Tag Archives: love for vinyl

#395: Poem on April 22, 2021

On April 16 of 2020 I wrote a poem about turntables. I even used this image as an illustration. Having forgotten about that poem, as one does, I set out today to write another poem about turntables–a little bit in keeping with today’s prompt from Napowrimo to write a poem in which an object becomes a symbol for a place or a time. I wrote this poem this evening, and then I thought to myself, I know I’ve got a good image in my media library I could use for this poem, and then when I found the image, I thought to myself, wow, I’ve probably written about this subject before. Lo and behold, April 16 of 2020 I wrote about turntables. I just almost typed a quip about feeling like a broken record. I’m so glad I stopped myself. Anyway, here’s another poem about one of my favorite past times.

Poem on April 22

Here it is: the turntable.
Even after the 90 minute
hi-fidelity blank cassette tape
made it possible to listen
to a full album without
having to flip sides,
the turntable was still
ubiquitous. Our pirate
activities entailed borrowing
albums from friends, placing
the needle down on to the
record, waiting a second
or so after the initial plosive
plop for the stylus to
nestle into the groove,
then, quickly, so as not
to truncate the first notes
of the first song, we pushed
play and record at the same
time on our cassette decks.
Every once in a while,
we’d have to take a second
pass, but after some practice,
we got pretty good at timing
things just so. These were
the glorious 70’s and 80’s
of childhood and early
adulthood, when 45 minutes
of continuous play was
as good as it got, and the
occasional pop or snap
from the vinyl was immortalized
the same way for
every playback, forever,
or until the tape went stale
or the machine chewed it up.
The turntable has made
a stunning comeback
in the last inning, and I’ve
caught the bug once again,
having sold all of my records
moving into the 90’s, replaced
every record with a compact
disc, and now, finding myself
replacing compact discs
with new records. I’ve come,
as they say, full circle, back
to myself, almost a second
childhood, where I’d love
nothing more than for a friend
to sit down with me to listen
to a record, which used to be,
and could be again,
a real thing.

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#107: Ode To Vinyl

 

VinylRecords_TriangleWeb

The love poem for my dear wife is forthcoming, especially in light of all she’s been through lately.  Need some time to get it right, though, so, today’s assignment from NaPoWriMo is to write a love poem for an inanimate object. Here’s to another love:

Ode To Vinyl

I was 23 and bought
the new gospel about the
superiority of the new
digital format,
the compact disc,
and I sold my entire vinyl
collection and used the proceeds
from two or three hundred records
to buy ten cd’s.
Vinyl, please forgive me.
I’ve come back to you again,
24 years later, and you’re so
much heavier now, in a
good way, and often
more colorful, and I remember
now why I loved you so,
the listening so much more
intimate, the way I had
to gently lift you from
your sleeve, the way my
fingers attentively touched
only the edges, the way I
could only leave you alone
(but rarely did) for fifteen
minutes, the way I turned
you over lovingly on
the turntable, the pop
and hiss you made initially,
all fading away with the warmth
of the music. I’m rediscovering
all of that afresh.
So ultra hipster is the new
vinyl enthusiasm, that
the digital download of my
new Beck LP comes complete
with opening and closing
pops and crackles–and that
beautiful alarm at the end
of each side A and B,
the fwump fwump fwump
that tells us that for now,
until we make our next
deliberate move, the music is over.

 

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Filed under Culture, Music, Poetry