Sorry, but the Rolling Stones song was the first thing that came to mind. Does it matter? This town’s been wearing tatters.
Category: music
-
Days of Vinyl
I remember my first “record player”. My siblings and I shared two suitcase box-type turntables: my younger brother and I claimed one that had an orange leatherette finish and my older sister had a patriotic red, white and blue-striped one.
Between my brother and I, our vinyl library consisted of maybe four records – no music, just stories. We spun our little 45s so often that it didn’t take long for those cheap turntables to really show their age.
Like most inexperienced spinners, we were taping pennies to the head of the play arm just so the needle would stay in the track. It wasn’t long before you heard more of the static and popping from dust and scratches than the actual recording. The fun officially ended when the record player my brother and I shared slid off the bed and smashed to pieces on the floor.
-
iTunes in ’84
When it comes to buying music, kids have it so easy these days. My son got a few iTunes gift cards for Christmas, so when he wants to buy a song he simply asks me and I download it for him (after scouring the lyrics for anything potentially harmful, of course). Just click and a buck twenty-nine later, the song is looped blaring ad nauseum from his iPod.
This is nothing like what my generation went through. If you really liked a song (usually because of frequent radio play, or seeing the video on MTV – back when they used to show videos) you either bought the single or, if you had no disposable income, you recorded it off the radio using your dual-deck, high-speed dubbing, “ghetto” blaster.
This method required a great amount of skill and timing. Once you released the “pause” button and “record” started, you could enjoy the song but you had to be really careful not to get carried away. If you “head-banged” or “air-guitared” too long you’d be nowhere near ready to pull off that near-impossible feat of stopping the recording.
In my mind a successful dub was one where you heard no DJ speak at all. Curse that ego-centric deejay, who loved the sound of his own voice, insuring the ruin of your song dub by starting his segue monologue early before spinning the next hit. You had to anticipate that precise moment when this would happen and be sure to pounce on that pause button. Failure to do so either meant dealing with the first few syllables of said deejay’s drivel forever on your cassette ‘o hits or waiting for an hour to try again.
The finger dexterity and listening skills acquired during those days of radio bondage were put to use as teens when we needed to quickly toggle between “play”, “fast forward” or “rewind” to go past the three or four “stinkers” on our superior quality cassette albums. Oh, the good old days.