Vinyl records get their groove back
Record Store Day celebrates format’s return
Four-year-old Neko Proudlove sings along to a Vampire Weekend as it spins on her dad’s Vestax PDX-A1 turntable. More than 250 alphabetized vinyl albums take up a whole corner of her stylish home.
She may be a modern child, but she’s grown up thinking music comes from records, not an iPod.
“We like that she can associate music with a physical thing,” says her father, Brad, 30. “It’s not just on the crazy phones,” adds her mother Colleen, 29.
A music format many thought had gone the way of the dodo is proving to be a phoenix instead, rising from the ashes as listeners latch on to something physical.
New vinyl sales accounted for only 2.3 per cent of physical sales in the United States in 2012, says a Neilsen Company and Billboard Music Industry Report.
But CD sales were down 13 per cent and vinyl sales were up 19 per cent in 2012. In fact, the growth in vinyl was bigger than the growth in digital music sales, which went up 14 per cent.
Numerous bands nowadays offer a vinyl version of their albums, particularly indie bands. Many bands make up for the lack of portability of a record by including a free digital download code.
Justin Timberlake and Pink have hopped on the bandwagon. The Fisher Price record player from the 1970s has been reissued.
The movement is from the ground up, with 67 per cent of vinyl sales happening at independent music stores. The official celebration takes place Saturday around the world with Record Store Day.
Artists make special releases to coincide with the event, which started in 2007. At various stores there are prizes and live music.
Beaumont Film and Record in Saskatoon is celebrating its first Record Store Day. Owner Scott Gowen, who used to celebrate as a fan, says it’s exciting to experience it from the other side.
“I think a lot of people don’t have any idea that there are still record stores, so something like this encourages people to come check it out,” he says.
He doesn’t mind spending $25 or more for a new record.
“It’s nice, it’s big, it’s like a work of art. So many of the albums on CD you didn’t actually know that the cover had so much detail.”
The Proud loves have happened upon some sweet finds. They own a Sigur Ros album worth around $200, 10 times what they paid for it. They have no plans to sell; it contains the song Colleen walked down the aisle to.
Plus, their collection isn’t so much about the collecting, but the music. “I don’t buy records to collect them, I buy records to listen to them,” Colleen says.
But a large part of the vinyl market is aimed at collectors. Special-edition pressings make artists stand out. You can get vinyl in wild patterns and every colour of the rainbow. Gowen knows people who play a record once, record the audio, and never play it again.
While it’s younger people behind the rebirth of the record, others never stopped listening to them.
Stacked on the shelves of Bill Robertson’s downstairs office are 2,500 albums: The Beatles, Bob Dylan, the Doors, you name it. The shelves are bolted to the wall so his wife doesn’t find him dead under a pile of records, though that might be a poetic way for an audiophile to die.
“As long as the Allman Brothers hit me first,” laughs Robertson, 58. “I want Live at the Filmore East to cut across right here,” he says, with a gesture across his body.
Robertson also has his vinyl alphabetized. It takes him just 20 seconds to retrieve a copy of the Rolling Stones’ Their Satanic Majesties Request.
“This is totally sexy,” he said, holding it up. The cover art is vibrant and busy, complete with a holographic sticker featuring the band. It opens to a pink, mazelike graphic reading “It’s Here.”
His love affair with vinyl started in 1965 when he got his first record player as a birthday present in Grade 5. It came with a 45 rpm single of Chad Allan and the Expressions. He used his birthday money to buy his first LP, the Beach Boys’ Summer Days (And Summer Nights). Robertson and his friends traded LPs like baseball cards.
Though other formats have come and gone — including eight-tracks and cassettes — nothing came close to vinyl in Robertson’s mind.
“People tell me I should get into downloading. I don’t, because I think it sucks.”