Of Love, Devotion and Broken Records and HERE IS: TO LIFE!

drawing by marguerita

The vinyl format has always been popular between hi-fi enthusiasts and music passionates.

For these people the vinyl record was always considered to be the true release and the general opinion was that the format has a richer and more interesting sound.

Despite of this the vinyl was loved by the few.

However, over the last couple of years the vinyl record has increased its popularity enormously, which has manifested itself in a tremendous sales growth. This has partly given the struggling independent record stores a new chance and even huge retailers have started to sell vinyl records.

The question is how could a format that was virtually dead suddenly become so enormously popular again, especially with young crowd, who was not even born at the prime of the format. This article will take a brief look at the history of the vinyl record in order to understand what factors made this possible.

Vinyl was the first commercial physical music format and for a long time it therefore dominated the market for physical music. Several different types of vinyl records were developed, but in general, when people wanted to buy music to play at home there was no other choice than to buy it on vinyl. However, at some point the compact disc (CD) came around and that quickly put an end to the vinyl format for most people. The CD was smaller, cheaper to produce and some would argue that it had better sound quality. Also, people could easily bring the CD with them to play it in the car, while working out or on their Discman. At some point it also became possible to copy the content of a CD to another CD and a little bit later the content could also be copied to a computer and converted to mp3 files. The last part was the beginning of the end for the CD format.

As CDs could easily be ripped to mp3, people had better Internet connections and new file sharing services were developed buying music gradually became less of a necessity for the more technically savvy music lovers. It didn't take long before whatever music you would want could be downloaded for free. So when the content suddenly was available for free, why should people then buy CDs? Well, of course there's the moral question, but except from that the CD format did not provide any extra value that would convince a lot of people to pay for it. As digital music online has become even more convenient to consume and we're living in a world where streaming music is the most convenient option this has become even truer. So the case is that the CD format has become a format stuck in the middle. It lacks the flexibility of streaming and the great physical characteristics of the vinyl format. The vinyl format and streaming are perfectly negatively correlated, and as a consequence of that perfectly compatible. While streaming offers superior convenience on one hand, vinyl offers the ultimate physical experience on the other hand by being a piece of art in itself.

So what exactly are these neat characteristics of the vinyl format? Well, one thing to start with is the cover art. The vinyl has much more space for cover art than a CD and is different from what can be thought of as cover art online. This makes it easier to enjoy the work that is put into create something unique. Another characteristic related to this is that people by nature are collectors. Everyone likes to collect something. Since digital music has no scarcity it just doesn't make much sense to collect it. Vinyl on the other hand is perfect for collecting. Music lovers like to show their dedication and support to a band by buying the record and it fits nicely on the shelf just as books do.

Another, and often debated characteristic, is the sound quality. Many vinyl lovers claim that it is the cracks, pops and hisses that create the special vinyl sound and make vinyl unique. It is for sure true that this is an important part of the vinyl experience, however, whether or not this is important depends on two factors. First, a person naturally needs to have a preference for this type of sound and second; the record must be mastered specifically for vinyl, which means analog mastering.

A final factor which contributes to the attractiveness of the vinyl format is the listening experience. Listening to music on vinyl is a ritual in its own. Picking the right vinyl, putting the needle on the record, getting up to flip the record before picking up a new one. This physical listening experience stands in stark contrast to the digital one and too a higher extent require that people take time to actually listen to a record and listening to it in its entirety. In that regard listening to music on vinyl therefore often can be experienced as a break from the daily stress and routines.

The future indeed looks bright.http://ezinearticles.com/?Why-Has-Vinyl-Records-Become-So-Popular-Again?&id=1960898

To Be or Not To Be: When you Get Lemons,You Make a Lemonade

drawing by marguerita

To be or not to be – that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And, by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep⎯
No more – and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to – ‘tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep⎯
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’ oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th’ unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveler returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.—Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remembered.^[1]

interpretration by philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer:

There is something in us, however, which tells us that this is not so, that this is not the end of things, , for love is the ultimate end and will forever be remembered in our hearts. For he will be mine and remain mine for eternity.^[2

