Ladies and Gentlemen, I have a confession to make. Until today, I had not owned a record-playing turntable for over a decade.
I know. Disgraceful. But the truth is that when the last one died, it was when CDs were so utterly dominant that new ones came in but two flavours: the cheap and scary ones with a sanding disc for a slipmat and a roofing nail for a stylus; or ones that were very very very expensive. But now that vinyl is making a bit of a comeback, I decided that it’s time to once more take the plunge and reinvest in one.
And lets face it, they’re so much more fun. Artwork that one can actually see, silly messages in the run-off groove, backwards messages that ruined the needle, and just something you can actually see playing (and even whilst not playing – it was possible for example to see which tracks on 80s Metal LPs were the ballady ones just from the difference in surface groove density), all of which go towards that organic, snobby nature of the whole thing that I’ve missed so much. True, it’s tricky to get a Celtic Frost vinyl EP into the little slot in my car which makes CDs that little bit more necessary nowadays, but the bitterness remains from being lied to by Tomorrow’s World all those years ago about how indestructible (lies!), reliable (more lies!) and convenient (hmm. I’ll concede that one) Compact Discs were, so I’m currently in the middle of a nostalgic wossname by going through all my old records – because I would never have been so mad as to sell these things I’ve been unable to play since the time when Joey Ramone still walked the Earth – and enjoying new ones, such as this gem of an EP.
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