On the Record

As you may remember, a couple of weeks ago I taught Precocious Daughter how to play records.

One o' those mother-daughter bonding moments.

We were using our crappy all-in-one record player/CD player/radio/speakers/crap thing. I told her it was fine to listen to my old well-played discs, but if she wanted to buy her own new vinyl, we'd need a decent turntable.

So she ordered one from Amazon, and it arrived today.

I love getting packages in the mail,
don't you?

I took my Pioneer amplifier and my JBL speakers out of mothballs and donated them to PDaughter's new sound system. I taught her how to hook up the speakers; she was baffled by speaker wire. I helped her attach the drive belt on the turntable (yeah, it's belt drive rather than direct drive - something to aspire to). I showed her how to adjust the equalization, i.e., MORE BASS.

Then came the moment of truth. At the same time PDaughter ordered the turntable, she ordered a Strokes album, because she is obsessed with the Strokes.

Damn, album covers look better when they're 12x12".

She oh-so-carefully set the album on the turntable and pressed "start" to engage the tone arm.

And then...

God damn, but a vinyl record through a good amp and a quality pair of speakers sounds AWESOME.

I'm so jealous.

It's like some Freaky Friday kind of deal.

Tell me again why I let her set up the stereo in her bedroom instead of the family room, where I could use it, too?

You know what? It doesn't matter. My love of old-school vinyl has passed to the next generation.

That's...quite literally...groovy.