The albums are gone.

[valis2]

I remember sitting next to the speakers in the living room, their dusty fabric covers faded from the sun. I remember kneeling on the wood floor with my ear next to them. I remember the exhilaration of "Bring the Boys Back Home" and I remember lying on the floor crying and listening to "Comfortably Numb." I remember playing "Grover Sings the Blues" over and over again. I remember what the Revolver album looked like. I remember wearing out "Yellow Submarine." I remember the sound of the needle hitting the record. I remember dancing and jumping around so much that the penny fell off the arm and I had to balance it again. I remember the velvet sweep of the record cleaner. I remember listening to the Bankin-Rass "Hobbit" album and knowing every word of the dialogue. I remember "Silver Bells" and grocery store Christmas albums. I remember the unmistakable sound and feel of pulling an album out of its cover, finely grooved and gleaming, and how it was a secret treasure in a paper sleeve. I remember lying on the floor, reading the liner notes. I remember my dad dancing with my mom in the living room. I remember the first time I heard "Nebraska," it loped into our house like a rangy wolf. I remember singing "A Chorus Line" from beginning to end with my sister. I remember listening to "Brer Rabbit." I remember the insanity of opening "The Wall" for the first time and seeing the inner drawings. I remember listening at night to "Pimpf" with only candles lit. I remember singing "There's Wolves in the Kitchen" and dancing about so enthusiastically that the record skipped.

The guy who picked them all up is a collector, and very, very nice. They will be treasured and catalogued.

I feel sad and happy all at once.

Comments

[cafemercury.livejournal.com]

This brought back vivid memories of my 14-year-old self sprawled out on my bed, on a thick-as-pea-soup southern afternoon, scrutinizing the pictures inside The Wall as the album blared in the background.

I also remember (gently) taking a sponge to the inner sleeve of Led Zeppelin's In Through the Out Door because doing so would cause the color to pop out. (Still have that one; the watercolor effect is cool.) I remember my half-Scottish friend playing air bagpipes as we listened to "Carouselambra." Really, you haven't lived until you've seen someone play air bagpipes.

CDs sound better, but it occurs to me that, perhaps, a lot of charm was lost in the name of progress.

While I work on this manuscript that is threatening to eat my brain, I shall listen to The Wall in your honor.

Outstanding post. *hugs*

[valis2.livejournal.com]

The Wall was such a big part of my adolescence. Huge! I had an enormous Pink Floyd obsession, and this album just cemented it. Certainly I loved Atom Heart Mother, but the Wall had songs on it that seemed to understand what I was feeling, and the music was so amazing.

I never got into Led Zeppelin, but boy, I would have loved to have seen air bagpipes! ha!

*hugs back*