Christmas redux
For Christmas, my wife bought me a turntable. It's black, sleek and simple; four buttons on the front and two of them I'm never supposed to touch. I admit it: I'm old school on the topic of stereo equipment.
I haven't had a turntable that works in 15 years, maybe longer. That means that the five crates of albums dating back to the '60s were ignored, and, frankly, neglected for years. They've been in attics and basements and general storage places as we've carted them around from home to home. Sad. I've replaced some with CDs, but not many. I just assumed they had been warped beyond decent playability. (The scratches pretty much date back to abuse during college and post-college parties.)
Anyway, I hooked it up to the computer today. Pulled out an album. Actually, I pulled out three -- their covers were stuck together -- Two of Bonnie Raitt's and the one that is playing right now: John Prine. It is playing cleanly without the pops and cracks that I expected. I had written on the back cover: "Christmas 1972." It's like I got the present again, 35 years later.