD, I have done this more often than I would like to admit, and certainly, many of the artists in my CD collection are also in my record collection. So how do I avoid sounding like a broken record (pun intended)? How do I get something new out of the practice? What if, in the process of listening, I decide what stays and what has to go? What continues to move me? What no longer floats my boat? What was I doing in the moment? What am I doing while I listen? What would it be like to write a little poem? For each record? For each artist? Give me a minute or two to think about this. I’ll get back to you!