Achtung! The Turntable as Sibling

 

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This ELAC Benjamin Miracord turntable used to be my Dad’s. It’s ancient, it’s German. And the memories it brought back were really bizarre. Dad had the thing until the 90s. It was the record player I had to learn to play my Beatle I bought at age 8 on, and I had to be supervised. Well, actually, I had my old and busted turntable he rebuilt for me, came from Sears. You know the kind. The lessons on how to treat and handle turntables and records were taught on the important one. But I didn’t have the fabulous speakers he did. So I used to sneak out and play them occasionally when they were out.

My brother had a massive collection of 60s through late 70s rock. Yeah, there were three turntables in the house. He wanted to teach me about music history. But there were rules about that collection. He had some really rare stuff. There was the lecture about why you had doubles. One was the super clean, no scratches one for recording your mix tapes with. One was the everyday playing one you fought to keep dust off. Then there were the rare collectables. I wasn’t allowed to touch the collection. He would set up the record and let me listen. Then eventually he realized I would be too tempted and set up a section of ones I was allowed to handle and play, under supervision. This is also the time before brother left, when tensions were getting bad, that father son time of the late teens. We won’t go into the rest. I think brother thought he might get the BM some day. But Dad never let go of anything.

Cut to the mid 90s. I had hooked up with a boyfriend and started a long partnership that is still going on. We lived in San Francisco and hung out with the extreme misfit crowd of aging punk rockers and goth fiends, the whole piercing and Nomad culture of the American Left Coast was in full swing. It was time to do the traditional, yeah, meet the boyfriend ritual. The heavily tattooed, LA Punk and Flesh Hook Suspension aficionado, body piercing studio owner, Vaughn. You know how that went over. A few years later when Dad realized that this man was in my life and no it wasn’t a phase, he did a really bizarre thing. He offered the sacred Benjamin Miracord turntable to him. We were both kinda shocked. I think it was some way of him surrendering, realizing that I was with this person and he took care of me.

We have lived with the turntable ever since. Sadly last year it died, or so Vaughn said. Hell, it’s a 1965 model. A short time after that, Vaughn decided to start selling off his massive vinyl collection. It was as really weird thing. I tried to talk to him about it. You see, as most of you know, a collection you have had since age 10 or so, is like your child. I have lost two of my collections due to financial hardship and not having places to live where I could really keep one, and a cavalcade of roommates and friends where mysteriously records started disappearing. When I got together with my partner, I figured we liked a lot of the same music and he’d play vinyl if I asked him to. Then of course YouTube arrived and it was: watch music videos, then play the complete album. But suddenly, a mid-life decision happened, and the turntable wasn’t working. So, I assumed it was just the end of it’s vinyl collection life.

In the last few weeks I have walked by the place where the collection lived. I have had some really bad medical news, heart surgery is imminent. I’m really a healthy person, I fit in the jeans size I wore in High School. But it’s been a year of bizarre setbacks. I started really listening to music again, like I did when I was a young shy teen. I have been using my iPhone mainly for playback. But it’s not vinyl. The music was my friend, along with books like the Hobbit and other classic SciFi, and going to rock shows. And record albums were like great, playable furniture. So, as we do in this Mid-Life, we revisit the music. Digital makes it easier to find things these days, convenient. But it’s not tangible like a book. Many records open with lyrics and sometimes fun features Because, really a record album is a book of song, and messages that the musicians share with you. I wondered why the collection really went away. I kept having the conversation with Vaughn.

In the last two weeks, I decided it was time to get playing records again. I asked my partner why he had sold everything. It’s a conversation I should have had last year, but he seemed really raw about it and I just guess I waited. Then all the looming health issue things came up. My declaration recently was, “I want to live through this and have life.” Part of life is music. We talked a bit about it, and I found out he had not sold all of it off, a large chunk, but not all of it. We talked more about it. I decided I wanted a turntable back. And will start going through the box that has been stashed in the garage somewhere.

Helpful insight and encouragement came from Twitterverse. Scottish Post-Punk @ScotsPostPunk suggested a Technica. I started researching. Vaughn looked a bit too. Then he came back and said he thinks he fixed the old ELAC. I told him I still wanted a Technica because I can digitize from there if I want. We are beginning the resurrection. I need the distraction. Have to have that heart surgery. Need something to help get me through it. I have my eye on the Technica AT-LP120BK-USB.

Lesson learned: Never give up on the music, even if you are not a musician. Just because you don’t play doesn’t mean it’s not part of you, part of your light and being. It will always be there as a child. And appreciate when others share and reach out their joy with it. Happy vinyl hunting.

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