Sarah P., The TVD First Date

“My dad has this amazing vinyl collection. He’s got all those rares and b-sides—it’s a treasure. From a really early point, I was introduced to those black, weird things that spin and make music. I could stare at the colorful titles for ages, as a toddler. One of my parents first gifts to me was the vinyl of Edo Lilipoupoli, a record full of unconventional children songs from the homonymous radio show. It’s a record that I still love listening to.”

“Dad was never bored to play me records, introducing me to what he always refers to as ‘real music.’ He would even make me mixtapes with the songs that I liked the most. Like the old school way—from the vinyl to the tape. We were sitting there for hours, listening to the music. It always felt like a ritual, an activity that I was always looking forward to. The perfect Saturday afternoon.

But I wasn’t allowed to touch the record player. ‘Look at us, but do not touch.’ I’m still feeling a little weird around a turntable. I am stressing out because I feel I should respect it. I’m afraid I’ll break it. I had this movie filming a while ago (Finding Sigi, director Aviv Kosloff) and at the final scene I had to put a record on. God, that was stressy!

Anyway, back to the innocent years, I remember literally falling in love with Tim Buckley. Man, the artwork of Goodbye and Hello! His angelic voice in combination with those cunning eyes were taking me to the dreamland. I was probably at the age of 8 when I first listened to “Phantasmagoria in Two.” It’s a song that never left me. One of those songs that I’ve kept the closest to my heart. I was asking dad to repeat that song again and again, wondering how somebody could be so sad.

My parents would listen to Bob Dylan, Lou Reed, Leonard Cohen, but also to Greek music—Dionysis Savvopoulos, Nikos Xylouris, and Manos Hadjidakis just to mention a few. The music I’ve listened to at our home’s living room has formed me. It has carved special memories somewhere in the back of my head. Those composers, singers, and lyricists taught me not to bother too much about the genres—if the music is evoking feelings, then it’s good.

I don’t know if it’s the warmth of the vinyl or our then inseparable family that makes me look back with such nostalgia.

When I was younger, I could spend hours at a record store. For some reason, I don’t do it anymore. Which is sad. It surely has to do with the easy access to the music that the internet provides. Apart from that, the fact that I don’t stay with my parents anymore, the fact that they’re not together anymore—I don’t know. I’m somehow blocked from searching for my next favorite record at a store. It used to be a family thing, you know? I would buy a record and go back home to show it to my folks and ask their opinion. Now, I’ll call to ask them about my songs. But that’s different. That’s not how it used to be.

I’m very happy that my releases all these years as I’m musically active have been on vinyl. I didn’t want “Free,” my first solo EP and the first release of EraseRestart, to be an exception. Somehow, when a record’s on vinyl feels more real to me. I want that my label presses records. We can’t ignore that we live in the digital era. We’d be stupid to ignore the change that the streaming services brought. From the other hand, we’re blessed living in a world that even the most difficult ones can find a way to enjoy music. It’s like a modern Eden, but we only know how to complain.

Some people say that the past years we’re experiencing the vinyl revival. To be honest, I don’t think that vinyl was ever gone. But even if we see it as a trend (triggered by the vintage madness), I see it positively. Nowadays everything is so fast. Taking the time to put a record on and sit down to really, actively listen to it, well, it’s a step toward quality. It’s raising our standards. Or maybe I am too romantic, after all.”
—Sarah P.