The Power of Vinyl
My frustration with new releases reinforces an important lesson: the limitations of vinyl are also its biggest strengths
In the classroom where I took my first English lessons as a kid, there was a huge banner on the wall that read:
Something good, if short, twice as good.
To the delight of my teachers, I was born with a tendency to question unfair, inconsistent or unfounded statements.
Equally so, I’ve always been particularly good at using an opponent’s logic in my favour.
When I was told my 200-word essay failed to meet the minimum word count of 250, I quickly pointed at that huge banner and casually retorted:
If it’s shorter, it’s meant to be better, right? Twice as good, to use your own words.
I haven’t changed much, to be fair. A law-related degree and a decade working in the legal industry have only, for better or worse, exacerbated this trait.
More than 25 years have gone by since I last saw that banner, but its message has been resonating a lot with me lately.
The trigger? A deluge of new releases, each packing 20 tracks or more.
Interludes, voice notes, random sounds. Unbridled noise with no sense of purpose or direction.
To make things worse, some of these records are debut albums.
Imagine if an unknown author’s first novel were to exceed 2000 pages. Or if a filmmaker’s directorial debut ran for more than 4 hours.
I mean, who are you? When did you earn the right to make me sit through your digressions and ramblings for hours on end?
I often wonder whether it was my preference for short and consistent records that made me fall in love with vinyl, or whether it was thanks to vinyl that I learned to appreciate the LP format as the ultimate manifestation of recorded music in all its glory.
Probably both.
Needless to say, I am not talking about legends and their double-LP masterpieces (White Album, The Wall, and Songs in the Key of Life, to name a few). These artists have more than earned their right. Have I, in fact, earned my right to enjoy them? I’m not sure, but I’m grateful for the privilege.
As a soul and R&B lover, I feel the lack of correlation between length and quality in new releases in the genre is getting ridiculous.
Some folks didn’t get the memo: it’s 2024, for heaven’s sake, not 1996. And with all due respect, if you want your debut album to be a double LP, I won’t settle for anything less than Maxwell’s Urban Hang Suite.
Am I getting old and cranky? Maybe. But hear me out: as a 90s kid, I have enjoyed my fair share of long records. The magic that Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis worked with Janet and many others is untouchable.
To say that recent soul records are consistently failing to reach these heights is a massive understatement.
The limitations of vinyl, not to mention analogue recording, give artists two precious gifts: structure and focus. Absolutely crucial, especially when they set foot in a recording studio for the first time.
Roughly twenty minutes per side. 10 tracks, give or take. No time to waste.
This is why a well-written postcard often carries more weight than a 12-page letter: brevity aids substance.
A whooping 1.8m tracks get uploaded onto Spotify every month. Quantity over quality. And in any case, nobody in their right mind can digest all this material in a meaningful way.
Less is more. In life, and so in music.
Thanks for reading/listening. Happy spinning!
For me, side three was the hurdle every double album, even the great ones, had to clear.
In short… Well written!