Andy Glass
would like to contribute this as it expresses a love for vinyl much better than he (or most of us) could:
Poem from Oz Hardwick:
VINYL JUNKIE
It begins like this: a ritual opening,
thumbnail-slit cellophane, chemical tang
inhaled deep, a fuzzy static buzz
bristling arm hairs, teasing the pulse
to pump a little faster. Always
like the first time: mouth dry
at the soft unsleeving, naked lines
dizzying to catch the track of expectation.
The needle bites:
a soft, sharp caress that stops
time to muted white noise, dull
tom-tom heartbeats, the ice-crack
of not-quite-silence scratching awake
the kundalini serpent that swallows
180 grams, black and pure, straight
to the synapse.
Here it comes.