Very rarely do I have moments in which I can so vividly recall my youth that I am almost transported back to it. I experienced this phenomenon last week when I wandered into a record store on 14th street. When I walked into that store my senses exploded. In an instant I was flooded with feelings of excitement and nostalgia as I had completely forgotten what it was like to visit a record store and that we used to actually touch and interact with albums – gripping the group of albums that we wanted to look through and quickly flipping through with our index finger, the light thud the albums would make as they fell against each other and the faint whooshing noise you could hear as you quickly shuffled through the stack was soothing.
I remember my first record player and the first album that I owned – Aerosmith ft. Run DMC, Walk This Way. I remember my Dad’s extensive collection (which he still has to this day) and him going down to the basement and playing his music so loud that I swear he must have felt like he was at the concert. I remember staring at my Grandfather’s favorite blues albums the covers of which he loved so much he actually hung them on the wall, they now hang on mine.
So many album covers were pure art and the imagery was deliberately chosen to tap into the zeitgeist of the time.
I’d forgotten that beyond the actual music there was the experience.
I’d forgotten that beyond the actual music there was the art.
Here’s to slowing down and taking time to remember the days gone by.