“My father loves music. Wait, as I’m saying this I’m realizing my father loves music as much as he loves sound. It’s my mother who loves music. There’s a huge difference. Let me unpack.”
“There’s the mystique of artists, the unknown, the legend, the fandom, the rituals, and most importantly the sense of wonder that never dies. That’s loving music. Loving music AND sound, well this basically means you aren’t afraid to dissect everything I just mentioned about loving music. The mystique of an artist is great and all, but, what guitar pedal got him to sound that good? Or, what studio did they record in, what mic did they use?
My father built his own home sound system. Between teaching music, running sound for multiple events, playing in bands (he still plays in one), and making sure that I didn’t break anything, he devoted his life to that one thing we all hunt—the perfect home stereo. And, as I’m sure you’ve probably put together, it was my mother who had quite the heavy hand in the vinyl we purchased for our home listening.
All of these things considered I’m sure you can imagine the reality of me being just buried in music as a child. Almost every photo of me growing up is by the turntable or wearing headphones. I was enamored with vinyl. Its size alone could swallow 8 cassettes or possibly 4 of the “new best thing—the compact disc.”
It didn’t make sense to me that anything besides vinyl existed. Visually, the images were so large you could SEE things in the background of the photos. You could get as lost in the art as you could the music. (This is a whole other subject which maybe if we reach a second date at some point…I’ll unpack). As I grew older so did the music industry. And looking back, we both made some cringeworthy mistakes. One of them being abandoning vinyl for some years. But like all true and loyal things in life, we return to them, like the prodigal son with open arms pretending like we never left.
It was college. I couldn’t stop listening to the band Portishead. And then it hit me—it’s the vinyl hiss. The compression on the samples the band was using brought out this hum and hiss that made it sound timeless. You see, you can never really shake an old form of music technology because as we leave them behind they become nostalgic. And it could be argued that at the foundation of almost every artistic endeavor is the pursuit of nostalgia. Its memories. And the memory is greater than the moment.
Here I was, listening to music on whatever pristine setup I had fashioned (thanks, dad) to a band with practically zero photos or interviews in an attempt to devour any and everything they could give me (thanks, mom). And when I uncovered this sonic impurity in the music. This “mistake” of vinyl hiss almost made me feel homesick. I craved it without even knowing it.
A few days later I asked my parents where they kept their old records and much like my forgotten need of them in my life, I could tell they felt the same. It wasn’t long after all of this that I acquired a simple turntable and figured out the cheapest (sorry, dad) way to project sound from a few thrift store records I purchased. It was good enough to quench my thirst for a year or so but I knew it wouldn’t last. This brings me to a very important chapter in this story. (Also, am I talking too much? I feel like I might be for a first date. But trust me this next part is important).
The record store.
You know that feeling you had on Christmas before you knew what normal life really even was? When you were blinded by the need to have something and it would infiltrate your mind for many restless nights as a child. It’s embarrassing I know. To burn for a material possession. But as a child, it’s almost… pure?!! I mean, don’t we kinda chalk it up to good parenting to pick out the weeds of material obsession? And before we learn these life truths, we writhe in agony over what we think we need!
This….. is a record store. When I walked into Grimey’s in Nashville, TN for the first time, I was overcome with the desire to own everything I saw. Nothing could satisfy my thirst. They had what seemed like every piece of vinyl my brain could fathom. And if they by freak of nature chance did not have what I wanted … they’d just order it.
I’ll never forget the first time I ordered something and they even called me. Soon I got to know the employees by name. We were kinda like …friends. Hunting the same things. Grimey’s threw parties for some albums and I’d come to them and eventually met some of my closest friends at these events. To this day one of my favorite things is to wait to listen to an album until the day it comes out. Go to my record store. Buy the album. Come home. Immerse.
And I guess here is where this introduction to me and records ends. With me still tinkering on my home stereo system and falling in love with music more and more every day. Thanks dad. Thanks mom.
Thanks Grimey’s.”
—JT Daly
Paper Route’s brand new third LP, Real Emotion is in stores now via Kemosabe Records/Sony Music Ent.—on vinyl.
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PHOTO: ALLISTER ANN
PAPER ROUTE ON TOUR:
Fri 11/4 – Chicago, IL – Beat Kitchen
Sat 11/5 – Minneapolis, MN – Skyway Theater, Studio B
Mon 11/7 – Pontiac, MI – The Pike Room at Crofoot
Wed 11/9 – Washington, DC – DC9
Thu 11/10 – Brooklyn, NY – Rough Trade NYC
Fri 11/11 – Hamden, CT – Ballroom at the Outer Space
Sat 11/12 – Philadelphia, PA – Milkboy
Mon 11/14 – Carrboro, NC – Local 506
Tue 11/15 – Atlanta, GA – The Masquerade, Purgatory
Wed 11/16 – Orlando, FL – BackBooth
Sun 11/20 – Nashville, TN – Exit/In
