About

This is Life in Quarantime.

We’re a wife and husband duo living in Brooklyn with our daughter, our sweet dog (pictured here) and our large record collection. We decided quarantine was the perfect time to listen to our entire record collection alphabetically, to revisit classics and explore newer additions.

The Back Story

Sometime in 2001, the husband side of the duo procured a cheap belt driven turntable, and stole his dad’s disused receiver complete with a set of Bose tabletop speakers, absconding to his dorm room two states away. Finding himself on the precipice of what became the vanguard of a resurgence in vinyl sales, he began buying what he could afford. Initially, he focused on a college student in Boston could budget for in 2001-03: generally clean and absurdly cheap classic rock. Mid-period Zeppelin, Yes’s prog classics, the better part of the Talking Heads output, all procured in between classes from In Your Ear in Harvard and Cheapo in Central. And any number of now indie classics, bought new, at Newbury Comics.

The wife side of the duo, also from NY, also in college in Boston, had not yet been introduced to vinyl as a lifestyle, but similarly spent her formative years obsessively collecting music–initially as a record store clerk (at Sam Goody–this is not High Fidelity), then as music director at her college radio station, then as a record label intern, all followed by 5 years of music PR (now safely ensconced in a different industry). Our taste may differ, but we were coming from the same musical frimanent.

After college, safely back in NY and with both sides having met, record buying trips shifted to Other Music (RIP), Bleecker Street Records, and the late, great Mondo Kim’s (seriously RIP–that was hands down the best record store in the City). Later, the buying shifted as the economy changed (and chased music retail out of downtown). Trips to Williamsburg required a trip to the Academy Annex (now in Greenpoint, of course) and Soundfix (again, RIP).

And then there are the records fairs! WMFU–which ironically used to be held at the same place the husband side of the duo took the LSAT, but now is held in Williamsburg. The Flea’s semi-annual record fair (initially mostly labels but last trip led to an extremely delightful jazz find, wait till we hit the H’s). The Phoenix-like Other Music Record Fair at MOMA PS1. Indeed, that one is special, it was the child’s first record fair, spent snoozing in a carrier while dad did some crate digging.

Of course there is the online experience. The efforts to avoid buying on discogs is as much a part of the retirement plan as our 401K’s. But Turntable Lab and Insound (again, RIP) are and were mainstays for record procurement. Indeed, the current turntable set up is courtesy of Turntable Lab. In some ways this blog would be nothing without them.

Beyond that, the records come from all corners–yard sales, random antique store, the trash (wait for a particularly good one in the K’s), and in a few instances folks unloading unloved records gratis. We do not have a quantity of records that would blow another vinyl type over, but 19 years in (13 of those together) has led to an at least eclectic collection of vinyl slabs.

The point of writing this site is not to provide “music criticism” per se, but to point to the larger experience of vinyl. This is large format recorded music, it has a visual component (the opportunity for larger cover art and inserts, an entire square foot!), a physical component (when the kick drum kicks, the needle physically moves, spotify can’t do that), along with the purely audio.

The compact disc has fidelity, the mp3 has convenience, cassette tapes have 80’s nostalgia, and streaming platforms have…wouldn’t know, the husband side ain’t interested, and we both seek to continue supporting artists and labels. But vinyl is something physical that requires energy to even buy in the first place. Buying used? You have to inspect for scratches. New? Colored vinyl, limited edition, pre-order, or maybe just go cheap and take the plain black. Beyond that it requires attention, you do not just hit play, you lower the needle, you flip the side, you carefully put disc one back in its sleeve as you put on disc two of Wheels of Fire.

So much of the music we consider classic was made by individuals who could conceive of no greater accomplishment than creating the ideal 45 minutes of music. A 45 minutes that would yield two equally brilliant 20 odd minute sides that worked in conjunction with each other to create a whole greater than the sum of its parts–but when done really well still worked so well, some records you just want to hear side two. A full square foot to make the record’s first introduction plastered across the cover. And something of real heft to physically hold. The older ones even had a smell, not quite mildew (hopefully) but still the musk that comes only from old paper, dust, and a touch of plastic.

Both sides of this duo recall the indelibility of the memories that form from first coming across a record. One may recall the first time they might hear a particularly memorable record, but you would not necessarily be reminded of where you were and when, you first brought it into your life and your home. Vinyl records demand our attention and that, perhaps, ensure we listen just a little closer to the record and the space around it.

If we accomplish a little of what we hope to, this site will share some good records and the sense of memory that they invoke.

Join us on the journey!