“The first vinyl record I ever bought was The Velvet Underground & Nico—I don’t think it gets more cliché than that. I was 14, and in boarding school in Monterey, CA. I started making monthly visits to the record store downtown and each month picked out a record—sometimes just based off whether or not the album art gripped me. I miss that process of uncertainty.”
“I remember bringing the album home and it made my empty, undecorated dorm room feel full. Having the actual vinyl with you forced you to stare at the artwork and listen to the music at the same time. Today that audio-visual experience is replaced by a Spotify banner photo—usually a self-obsessed band photo (not that there isn’t any merit to that). It’s just a different experience. It’s less tangible. You don’t live through the ritual of sitting on the seat of a bus going home and gripping onto the texture of vinyl itself.
Earth Wind and Fire, Parliament, and Kool and The Gang have some of my favorite album artwork, but you wouldn’t be able to cherish it with the small window that streaming platforms provide you to view artwork. The ’70s took album art to a whole new level. There was such detail and such storytelling in the artwork itself—almost like a comic designed to propel you into the music, or at least provide a focus for your mind. Also, the layouts of some of these records were incredible. The best vinyl record in terms of layout that I own I think would have to be Black Moses by Isaac Hayes—the whole thing unfolds into a 5-foot, cross-shaped photo of Isaac at the edge of lake in robes with his arms spread out like a prophet.
In terms of the format of vinyl, I love the way songs were sequenced to compliment that 20-30 second period of silence when you would need to stop the turntable and flip the record from side A to side B. This provided a blueprint to design entire albums around; a divide that made the relationship between the final song on Side A and the first song on Side B imperative.
This moment, specifically, is so valuable in my opinion. If it’s a great record, the silence of the room around you almost makes you feel high. I miss that today. I feel as though it’s healthy to have a physical limit, or technological limit, influence a creative decision. It forces you to try to bend things out of shape. My favorite example being the end of Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band—in which the grooves of the record are designed for a loop of psychedelic Beatles-speak to play into eternity.
There will always be a technological influence on the creativity. I don’t like sounding like a granddad, so I embrace it, because I know in 5 years I’ll miss it. I suppose today it’s designing the first 30 seconds of your song to be as gripping as possible to accumulate as many streams as you can. I’m not such a fan of this one, but maybe there’s a way to be creative with it.
As a DJ, vinyl forced me to actually learn my records. Often times today someone will just hear a song out, drunkenly download it, and throw it onto their USB for their next DJ set, later realizing that they began mixing at the absolute worst section to mix from because they didn’t really get to know the record. I learned how to DJ on vinyl first, and in a perfect world, would only DJ vinyl—but club settings aren’t always ideal. You need to have the turntables mounted to prevent needle skipping from the audience dancing.
These days I end up recording a lot of my vinyl records onto my DAW and then bouncing them to WAV to use in my DJ sets if I’m DJing off CDJs. Especially for records made pre-digital era of recording. These records were mixed and mastered for the vinyl format. I think it’s important to honor that when possible.”
—Glassio
Glassio’s new EP, “Age of Experience” arrives in stores in November.
