Vinyl Journey
“Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” ― C.S. Lewis
Are you an introvert or an extrovert?
For a big chunk of my life, this question was redundant. My behaviour spoke for itself.
Ten years worth of acting and drama courses, followed by singing lessons, and constantly stalking tourists on the street just so I could practise foreign languages meant that, quite frankly, being the centre of attention was not a choice. It was a way of life.
Outspoken. Outgoing. Out.
Always.
At uni, in Buenos Aires, I suppose I fell right into the definition of what you would call very popular.
In my defence, it was my entire group of friends that was popular, not just me. Still to this day, though, my friends give me snarky looks when I try to blame the popularity on the whole group.
There are rumours my name was still being mentioned in the school corridors years after I’d left the country. Urban myth of sorts.
The point is I’ve always known how to shine in the limelight.
My extroversion continued for several years after I’d moved to London. My husband and I used to go raving every single weekend. I can’t share half of what we got up to, but it was fun. No regrets.
A few years later, something kind of switched.
It was gradual, like the end of summer, or an uptempo banger slowly fading into silence.
We embraced a calmer, healthier and more fulfilling lifestyle.
For old times’ sake, we still let our hair down a few times a year. Yet, the 80/20 balance between madness and calm has definitely shifted.
No regrets either way.
I know what you are thinking. Age surely plays a role, but there’s something else.
Can one be 80% extrovert and 20% introvert on a rotational basis?
This is the thing: I can be both. I’ll own the room and, with the same ease, vanish into thin air.
Throughout a life of fluctuations between exuberance and withdrawal, and notwithstanding my ability to seamlessly switch from one façade to the other, my records have always been my anchor.
The one thing in my life which has remained constant.
Even during my wildest years, I would often just put some music on, sit down, and isolate myself from the world.
Filling suitcases with records, carrying them across the Atlantic, persuading customs officers they’re not for sale.
They are like my children. They are my children. How could I leave them behind?
A lot of things have changed during the course of my life. Some were conscious choices. Others unfolded before my eyes like the surface noise on the inner grooves waking you up from an hour-long trance.
And yet, this need to shut myself from the rest of the world from time to time and simply be with my records has survived all of my reincarnations.
It’s the one thing I’ve got which both predates and transcends everything else.
The journey from the raunchiest of dancefloors to a quiet Sunday morning is never straightforward.
It’s intricate, like the grooves of a vinyl record spinning in the background, seamlessly turning night into day.
Thanks for reading/listening. Happy spinning!
Nice think-piece, Andy, and like everyone here, it got me to thinking! Here goes! I've been in'n'out, I'd say! All through elementary school (1960-1966, which was a small parochial Lutheran school attached to a church), I was happy-go-lucky, outgoing, and played accordion instead of Little League (which my brother played). Mom was the most popular in our 5th and 6th grade rotating "parent-joins-us-for-lunch" Fridays (as the class would listen to Paul Harvey on the radio....."Good DAY")!
When I hit my large junior high ('67-'69), I completely withdrew....yes, having a lot to do with the huge, new public school surroundings, but also as puberty saw fit to make me fat and sprout acne! Thankfully, Mom took me to a dermatologist, but the weekly poking and UV box sessions made me feel like a full-on geek'n'freak! Naturally, the ladies avoided this new 7th grade "Elephant Man" ("I am NOT an animal.....I'm a junior higher!"), and, why did Seth Brown suddenly seem interesting...and, what on earth would make him nod in my general direction (did he just say, "hi"?) when we passed in the hallway, when I was invisible to everyone else?
You know the story from here, Andy....I'd get home, and surround myself with my real friends in my bedroom...my very vinyl vuddies! Finally, the reason Dad was in radio, and had been bringing home promos since I was 10 in '65 (hello, Beatles)! These cardboard enshrouded friends would never let me down (nor did they....ever). That's how "this" all started...Listening...and reading: the liner notes and the magazines.
It got better in high school....it pretty much HAD to! Became Music Editor of our daily mimeographed "Three Penny Press," and was lead singer/flutist for Brimstone (a story I've told, FR&B...you read it last summer as an exclusive to paid subbies), and felt no more at home than I did on stage! I think I felt that all that "prep" of listening to and learning about my heroes made me feel like the stage and performing was finally the home I was looking for! Later, that same feeling carried me through my late-'80s as a youth minister, and from '08-2012, teaching math and science to 4th and 5th graders: I commanded (not demanded) their attention, simply by exuding self-confidence, hard-earned.
Here's one for you, Andy: Picture it: Bellaire High School/Houston, 1972...Brimstone is actually playing for its students for an assembly, I guess. I had acquired a black cape, a top hat, a silver lame shirt (I had lost quite a bit of weight, and my long, blond hair was well down my back! Goodbye junior high!), and knee-high black leather boots (with stacked heels!), and wore all that, this day (with white face make-up and mascara...yeah, kinda doing my Alice Cooper thing)!
We killed, 'cause we'd have it no other way. As soon as I got offstage, I wiped off my make-up, changed back to my corduroys and flannel shirt school clothes, and within 10 minutes, I was sitting in the crowd (somebody else was doing something onstage), with nobody seemingly recognizing me! I loved that feeling of "Y'know that guy who was just up there singing and playing the flute like he owned the room? He's sitting right next to you!"
Now, that's rock'n'roll!
I'd say I'm 90% introvert. I had a few years when it was 75% (college), but for the most part I thrive either alone or with one or two other people. I struggle with big concerts and even clubs on many a night because it drains me quickly, especially if there's a lot of waiting around for a performer to start.
Regarding records, I think I mentioned this to you before, but I see my collection as a photo album. I would never sell my photos or consider throwing them away. I look at my records and can recall how and when and where I acquired it, I know where it might skip, i know if it's a mint vinyl in a poor sleeve or cover. I can't remember most of my neighbors' names but I recall the stories behind my records.