Culture Blues

Confessions of a Collector

People used to shop here

As I’m sitting here writing this article, I’m surrounded on all sides by practically the only thing I own that has value to it—my CD collection. Everybody collects something, I figure; whether it’s old pennies, McFarlane toys, shot glasses, Lord of the Rings novelty bedpans or whatever else. For me, it’s CDs. Yes, that’s music put into compact disc format. It may come as a surprise to some people, but bands and labels still produce and sell these in most major markets.

I’m a bit of a junkie, having spent an ungodly number of hours over the last decade-plus rifling through rows of jewel cases in used bookstores, thrift shops, and even rummage sales, hunting for out-of-print gems amidst the endless, discarded copies of La Bouche and Blues Traveler albums. I usually have to shop by myself, since I can never leave a place until I’ve grazed my finger in anticipatory fashion over the spine of every disc on the premises.

I started my collection a little over a decade ago, when I began work at a used music store in northern Wisconsin. This was before burning and copying music was fashionable or affordable for the masses. There were so many new bands and albums I was discovering, with all items available to me at cost, that my take-home pile just kept growing. I didn’t need all of it, really, but it was fun. Like a continuous scavenger hunt. Plus, my new-found hobby allowed me to transform into one of those condescending music store clerks—the ones everybody loves—who crap on the taste of all others and get to say cool things like “Oh…you still don’t have that Yo La Tengo?”

Outside of my collection, my organizational skills are crap. Just ask my girlfriend. The checkbook is never balanced, the inboxes of my email accounts are maxed out, and I have to smell pairs of socks to see if I’ve already worn them. But if you’re looking for my re-mastered copy of Reign in Blood, without hesitation I can tell you the exact shelf on which its located, approximately how far in, and which albums  surround it (top of the second rack, about a dozen discs from the left, wedged between Starkweather – Croatoan and Smashing Pumpkins – Mellon Collie). I’m proud that I can do this, then immediately disturbed and embarrassed by it.

Proof that CD collecting is un-hip

As a collector, specifically of CD’s, I have to admit I’m a little bitter about my place in the world. In the music community, CD aficionados are stuck in a purgatory of sorts; we haven’t been damned to the depths of the inferno like 8-track and cassette collectors, yet we know we can never hope to ascend to the ultra-hip status held by the vinyl hoarders. Sure they’re still making CD’s, but who the hell is buying them aside from geeks like me? It constantly amazes me that CD outlets are still in business, especially when stealing music online has become so damn easy (and fun!). And compact discs just don’t have that romantic, vintage allure that’s associated with vinyl. Nobody will tell you they’re intoxicated by the smell of old plastic lids like some are by musty cardboard sleeves. There’s not a lot of history to CD’s, either—no hidden boxes of 60’s R&B 7-inches we can uncover. In fact, the most “ancient” thing a collector could possibly unearth—the first music CD ever pressed—would be a copy of Billy Joel’s 52^nd Street. What a depressing holy grail.

Having a large music collection used to be more of a point of pride, though. At this point, if someone tells you they have a pretty big stash and you ask them how big, you’re likely to get your answer in gigabytes. I’m not really one to go “old man” on everyone’s ass and say things like “back in my day we went to midnight release parties and we didn’t have your fancy album leaks and your horseless carriages,” but there’s no effort required anymore; nothing tangible involved in the hobby. Maybe that’s what drives those of us who still insist on cruising around with a car full of cracked jewel cases, all containing mismatched discs. We need that sense of ownership. I’m not a real crusader for artists’ rights, either. No, my compulsive need to purchase music is much more self-serving than that. I just want it. The actual thing. The liner notes and all. For me. For my beautiful collection, so I can arrange everything and step back, staring at my CD towers and saying “look at this great thing that I, man, have built.”

Still, as much as I love my ever-growing pile of plastic (I’m probably at about 700-800 titles at this point), I’ll confess something to you that most CD buffs will not: I wish I collected vinyl instead. There it is. It pains me to say it, but it’s true. If you ask anyone who collects CD’s, “why discs?” they are likely to stumble over a lot of weak reasons like “they look nice in my bookshelf,” or “they’re easy to take in the car with me” or “I don’t have a turntable.” The only reason, beyond liking music, that people collect CD’s is that they started and then they just couldn’t stop. It’s not that they love the format. I personally realized when I’d accumulated about 200 discs that there was no going back. I was going to stick to my guns.

How any self-respecting pretentious douche gets their aural fix.

I always feel like there’s something tacky about collecting CD’s versus vinyl. Like showing up to a jazz jam with a plastic recorder. Vinyl is always coming out in freakishly-limited quantities and in spiffy colors like purple-marble-swirl and horse-dookie-green. They sound warm and fuzzy through your speakers. And the album covers are so much more monstrous and cool-looking that you feel like you’re actually holding a piece of art. Case in point: I own a hard-to-find gold edition of Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here on CD. Impossibly, I found a custom CD and jewel case frame at Target and bought it so I could showcase my pride and joy. It’s a nice frame, but when I put it on the wall in my living room, it just looked microscopic and weird. Guests would stop by and squint at it, move in closer and say “What the hell is that?” as if I had framed a limited edition donut. Shortly thereafter, I won a vinyl copy of Floyd’s Animals on Ebay. I decided to buy a record frame, and I put it on the wall in place of the CD, and admittedly, it looked glorious. I don’t want to give any of those condescending vinyl collectors any more fuel, but it is what it is.

I feel like I’m getting too negative. I really do love my collection, for the record (no horrific pun intended). Sifting through it, I can see how my music taste has evolved over the years (why the hell do I own a copy of the Night at the Roxbury soundtrack?), and I can align specific albums with great, or not so great, experiences I’ve had, and with people I’ve met and/or wildly fled from. So in a way, it’s interactive and maybe a little historical. And cheers to anyone else who shares in my obsession. I feel like we’re a bit of a dying breed—one that I hope doesn’t fizzle out completely—so stick with it. BUT, if you should ever feel the need to unload your collection out of monetary, spousal, or spatial necessity, please email me a complete list of available titles…preferably arranged in alphabetical order and then by label and release date.