By Jim Kaplan
Um, I listened to a lot of records. When I’m listening to records I’m not talking. And that’s a good thing. I love records. I love the artwork, the covers, the inserts, the shrink wrap, the hype stickers. The smell. I like thinking about Hellen, who wrote her name on about 30 classic jazz records I picked up at a yard sale 20 years ago. I love the music stashed in that one long groove. I love the machines that get the music out of that one long groove. I don’t understand the engineering. It’s out of my league. But that makes it more magical. Listening to music seems to bring me back in time. I remember when I heard my first hot stamper from Better Records. I thought I was sixteen again. At least my ears seemed that good. Sixteen year old ears. Or was it a really special pressing on some bad ass equipment that made up for the difference between my sixteen year old ears and my sixty four year old ears?
I was watching Steve Guttenberg, the Audio-philiac, on his YouTube chan-nel and he brought up listening to Led Zeppelin back in the ’60s and how it sounded, better. I agree. I don’t even know what I was listening on. Probably my neighbors JBL’s. I have no Idea what the table and amp etc., were. The speakers were suspended from the corners of the ceiling, I think. Maybe. Anyway, there seemed to be a weight to the sound that’s missing today. I wonder if it’s my ears?
Does the fancy equipment I listen to make up for my lousy ears?
It doesn’t matter. I’m just enjoying listening. Not talking.
We’re going to make it through these next few months with elegance, class, humor, strength and style. Because we’re record collectors, dammit.
Happy Listening.
CORRECTION: We apologize for having neglected to give the correct credit for a photo that ran in the Nov. 2017 issue on page 6. The credit should have read: Photo by Larry Philpot, www.soundstagephotography.com. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons BY-SA 3.0 License. https://creative commons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0