Les Fleurs du Mal -To the Reader

drawing / collage by marguerita

apropos: missing a loved one and connecting with the one

affected

La sottise, l'erreur, le péché, la lésine, Occupent nos esprits et travaillent nos corps, Et nous alimentons nos aimables remords, Comme les mendiants nourrissent leur vermine. Nos péchés sont têtus, nos repentirs sont lâches; Nous nous faisons payer grassement nos aveux, Et nous rentrons gaiement dans le chemin bourbeux, Croyant par de vils pleurs laver toutes nos taches. Sur l'oreiller du mal c'est Satan Trismégiste Qui berce longuement notre esprit enchanté, Et le riche métal de notre volonté Est tout vaporisé par ce savant chimiste. C'est le Diable qui tient les fils qui nous remuent! Aux objets répugnants nous trouvons des appas; Chaque jour vers l'Enfer nous descendons d'un pas, sans horreur, à travers des ténèbres qui puent. Ainsi qu'un débauché pauvre qui baise et mange Le sein martyrisé d'une antique catin, Nous volons au passage un plaisir clandestin Que nous pressons bien fort comme une vieille orange. Serré, fourmillant, comme un million d'helminthes, Dans nos cerveaux ribote un peuple de Démons, Et, quand nous respirons, la Mort dans nos poumons Descend, fleuve invisible, avec de sourdes plaintes. Si le viol, le poison, le poignard, l'incendie, N'ont pas encor brondé de leurs plaisants dessins Le canevas banal de nos piteux destins, C'est que notre âme, hélas! n'est pas assez hardie. Mais parmi les chacals, les panthères, les lices, Les singes, les scorpions, les vautours, les serpents, Les monstres glapissants, hurlants, grognants, rampants, Dans la ménagerie infâme de nos vices, Il en est un plus laid, plus méchant, plus immonde! Quoiqu'il ne pousse ni grands gestes ni grands cris, Il ferait volontiers de la terre un débris Et dans un bâillement avalerait le monde; C'est l'Ennui!—l'oeil chargé d'un pleur involontaire, Il rêve d'échafauds en fumant son houka. Tu le connais, lecteur, ce monstre délicat, —Hypocrite lecteur,—mon semblable,—mon frère! Folly, depravity, greed, mortal sin Invade our souls and rack our flesh; we feed Our gentle guilt, gracious regrets, that breed Like vermin glutting on foul beggars' skin. Our sins are stubborn; our repentance, faint. We take a handsome price for our confession, Happy once more to wallow in transgression, Thinking vile tears will cleanse us of all taint. On evil's cushion poised, His Majesty, Satan Thrice-Great, lulls our charmed soul, until He turns to vapor what was once our will: Rich ore, transmuted by his alchemy. He holds the strings that move us, limb by limb! We yield, enthralled, to things repugnant, base; Each day, towards Hell, with slow, unhurried pace, We sink, uncowed, through shadows, stinking, grim. Like some lewd rake with his old worn-out whore, Nibbling her suffering teats, we seize our sly delight, that, like an orange—withered, dry— We squeeze and press for juice that is no more. Our brains teem with a race of Fiends, who frolic thick as a million gut-worms; with each breath, Our lungs drink deep, suck down a stream of Death— Dim-lit—to low-moaned whimpers melancholic. If poison, fire, blade, rape do not succeed In sewing on that dull embroidery Of our pathetic lives their artistry, It's that our soul, alas, shrinks from the deed. And yet, among the beasts and creatures all— Panther, snake, scorpion, jackal, ape, hound, hawk— Monsters that crawl, and shriek, and grunt, and squawk, In our vice-filled menagerie's caterwaul, One worse is there, fit to heap scorn upon— More ugly, rank! Though noiseless, calm and still, yet would he turn the earth to scraps and swill, swallow it whole in one great, gaping yawn: Ennui! That monster frail!—With eye wherein A chance tear gleams, he dreams of gibbets, while Smoking his hookah, with a dainty smile. . . —You know him, reader,—hypocrite,—my twin! Translated by Norman R. Shapiro with engravings by David Schorr Published by the University of Chicago Press Copyright notice Copyright notice: Excerpted from Selected Poems from Les Fleurs du mal by Charles Baudelaire, translated by Norman R. Shapiro, published by the University of Chicago Press. © 1998 by the University of Chicago. All rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of U.S. copyright law, and it may be archived and redistributed in electronic form, provided that this entire notice, including copyright information, is carried and provided that the University of Chicago Press is notified and no fee is charged for access. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the consent of both the author and the University of Chicago Press.