“Imagine the height of teen angst. I looked like a big ’80s phony, smelled like cigarettes, and I was 15 years old. The year I truly discovered vinyl was the year I was introduced to Kierkegaard and had my first kiss. Patti Smith and The Velvet Underground had lyrics practically built into the sidewalk pavement of the East Village and I was determined to find them.”
“I grew up on 51st and 5th in midtown Manhattan. I went to school on the Upper East Side, where vinyl records definitely did not get lots of love and attention. Each weekend, however, I took the train downtown and got off by Chelsea Market, heading towards the little record stand in the back flea market. There was something so romantic about winter time, getting a vegetable soup at Bubby’s, walking on some cobblestone, and chatting with the French man who ran the record shop in the market. At first, this is what it was all about for me—the experience of going to buy the records. I was traveling back in time to meet my idols and doing so in what felt like a dream.
Not long after I started my new weekend ritual, my dad dug up his old record player. I was able to listen to my favorite album, The Rolling Stones’ Tattoo You, in tangible form which brought a new sense of life to the music I had loved for so long. I went to the record stores in the village and started buying my favorites: What’s Going On, Songs In The Key of Life, Horses. Caring for the records physically, protecting them, being meticulous about the way they were positioned on the shelf, validated my love for the music on a new level and created a bond.
In the digital age, we have access to an overwhelming, fantastic amount of music. Without spending thousands of dollars for a record collection, we can access art that people have talked about for decades for $10/month (don’t get me wrong, streaming is a mixed bag, but the beauty is in the access here).
Still, even in the face of the big bad web, Apple Music, Spotify etc, people are buying vinyl records. The power of caring for and connecting with your music tangibly is vital. When I am ninety years old, sitting down with a record player and my favorite artists will be like traveling back to the East village in winter time, smelling the soup from Bubby’s, and tripping over the cobblestone.
Music on vinyl has the power to introduce me to my idols and reintroduce me to my past self through sensory memory. I will always have a respect and admiration for the flat disk time machines living on my shelf.”
—BAUM
“Hot Water,” the new single from BAUM is in stores now.
