About four years ago I bought my first mp3
player. I couldn’t quite stretch to an iPod, so I opted for a Creative Zen,
which I still own and happily use.
It was extraordinary being able to collect
2-3,000 tracks and carry them all with me at all times, on the bus, in the car,
on holiday. I could make my playlists, skip, mix, listen at random, select an
album or a specific artist. I plugged it into the stereo, set it on shuffle and
let it run for a couple of hours without the need of changing disks.
I really have a lot of fun with my Zen.
Last month a musician friend of mine sent
me a copy of his band’s brand new EP. It was a special moment unwrapping it
from the cellophane, extracting the vinyl (in a funky yellow colour), placing it
on my turntable and listening to it in all his beautiful, crackling glory.
While I was at it, I decided to give a spin
to some of the records in my collection and was transported back to times gone
when I would run home with my latest purchase from the small independent record
shop round the corner, impatient to see, hear and feel the multi-sensory music
experience that was an LP.
As much as I love technology and the
convenience of downloads and mp3s, there will always be a special place in my
heart for the good old vinyl.
I love the way it looks and sounds, the
dedication that goes into playing a record – dust it, place it on the record
player, lower the needle on the right spot, get to the end of one side, turn it
around, start again.
If mp3s are music on the go, vinyl is for taking your time and savouring the work and
thought that has gone into it. It’s the fine dining of music versus the fast
food chain that it’s a download, with all the attention to details – the cover
art, the inner sleeve, the printed lyrics – served with the main dish.
Nothing beats vinyl.
Three months ago I finally got my birthday
present, which had been on my list for some time: a Kindle Touch.
I was won over immediately. Again, the
practicality of being able to carry all the books I love and/or want to read at
once was a major positive, as well as the solution it offered to one of the
biggest problem facing passionate readers: storage and space, or rather, lack
of.
To that add the convenience of being able
to acquire a book any time and from anywhere, and the Kindle really comes into
its own.
And you have all the handy features that
allow you to highlight and bookmark passages, look up a word, change the font
size, write your own notes, copy a playlist of music to listen to while you
read, without moving from your chair.
What a fabulous gadget!
But yesterday I was holding my book in my hands. Not a digital book
on Kindle, but an actual, real paperback. It had a shiny, colourful cover, a
front and a back. It had pages I could turn and on them were printed the words
that had taken nearly half a year for me to write. It had a smell and a feel
and occupied physical space.
Specifically, it was placed on a shelf side
by side with some of my favourite books and authors: Helen Fielding, Lisa
Jewell, David Nicholls… Michela O’Brien!
It was simply a little miracle.
I will still download mp3s and ebooks, I
will still love my Zen and my Kindle and how they have made my life simple.
But I will still buy beautiful records and
books, always cherish my favourites and how they have made my life colourful.
Yours Truly proudly holding her book!