My Ode to Vinyl
In 1978, I owned over 500 albums. No one used the word vinyl back them. We figured the black plastic material was made of ground up tar pieces found in a driveway or some transmogrified version of black Lego blocks melted down at a factory by evil corporate overlords and reanimated as a Captain and Tennille record. Ahhhhhh!!!!! We also didn’t know anything about recycling. All products in the known universe either existed in their current form or were transported out to the city landfill to rot in a state of perpetual doom. Recycling was something you did with a cassette tape when you recorded Deep Purple over The Who.
I hate to admit this in public, but the first record I ever purchased was by Barry Manilow. I’ve been racked with guilt ever since. The album cover showed a picture of a gold statue of a guy wearing tailcoats while playing the piano. It didn’t really make any sense...
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