“Someday, when I’m awfully low, when the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you, and the way you look tonight. . .”
There is a small corner of my home-studio dedicated to my vinyl collection. I have LP’s and 45’s dating back to my teens. The hisses, crackles and pops are part of the soundtrack of my childhood.
Years ago, my young daughter brought home an old vinyl record she wanted to hear. Since I was the only dinosaur she knew that still had a turn table, I was happy to oblige. “Dad, please play song number 3.” So, I lifted the tone arm and attempted to hover and locate the start of track 3. “What are you doing dad? Can’t you just press the number three button?”
Progress notwithstanding; a brand-new LP was a lot easier to open than a brand-new CD case.