Saturday, July 2, 2011

bubble #12

There is a thing that always aroused my curiosity: the handwritings cut onto the surface of the vinyls. Some are dates, some are names, some are symbols, some are apparently meaningless letter or number sequences, but the thing that makes them special is that they are unique. In the seriality of the printing they make each record precious as one of a kind. I always looked for them on a brand new one, wondering about the writer, the moment, the before and the after. In whom hands it had got? Where on earth? This writing in particular comes from my 7" copy of Ultravox - The Voice. Who is Piero? Where is he now? What did he do on November 6, 1981? Was he in a good mood that day? How old was he? What was the weather like? These are the questions that I have always done about my records and, of course, have never been answered.
But that's the magic of the vinyls: they are human. Nothing sounds like a vinyl sounds. It's wide, it's warm, it hugs you and you can catch any single detail as it was a starry sky, because it's physically there on that surface you can touch with your toes. One of my games is, since forever, playing many times a song, breaking it down in my mind and following each time a different instrument as it was a solo. Vinyl plays with me by letting me catch any single sound, cd and audio files don't, not even the most high-tech in the world. Try it yourself and you will see.

Ultravox - The Voice (1981)

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