My favorite ritual is when I bring a used record home. I remove the price tag and clean off all of the adhesive with lighter fluid. Then clean the jacket thoroughly; this gives time to savor the artwork. There may be an LP/CD debate regarding sound quality but as to the beauty and majesty of the packaging dissention must be mute. Graphics 12" square will always have more impact and detail than the Lilliputian offerings hiding in their jewel cases (there's a misnomer for you). Next, a spin in the cleaning machine. After getting clean who puts on dirty clothes? So we inspect the inner sleeve and replace it with a new one if it is not in good shape or does not, itself, contain engaging graphics. Finally a plastic slip cover is placed over the outside of the jacket and the appropriate place on the shelf is determined. But not before playing, of course. Nothing beats that moment when I put on a mono Miles Davis recording and the ghosts of long-dead musicians haunt my listening room as if they have been given life for a few brief moments. Strange hobby, no?
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Very true. Listening to classical recordings, I get nostalgia for a bygone era (a shrink would say I'm avoiding reality:)).
Vinyl for me is a strictly "listening to music" affair -- as if I were at a concert.
All the paraphernalia (cleaners, dusters, etc)are out and at easy reach. I usually have a listening programme which starts with a "kind" of music (concerto, jazz, etc). I locate the records and take out a few in the beginning. These records are added to the "active stack" i.e. LPs that are next to the TT (rather than on the shelves) and comprises newly purchased ones (I love to LOOK at them for some days, as well as LISTEN).
Clean the stylus (even if it's clean) AND I spin the vinyl.
Then I sit comfortably with a glass AND a bottle (so as to refill with minimum effort), and the session begins. For me this is an "interactive" experience: sometimes I speak to the musicians (or laugh, etc -- as in some of F Zappa's lyrics/speaches).
Anyone here ever been moved by reproduced MUSIC to the point of tears (but never dared mention it)?? Of course I don't mean when you can't get speaker positioning right...
OK, I know, this isn't a manly thing, but still :)
Viridian - Being an afficiando of eccentricity of sorts (in the fine English manner), the stranger the better indeed! I had never thought of mono Miles... I will (being utterly earnest!) now.
Hail Gregm! I imagine the complete animal (man or woman) does --unashamedly-- cry. Hot crocodile tears have welled up a few times, and come to think of it, I cannot put my finger on why, it was not a plangent wail, nor out of joy. Perhaps the reproduced music acted as an agent abetting cathartic hubristic resolution of various ruminations summoned from slumber by the act of listening itself. This reply would not be original but that is why I am worthy of being called lowly A'non only - and not the venerable Aristotle (Poetics).
Other worthy fellows - let's hear some of your thoughts and anecdotes, lest we weep at the wall of silence ;)
I'd copied Viridian's beautiful phrase on "musicians haunting(ing the)... living room..." -- but it doesn't appear in my post?!? That's what the "very true" refers to... sorry if part of my post didn't make sense.
Worthy Agonanon: "...cathartic hubristic..."! A spot of tragic irony there (in the Aristotelian sense, of course)? Cheers