I did, I do and I’ve started buying them again, Ann. There’s something special about reading every detail on an album cover, about the careful way of placing the album on the turntable. I have surround sound speakers from the 1980s, they look ugly but sound wonderful. Most recent purchases: Aja, Steely Dan; and Blue Train, John Coltrane.
Beautiful memories. Thanks for sharing! My husband and myself fine ourselves in vintage shops when travelling around Australia and buy one or two each time. Playing a record on the turntable is really not the same as listening to the same song from Spotify on a Bluetooth speaker.
I think acquiring them is part of the pleasure. Seeing them, reading the back cover, deciding it is for you, taking them home - small but significant pleasures.
Ann, this post truly pulled at my heartstrings. I felt every ounce of the nostalgia, the joy, the sadness, and the deep reverence for music woven through your words. Music has such a unique way of anchoring us to moments in time, doesn’t it? Not just the big moments, but the quiet ones, the lonely ones, the ones filled with laughter or heartbreak.
I’ve always marked my life not with years, but with songs and albums—each one holding a memory, a feeling, a chapter of my story. Like you, I grew up surrounded by music. My grandparents and parents played records constantly, and even now, I’ll find myself singing along to songs I never actively studied, never owned, and yet somehow know every lyric to. It’s as if those melodies imprinted themselves into my earliest memories, like whispers from a time before I could even walk.
Music has always been my therapy, my spiritual uplift, the background melody to my life. Even when I meditate, music hums faintly in the background—it’s a sound so familiar, so comforting, that its absence feels like something is missing.
Your description of letting those records go hit me deeply because I still have my grandparents’ records, and every time I pull one out, it feels like holding a piece of them in my hands. There’s so much attachment there, so much nostalgia, and yet also a sense of duty—to share them, to honor them, and to make sure my children understand their value.
And they DO get it. They don’t reject the crackles of an old record or dismiss the music of another time. They listen with curiosity and admiration, and I love them for that. Because, as you said, music back then wasn’t polished by technology or auto-tune. It was raw, pure, and breathtakingly human—just an artist, their instrument, and their voice filling an empty studio with something magical.
Your words reminded me of why music matters so much—not just as sound, but as memory, as connection, as a bridge between generations.
Thank you for sharing this piece with us. It’s one I’ll carry with me for a long time and perhaps be the inspiration of a piece I’ll write in the near future. It’s really nice to meet you and read your publication.
Thanks for such a thoughtful reply. My grandson (15) who often spends the night with us is currently picking out something on the piano. He seems to be able to take music from computer games (he doesn't play games a lot, but he IS a 15 year old boy) and play it on the piano with no score. He is the only family member with perfect pitch and a love of music to the point that he chooses to practice, rather than needing to be nagged. When he was brought home newborn from the hospital, his mother put music (often early music) on a cassette while he went to sleep and I always wondered what effect that had on him. Certainly didn't do him any harm, but there is no scientific experiment to show what he would have been like in its absence. Perhaps you know more than I do.
Very evocative, Ann. The live stream of it all 👏🏾 I would have struggled to let go of a stash like that. Old enough to appreciate how influential the record could be to the listening experience, particularly the gatefold format with extended liner notes, artwork and photography. When done right – and I'm looking at some of the 70's jazz and soul records I have here – each was like a portal to another dimension, spinning round and round. It feels like you are having a private audience with the artists. And I still do crave that intimacy.
No, I hear that. Downsizing, decluttering n'all that. The good thing about (most) records is that they will be desirable to someone else if they're in VGC. Just waiting to be discovered and cared for by a new generation or fan base. You only have to look at the popularity of an online marketplace like Discogs.
OMG! I love this! Your post brought so many music memories back to me. My very first album was Dusty Springfield's "I only want to be with you." And now I have a substack post in my head about music. Thanks! And happy new year!
Although I was writing about my own memories, I was hoping I would do exactly that for my readers. It 's always good to hear that you achieved your aims! Happy New Year to you, too.
We lived on a farm a long way from the nearest school at the end of the school bus run so the bus driver stayed overnight in a little shack down the road. He sometimes brought his wind-up gramophone to our place in the evening and I remember a record about a little red monkey. I must have been four or five years old at the time, 1953 or 54, and the words have stuck with me all this time. I was enchanted by it. I looked up the words recently for a memoir I was writing and only now realise the underlying sadness of the song. Thanks for the memories, Ann.
As I just wrote to someone else just now, reviving memories of music – whether the same as mine or completely different – was part of my aim in writing this, so it is wonderful to learn that I achieved it. I have some memories of records I listened to as a young child before I got my own record player, but it was those records that were in my own room that are most remembered (because most played). Good luck with your memoir.
Did you have a flabbergasted grandmother? Tom Lehrer holds up pretty well. It's funny to think that young people all over the world grew older with so many of the same memories!
