Growing Up With Vinyl
Crissi Cochrane
From the time that she was able to grasp objects, we’ve let our daughter play with all kinds of household items. Among her most beloved non-toy-toys are physical music media - copies of our CDs, blank tapes, and vinyl records. Before she could walk, she would roll over to our rack of records and lay beside them, flipping through the jackets.
When I was a kid, I wasn’t really aware of vinyl records. I think the first time I ever held one was when we were throwing old 10 inch records into the lake at our cottage like frisbees. I’m not sure why my grandfather sanctioned this, but we had a dresser crammed full of them, and they had to go. They were thick and fragile, like dinner plates.
As a teenager, I bought up vinyl at random - some to play, and some to tack onto the walls of my bedroom - and would spend hours listening to the B-side of Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side Of The Moon”.
When I moved to Halifax at 18, I pared down my belongings to the absolute minimum. At that point, I stopped owning all physical music media - I left behind all my mixtapes, my CD collection, and my vintage vinyls. In my early adult life, I moved at least once every year - every time the lease was up in whatever apartment I was renting - and I traveled light in life.
It wasn’t until I was living in Windsor, and suffering through a scorching hot summer in my mid twenties, that I started buying vinyl again. Mike found his old turntable in his mother’s basement, and it became an inexpensive hobby, perfect for us when we had lots of time on our hands, but little money to do anything. We’d bike downtown on rusty second-hand bikes, spend $15 on a couple tall cans and a used vinyl, and bike home to listen to it. This was how I began my music history education, and shifted away from folk music into the jazzy, soulful realm of the records I was falling in love with. This came into my life at the right time - folk/pop music was becoming very commercial, appearing in every kind of advertisement, and I was becoming disenchanted with my music.
Now, we have a shelving unit in the basement that is filled with vinyl. No matter how poor we are, we can almost always justify buying a used record when it costs the same as a cup of coffee, fills our home with beautiful sounds, and inspires us to make more art. And I love that my daughter is growing up around the turntable, watching me flip her favourite Raffi records and gently setting the needle into the grooves.
But I don’t have a CD collection, and I’m loath to start one, having a minimalist approach to how we fill our home. I guess I feel like I don’t need both a CD collection and a vinyl collection.
I connect with vinyl records the way I used to connect with CDs as a youth - buying it on faith without hearing it first, reverently setting it into the player, sitting down to listen while reading through the liner notes, and following along with the lyrics, devoting my full attention to listening.
I’ve always made CDs, even in these years when I don’t want to own any. I didn’t realize how badly I wanted to make vinyl until last September, when I was playing a show with a band that blew me away. I wanted to take home their music - but they only had CDs.
So, five days ago, I launched a pre-order crowd-funding campaign for vinyl copies of my upcoming album, Heirloom. The company in charge, Qrates, handles the two big hurdles in vinyl manufacturing: the steep upfront cost, and the hassle of shipping. As long as I reach my target of selling 100 records by March 8, the vinyls get made and shipped out directly to the customers. It’s pretty special - I technically don’t even need to put bar codes on them, since they aren’t destined for any stores at all, they’re just going directly to listeners.
I have faith that soon I’ll be holding my own vinyl in my hands. At long last, to exist in the format that made me fall so deeply in love with the music that is closest to my heart. Unfortunately, they still won’t be available on merch tables - the nature of this pre-order means that every copy goes directly to a customer. So, if you want one, you’ll have to order one before March 8 - this is your only chance to hear me on vinyl!
I’ve made it super affordable - only $21 USD plus shipping is almost unheard of for a 12” vinyl record - and it comes with a digital download code, too, so you can enjoy the music both ways. I give my sincerest thanks to everyone who pre-orders, and I hope the experience of hearing the album on vinyl brings you joy, well into the future.
