Ed­i­tor’s let­ter

EDP Norfolk - - INSIDE - DO­MINIC CAS­TLE, Ed­i­tor, EDP Nor­folk Mag­a­zine 01603 772758/07725 201153, do­minic.cas­[email protected]

What goes around, comes around, doesn’t it? In some cases, quite lit­er­ally around and around and around...

I’m talk­ing about vinyl LPs and sin­gles, record play­ers, turnta­bles and gramo­phones. They are en­joy­ing a bit of a re­nais­sance, a small ana­logue rip­ple fight­ing back against the dig­i­tal tsunami.

And, ever with an eye on the zeit­geist and al­ways bang on trend, we have bought our­selves a new turntable so we can rein­tro­duce the crackle, pop and hiss to mu­sic chez nous.

It started af­ter we went to sup­per with some friends. “Bring your records,” they said. “We’ve got a record player.”

Now we knew that we had a few old vinyls buried some­where, so we fos­sicked around for a while and un­earthed them. We ac­tu­ally found we had around 100, many bought from lo­cal shops like Andy’s Records in Nor­wich.

We sat down and started go­ing through them, the musty waft from the yel­low­ing pa­per sleeves fill­ing the room. Lawks, what a mash-up of mu­si­cal magic and long-for­got­ten bilge we have.

Top of the shame pops for me is prob­a­bly the 12-inch sin­gle ver­sion of the 1983 song 99 Red Bal­loons by Nena, in the orig­i­nal Ger­man. That’s 99 Luft­bal­lons and not one fath­omable rea­son why I might have bought it.

There are oth­ers – Toto springs to mind – which suggest that I must have been wrestling with a mu­si­cal taste de­mon and lost. But there are some 80s won­ders as well; Imag­i­na­tion, any­one? Hu­man League? Of course. And two copies of ABC’s Lex­i­con of Love, be­cause every­one has two copies. Mrs C ini­tially claimed the mu­si­cal high ground with some Steve Har­ley and early Roxy Mu­sic be­fore slip­ping a lit­tle with Golden Ear­ring, Split Enz and some dis­mal disco cover com­pi­la­tions.

So we picked a cou­ple of LPs and went to our friends to be cap­ti­vated again by hear­ing lon­glost sounds linked to younger, sim­pler days. Now we have our own player, our Christ­mas present to our­selves, and we have des­ig­nated Fri­day nights as mu­sic nights, evenings when the TV re­mote is undis­turbed and we take turns choos­ing which sounds we’d like to re­visit. Hap­pily most of the vinyl is in good nick, and the tech­nol­ogy of the mod­ern turntable means that the warmth and rich­ness miss­ing from mod­ern sound sys­tems is re­stored.

The odd pop, skip and jump is to be ex­pected, as is the pe­cu­liar plea­sure of pluck­ing the fluff from the nee­dle af­ter play­ing some of our dustier spec­i­mens.

And it has been a de­light. The mu­sic has re­vived old me­mories – many in­volv­ing the Sam­son & Her­cules, Tu­dor Hall, Yar­mouth’s Rosie O’Grady’s or West Run­ton Pavil­ion – and it usu­ally brings a smile. Good grooves!

A record col­lec­tion. No, not ours

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