Daily Rituals
"Vinyl is representational: it has a face. Two faces, in fact, to represent the dualism of human nature" ― Adam Mansbach
As some of you know, I spin at least one vinyl record a day.
It’s a choice I make, like going to the gym 6 times a week or spending more money on records than on clothes.
When I was a kid, my mood for the whole day was informed by one simple metric: whether I had woken up early enough to listen to a record before going to school.
As a teenager, I was already burning the candle at both ends, and I had a lot of trouble waking up.
My family discovered the best way to wake me up was to play Emotions by Mariah Carey at full volume. If those high notes can open garage doors, they can certainly wake an unruly teenager.
I would magically get out of bed feeling refreshed and, importantly, without swearing. Win-win all around.
I still had to rush for my 7:30 AM start, but I always found the time to smoke a Lucky Strike at the school entrance.
My classroom was at the very back of the building, so I would surreptitiously sneak in at about 7:35 or 7:40. The schoolmaster once caught me and threatened me with a half-day absence, to which I replied:
In that case, I’ll go back home and come back at 11:30. Half-day is half-day, isn’t it?
He looked at me with fury, but he didn’t record my absence, and he never bothered me again.
I was a handful, I know.
In many ways, my life is a lot calmer now. I also live 7,000 miles away from where I grew up.
And yet, this need to spin a record before I start my day has remained unchanged. It has persisted with the unwavering commitment of a soldier on duty.
Since I’m the complete opposite of a morning person, spinning a vinyl record before going to work is my one small daily triumph in claiming a little bit of my life back.
It’s symbolic, I know, and this is why it’s so powerful.
When I discuss my vinyl routine with others, the focus is always on the main ritual. Taking the record out of its jacket. Placing it on the turntable. Getting lost in an ocean of music and sound.
But there are other, perhaps smaller, rituals that go with it, which are just as important.
I go to bed thinking about the record I’m going to spin in the morning. Just to reassure Stephan, my husband: this is why I’m still on my phone after we turn off the lights. I’m reading articles and essays and everything I can digest about the record in question.
This might not be the raunchiest detail you’ll hear about me, but it’s the truth.
Some mornings, time is very tight. My solution? I shave, shower and dress while spinning my record.
And the ritual is not lost: it’s transformed.
As the foam washes over my face, I’m swimming in my ocean of music and sound. My shirt, suit and cuff links dance towards me, guided by the grooves.
On my way to the tube (what many of you would call subway), highlights of the record are still spinning in my head.
Seize the day. Life is good.
And when I get to the station, before heading to the office, I smoke a Lucky Strike. Or two.
For the nostalgia, if nothing else.
Funny how a life lived through records has a tendency to stick around, no matter how much the world around us might have changed.
No matter how many continents and oceans we may have crossed.
Like a ritual. Or the two sides of a vinyl record: tenacious and adaptable. Forever resilient.
Thanks for reading/listening. Happy spinning!
Love the teenaged pic of you! In school, I smoked Marlboros, but that story sure was relatable. Tbh, I miss smoking. Sounds silly, I know, but still...
I get up too early to play music in the house, so my routine is the opposite; I try and listen to something everyday *after* work.
Great article, relatable or not, something authentic shared always hits the spot.
Just as a heads up… many many people I know in their sixties start behaving as they did when they were 16 or so. And it doesn’t seem like a regression. Nope. It’s more like enough with the filters, say what you think, mean what you say, and do things that make you excited to wake up each morning… whilst you still can…
At 16 for me, it was Marlboro Lights (if I could find them), and I’m with Kevin, crazy, but I miss a good smoke…