The acoustic revolt was slow to start. Over the last year, when listening to a CD or music files on Itunes, I became increasingly irritated and acoustically fidgety. It was as if I were listening to music with plugs of Kleenex shoved in my ears.
I. hated. it.
Vaguely, in the far recesses of my 46 year old brain, I recalled recorded music once sounding differently.
One Friday night, after a bottle of red wine had been slowly ex-sanguinated, I made a request of Tom.
"Honey, I want a turntable".
"Why, you never listen to music. Not really."
"I know, but I want one. I think if we had one, I might."
The next day, the my wine-bogged brain had forgotten the request, but my sharp-eared husband had not. On my 47th birthday, I untied the red bow on my Audio-Technica turntable.
This blog will map our quest for vinyl. It will also follow my rediscovery of music. I do not yet understand why the pressed recording pleases and the digitized aggravates, but pretty sure I will figure it out.
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