Ha ha. I remember that album cover so well. I don’t think my grandmothers knew who he was. One would have cackled, though. The other was a Lawrence Welk fan. Every Saturday night. Good night. Sleep tight and pleasant dreams to you.
We moved a similar distance but in the opposite direction. I was born in Washington, DC, lived in NYC from the age of 9 and have lived in the UK for nearly 60 years.
You left out the 8 track tapes then the much smaller tapes that came before cds. Also, back to records, my late husband said he had a Plymouth that had a record player in it. Don’t know what size records it played though. All my records departed too when we moved years ago. Have since downloaded many to U Tunes now.
I don't know what 8 track tapes are, but we used to have the occasional 78, plus some 45s. There were even some 45s in the boxes, but I forgot to mention them. Many too many to mention. I can't imagine a record player in a car, but if you say so, it must have been.
Thanks. Interesting. Somehow passed me by. I was particularly busy in those years, with a full time job, a teenager and a very demanding toddler/small child.
My heart fluttered at the sight of that Baez album, an early favorite of mine. My parents became thoroughly sick of it. Our challenge will be getting rid of all the CDs, which we haven't played for a while in the age of higher tech.
Success! Getting a heart fluttering was part of the point, whether through the photo (taken by my older grandson, with my advice) or the writing. CDs are the next stage, but perhaps not immediately and, in any case, we still listen to them.
I had records and I had a baby’s bathtub of records that belonged to my parents. I remember getting rid of them all - $20 a box and presumably the same for the bathtub. My parents had died a few years before but the room where the bathtub had been was filled with a wonderful scent that evening. Records are so full of memories. I’m absolutely certain they came to visit after the records went. An hour later the room was scent-free once again.
I'm sure there are many stories about records owned and records lost and records missed. Hugs back to you (my clumsy fingers wrote 'bugs' and I had to correct it) and a wonderful 2025 for you.
I too have certain LPs that bring back memories of friends and incidents in my life. But the earliest record was played for my when I was 6, on a wind up phonograph. It was the Ink Spots. And the reason it stays as fresh now, as when I first heard the record played, is that it also reminds me of my parents and baby brother, living in the first home I remember. It is a very warm and happy time in my early life.
I did, I do and I’ve started buying them again, Ann. There’s something special about reading every detail on an album cover, about the careful way of placing the album on the turntable. I have surround sound speakers from the 1980s, they look ugly but sound wonderful. Most recent purchases: Aja, Steely Dan; and Blue Train, John Coltrane.
fabulous.
Beautiful memories. Thanks for sharing! My husband and myself fine ourselves in vintage shops when travelling around Australia and buy one or two each time. Playing a record on the turntable is really not the same as listening to the same song from Spotify on a Bluetooth speaker.
I think acquiring them is part of the pleasure. Seeing them, reading the back cover, deciding it is for you, taking them home - small but significant pleasures.
Lovely !
Ann, this post truly pulled at my heartstrings. I felt every ounce of the nostalgia, the joy, the sadness, and the deep reverence for music woven through your words. Music has such a unique way of anchoring us to moments in time, doesn’t it? Not just the big moments, but the quiet ones, the lonely ones, the ones filled with laughter or heartbreak.
I’ve always marked my life not with years, but with songs and albums—each one holding a memory, a feeling, a chapter of my story. Like you, I grew up surrounded by music. My grandparents and parents played records constantly, and even now, I’ll find myself singing along to songs I never actively studied, never owned, and yet somehow know every lyric to. It’s as if those melodies imprinted themselves into my earliest memories, like whispers from a time before I could even walk.
Music has always been my therapy, my spiritual uplift, the background melody to my life. Even when I meditate, music hums faintly in the background—it’s a sound so familiar, so comforting, that its absence feels like something is missing.
Your description of letting those records go hit me deeply because I still have my grandparents’ records, and every time I pull one out, it feels like holding a piece of them in my hands. There’s so much attachment there, so much nostalgia, and yet also a sense of duty—to share them, to honor them, and to make sure my children understand their value.
And they DO get it. They don’t reject the crackles of an old record or dismiss the music of another time. They listen with curiosity and admiration, and I love them for that. Because, as you said, music back then wasn’t polished by technology or auto-tune. It was raw, pure, and breathtakingly human—just an artist, their instrument, and their voice filling an empty studio with something magical.
Your words reminded me of why music matters so much—not just as sound, but as memory, as connection, as a bridge between generations.
Thank you for sharing this piece with us. It’s one I’ll carry with me for a long time and perhaps be the inspiration of a piece I’ll write in the near future. It’s really nice to meet you and read your publication.
Thanks for such a thoughtful reply. My grandson (15) who often spends the night with us is currently picking out something on the piano. He seems to be able to take music from computer games (he doesn't play games a lot, but he IS a 15 year old boy) and play it on the piano with no score. He is the only family member with perfect pitch and a love of music to the point that he chooses to practice, rather than needing to be nagged. When he was brought home newborn from the hospital, his mother put music (often early music) on a cassette while he went to sleep and I always wondered what effect that had on him. Certainly didn't do him any harm, but there is no scientific experiment to show what he would have been like in its absence. Perhaps you know more than I do.
