As a kid, when I really started to get into music it was largely through my parents’ record collection. For hours I’d pour over the album art. I’d sit, listening, entranced watching the middle of the disc spin round and round. Sometimes I’d try reading the track listing as it turned 33 times a minute.
Lately I’ve been listening to a lot of the records that I managed to pilfer from my folks’ house last time I visited. However, I yearn to have that experience with current music. I want a collection of records that represents the best of my time. All the really solid albums from right now. Maybe someday, if I ever have kids, they can sit and bop their heads to Voodoo, trip out on the album art of Friend and Foe, steal my copy of Le Fil the first time they do mushrooms, or geek out on the harmonies on Bitte Orca. But, in the meantime, I want to do all of that, from the inconvenience of my own home.
To this end, for the price of two drinks, I’ve decided to treat my self to a new record once a week. This week’s record was The XX. It looks so good when it spins.