We live in the age of recycled trends.
Over the past couple of years, it has become common to see old rock band T-shirts, old film photography filters and ’90s movie posters. This is slowly creating a retro-themed culture. One trend from this culture that is especially prevalent among my peers is vinyl collections.
Vinyl has been a staple music format for decades, and it has come back with a vengeance among the younger generations.
As I am beginning to think about this resurgence of vinyl, I realize it has turned into too much of a status symbol.
These little plastic discs have been polished from being a simple way of playing music to now being an image-building aesthetic for young people.
I have seen many of my peers build their style through their displays of vinyl, whether it’s Pinterest pins of their collections or decorating their walls with album covers in their living rooms. Many of my friends seem to think that they must achieve this status by buying record players and thrifting records from secondhand stores. Even modern artists are adapting to this trend and releasing vinyl records of their newest albums alongside the albums’ release on streaming platforms.
However, vinyl has not always been the status symbol it is now.
I have experienced two different perspectives on vinyl in my life: the first is illustrated above and comes mainly from my college friends, while the second comes from earlier in my life.
I did not grow up with a record player. I never had one until about four years ago, when I was gifted one with our new home. It came with some records that ranged from slow jazz to a random band from the ’70s I had never even heard of. Even with the presence of a record player in my home, I had not yet fully experienced the true nostalgia of vinyl. My Nana gave me the real experience.
Nana grew up in the golden age of vinyl. She grew up collecting records of bands from that time and sharing them with her friends. Her love of music and her records carried throughout my dad’s childhood to today.
A couple of years ago, when she visited our new house, she gave Dad her record collection for us to listen to at home. Throughout her visit, she would put a vinyl on while we went about our day and tell us about songs as they would come on.
One afternoon, she put one on the record player, and she showed me how to dance different jigs and moves. We danced in the living room, listening to the lively tune the record player gave us.
Thinking back, I don’t even remember what album or artist was playing. I just remember sharing a special moment with Nana that could never be replicated: us dancing and laughing in the living room.
She didn’t bring her records to show off her “coolness” or status, but to share memories with us.
I think that vinyl has lost this personal connection we can have with people. Vinyl has changed from connecting over a musical plastic disc to a status symbol for building an aesthetic.
Vinyl’s rebirth has lost some of its nostalgia, and only time will tell if it returns.
I am hopeful it will.
For now, I will dance in the living room, with the familiar crackle of the needle on vinyl.
Be the first to comment