Very evocative, Ann. The live stream of it all 👏🏾 I would have struggled to let go of a stash like that. Old enough to appreciate how influential the record could be to the listening experience, particularly the gatefold format with extended liner notes, artwork and photography. When done right – and I'm looking at some of the 70's jazz and soul records I have here – each was like a portal to another dimension, spinning round and round. It feels like you are having a private audience with the artists. And I still do crave that intimacy.
Thanks for the info. I never heard of that but passed it on to my son-in-law who is selling them for me.
Nicely said. It WAS hard to let go by at 84 and 82, we need to get rid of stuff ! Our kids didn’t want them. What else were we to do?
No, I hear that. Downsizing, decluttering n'all that. The good thing about (most) records is that they will be desirable to someone else if they're in VGC. Just waiting to be discovered and cared for by a new generation or fan base. You only have to look at the popularity of an online marketplace like Discogs.
OMG! I love this! Your post brought so many music memories back to me. My very first album was Dusty Springfield's "I only want to be with you." And now I have a substack post in my head about music. Thanks! And happy new year!
Although I was writing about my own memories, I was hoping I would do exactly that for my readers. It 's always good to hear that you achieved your aims! Happy New Year to you, too.
We lived on a farm a long way from the nearest school at the end of the school bus run so the bus driver stayed overnight in a little shack down the road. He sometimes brought his wind-up gramophone to our place in the evening and I remember a record about a little red monkey. I must have been four or five years old at the time, 1953 or 54, and the words have stuck with me all this time. I was enchanted by it. I looked up the words recently for a memoir I was writing and only now realise the underlying sadness of the song. Thanks for the memories, Ann.
As I just wrote to someone else just now, reviving memories of music – whether the same as mine or completely different – was part of my aim in writing this, so it is wonderful to learn that I achieved it. I have some memories of records I listened to as a young child before I got my own record player, but it was those records that were in my own room that are most remembered (because most played). Good luck with your memoir.
I was singing that line from Tom Lehrer before you got to it. I recognize every title you mentioned. Lovely. Thank you.
Did you have a flabbergasted grandmother? Tom Lehrer holds up pretty well. It's funny to think that young people all over the world grew older with so many of the same memories!
Ha ha. I remember that album cover so well. I don’t think my grandmothers knew who he was. One would have cackled, though. The other was a Lawrence Welk fan. Every Saturday night. Good night. Sleep tight and pleasant dreams to you.
Yup, I am indeed off to bed. Are you in England? If so, the same to you.
No. Los Angeles, though I was raised in New England.
We moved a similar distance but in the opposite direction. I was born in Washington, DC, lived in NYC from the age of 9 and have lived in the UK for nearly 60 years.
You left out the 8 track tapes then the much smaller tapes that came before cds. Also, back to records, my late husband said he had a Plymouth that had a record player in it. Don’t know what size records it played though. All my records departed too when we moved years ago. Have since downloaded many to U Tunes now.
I don't know what 8 track tapes are, but we used to have the occasional 78, plus some 45s. There were even some 45s in the boxes, but I forgot to mention them. Many too many to mention. I can't imagine a record player in a car, but if you say so, it must have been.
Also, https://youtu.be/UMKZc_W-xto?si=EdJiaYDCMmw_WT8B
Go to Wiki or Chrome and type in 8 track tapes. They existed.
Thanks. Interesting. Somehow passed me by. I was particularly busy in those years, with a full time job, a teenager and a very demanding toddler/small child.
My heart fluttered at the sight of that Baez album, an early favorite of mine. My parents became thoroughly sick of it. Our challenge will be getting rid of all the CDs, which we haven't played for a while in the age of higher tech.
Success! Getting a heart fluttering was part of the point, whether through the photo (taken by my older grandson, with my advice) or the writing. CDs are the next stage, but perhaps not immediately and, in any case, we still listen to them.
I had records and I had a baby’s bathtub of records that belonged to my parents. I remember getting rid of them all - $20 a box and presumably the same for the bathtub. My parents had died a few years before but the room where the bathtub had been was filled with a wonderful scent that evening. Records are so full of memories. I’m absolutely certain they came to visit after the records went. An hour later the room was scent-free once again.
Hugs my dear. All the best for the year ahead.
I'm sure there are many stories about records owned and records lost and records missed. Hugs back to you (my clumsy fingers wrote 'bugs' and I had to correct it) and a wonderful 2025 for you.
I too have certain LPs that bring back memories of friends and incidents in my life. But the earliest record was played for my when I was 6, on a wind up phonograph. It was the Ink Spots. And the reason it stays as fresh now, as when I first heard the record played, is that it also reminds me of my parents and baby brother, living in the first home I remember. It is a very warm and happy time in my early life.