Image credit: Luke Chesser via Unsplash.com
I have subscription to Spotify. For around £10 a month I have access to virtually every musical genre known to human ears and millions upon millions of tracks. The algorithms know my tastes and provide me with perfect suggestions when I'm looking for something new. It's pure bliss.
My son, who turns into a teenager next month, has suddenly started taking a deeper interest in music. Like me he has varied tastes with his playlists that see country music stars rubbing up against the kind of tunes a parent yells "turn that racket down" at. 'Head-banging music' as my own parents would have called it.
It was back in the early 80s when I made my first purchases of vinyl 7 inches - having finally persuaded Mum and Dad to buy a record player. I remember taking my pocket money to Boots and coming away with Eurthymics Sweet Dreams clutched in my paws (yes, millennials, Boots used to sell music once upon a time!).
There was something to be said about that anticipation. Saving your pennies - £1.20 was a lot back then - and then finally getting the living room to yourself, wiping the dust off the needle and letting the magic happen. It's something my son just won't get. It's all instant gratification and I suppose there's nothing wrong with that. He can go on a musical journey right from the comfort of his phone these days, taking in a bit of early 20th century jazz alongside today's pop funk. His musical education is right there for the taking.
Maybe it's just nostalgia, but there's still something special about slipping the vinyl from the sleeve and hearing that crackle as the needle begins its journey...