OR Tapes, an apologia.
I've been indulging in behaviour which, in the mind of any sane observer, is highly likely to be symptomatic of a midlife crisis (you can have those at 36, right?). Some time back, my rational and sensible wife pointed out to me that I hadn't listened to a tape in years, and yet I had quite a lot of tapes. Meaningful comments were made about the space said tapes took up.
Now. Obviously I don't want to bin them. I'm not a hoarder as such, but I do place an undue sentimental emphasis on some objects (cue cry of "So you ARE a hoarder"). In the case of my big box of tapes there is a memory or story attached to most. I can remember where pretty much all of them came from, gifts, bought, mysteriously acquired during my brother's short-lived shoplifting phase. Compilations I had a good long think about, weighing the importance of one track or another, compilations thoughtfully made for me. These tapes are kind of the stuff of life. But yes, I had to concede, the likelihood pf me ever listening to them again was remote. Who has a tape deck?
Then I discovered that said rational and sensible wife, who is not possessed of a sentimental streak herself except when it comes to her husband had rather thoughtfully bought me a tape-MP3 converter. And so, on those occasions I've been sat at the computer, writing, paperworking, wrestling with recalcitrant tasting night menus, the odds are I've been converting some old tape to MP3. This evening, for example, it's Cud.
Now, why pointless? well, nostalgia-fans, lets not kid ourselves. The audio quality of tape was never its selling-point. The audio quality of tapes which have been shoved in a box for fifteen years and multiple house moves....not even as much. The likelihood of me listening to these mp3s is only marginally greater than me listening to the tapes. They hiss, they fade in and out. Some of the bands haven't dated at all well, either (this evening's par example). Those songs I do like I could, by the magic of The Modern Internet be listening to in crystal clear (if slightly over-compressed) digital sound in a matter of seconds. But that's not the point, is it?
Take XTC's English settlement. A birthday present from a friend at a time when I had various bad things swirling around me. I listened to it to death, and even though I have various tracks from it on MP3 already listening to the album through (y'know, like albums are supposed to be listened to) took me back to a place where it still mattered when people did things like that. Or Kingmaker's Ten Years asleep EP, the first single I ever bought with my own hard-earned money (earned by getting up at four in the morning to cycle to Tintagel to open a bakery up). It's not aged well, but I still love what it represents.
So yeah, quite a lot of pointless nostalgia, but pointless nostalgia with a point.
I've been indulging in behaviour which, in the mind of any sane observer, is highly likely to be symptomatic of a midlife crisis (you can have those at 36, right?). Some time back, my rational and sensible wife pointed out to me that I hadn't listened to a tape in years, and yet I had quite a lot of tapes. Meaningful comments were made about the space said tapes took up.
Now. Obviously I don't want to bin them. I'm not a hoarder as such, but I do place an undue sentimental emphasis on some objects (cue cry of "So you ARE a hoarder"). In the case of my big box of tapes there is a memory or story attached to most. I can remember where pretty much all of them came from, gifts, bought, mysteriously acquired during my brother's short-lived shoplifting phase. Compilations I had a good long think about, weighing the importance of one track or another, compilations thoughtfully made for me. These tapes are kind of the stuff of life. But yes, I had to concede, the likelihood pf me ever listening to them again was remote. Who has a tape deck?
Then I discovered that said rational and sensible wife, who is not possessed of a sentimental streak herself except when it comes to her husband had rather thoughtfully bought me a tape-MP3 converter. And so, on those occasions I've been sat at the computer, writing, paperworking, wrestling with recalcitrant tasting night menus, the odds are I've been converting some old tape to MP3. This evening, for example, it's Cud.
Now, why pointless? well, nostalgia-fans, lets not kid ourselves. The audio quality of tape was never its selling-point. The audio quality of tapes which have been shoved in a box for fifteen years and multiple house moves....not even as much. The likelihood of me listening to these mp3s is only marginally greater than me listening to the tapes. They hiss, they fade in and out. Some of the bands haven't dated at all well, either (this evening's par example). Those songs I do like I could, by the magic of The Modern Internet be listening to in crystal clear (if slightly over-compressed) digital sound in a matter of seconds. But that's not the point, is it?
Take XTC's English settlement. A birthday present from a friend at a time when I had various bad things swirling around me. I listened to it to death, and even though I have various tracks from it on MP3 already listening to the album through (y'know, like albums are supposed to be listened to) took me back to a place where it still mattered when people did things like that. Or Kingmaker's Ten Years asleep EP, the first single I ever bought with my own hard-earned money (earned by getting up at four in the morning to cycle to Tintagel to open a bakery up). It's not aged well, but I still love what it represents.
So yeah, quite a lot of pointless nostalgia, but pointless nostalgia with a point.
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