There’s an album that, for me, serves as an express ticket back to the earliest years of my seventies outerborough childhood; to the first-floor apartment of a two-family house on a numbered street in Glendale, Queens; to a rust-colored carpet given to us second-hand by my paternal grandparents, its raspy synthetic fibers and faint off-gassing odor still so familiar to my fiftysomething senses; to a Sony stereo with a brushed nickel control panel, neon-green display light and a set of humming walnut bookshelf speakers that mesmerized and comforted little me in the midst of so many big, burgeoning feelings.
I’m a decade older than you, and I was entirely happy to ( and actually allowed to ) release the very same disc from its covers and put it onto my father’s beloved stereo system. Gently moving down the lever that controlled the arm of the record player into the outside groove without bumping it down and crashing the entry point on the vinyl.
I feel like every beat and word is woven into my being from that LP. I saw the lyrics and out of nowhere I was singing that song, and I haven’t heard the album for quite some time now. Utterly evocative piece of writing, thank you.
Really enjoyed this though the ending was heartbreaking. It brought back memories of listening to music with my hippie parents on the brown console stereo. We talk occasionally but there is enough tension I can appreciate your ending.
I’m a decade older than you, and I was entirely happy to ( and actually allowed to ) release the very same disc from its covers and put it onto my father’s beloved stereo system. Gently moving down the lever that controlled the arm of the record player into the outside groove without bumping it down and crashing the entry point on the vinyl.
I feel like every beat and word is woven into my being from that LP. I saw the lyrics and out of nowhere I was singing that song, and I haven’t heard the album for quite some time now. Utterly evocative piece of writing, thank you.
Really enjoyed this though the ending was heartbreaking. It brought back memories of listening to music with my hippie parents on the brown console stereo. We talk occasionally but there is enough tension I can appreciate your ending.
Thank you, James! That music — and that stereo equipment! — conjures up so many memories. With our parents, it is what it is. 💙
Gorgeous gorgeous writing Kathleen. I was there with you for a moment.
Thank you, Kate!
Ohhhhh those details take me right there, and then to the heart--beautiful writing KMH
Beautiful.
Damn, McKitty. You do it to me every time. Gorgeous.
Beautiful and heartbreaking ...