On the perversion of collecting records
The record is a sweet circle, container of tones and delivery mechanism of sweet catharsis. Whether dulcet or harsh, slow or fast, soft or loud, this physical object is filled with ethereal emotions. In an age of untouchable music, the record is here to deliver the magic of sound emanating from the clash of needle on vinyl and tickle our primitive brains with its fruits.
On this particular publication, I have written a few times about the love I have for physical media and the advantages the medium has over its digital counterpart. For one, it doesn’t just go away whenever a tech company decides it does, and two – and more importantly: the conjuring ritual is important, the process of coaxing sound out of an inanimate object.
Enough about that. Read the old shit.
As ever, there’s a dark side. For the shortest amount of time – or the longest that I could possibly bear it – I engaged on social media with the collector tribe, the ones spending hundreds or even thousands of dollars on limited edition first- or mispresses, misprints or whatever else will make a record limited and, thus, vaunted.
What makes a record sought-after, is always the superficial: the limited colours, the misprints, whatever it is that makes that particular version of the record rare, and thus an object that you can possess – and no one else.
But a record is never longed for because of the music, is it? It’s not because the music on this "limited" disc is so much better than on the non-limited versions. It’s not because there’s more of it, or it sounds better. And before anyone digitally sidles up to me to argue that some limited editions have some demo versions of certain songs on them, let me get this out of the way: no one gives a shit. I'm not buying a record to listen to the four-track demos of the songs that are also on the same album, recorded perfectly good stereo sound.
Indeed, what makes a limited edition vaunted, is precisely that our lizard brains can’t handle someone else having something that they can’t – or the opposite: that they can have something that someone else cannot possess. It’s a pathetic bit of human nature, and yet here we are – it being a common mechanism in the world of record labels. This, of course, dovetails into Terror Management Theory nicely. Connecting with a rare object with cultural significance will make you stand out in your own little tribe, bestowing upon the possessor the sheen of immortality.
Be aware that I know a lot of this is just some harmless fun. It is fun to be rewarded for supporting a band when their new record just comes out – it means a lot to them. And, as stated, it is a good mechanism to get folks in on that first round of printing. you know, the round that pays for a lot of the investment in putting out a record in the first place.
So I get it.
And as long as there’s a physical version of the record available, this is all just a little side issue that no one is really that bothered with. But where it does become an issue, is when a popular record only drops from time to time in limited quantities with no 'always-in-press' option, thus making it excessively expensive in between these drops, because literally every version is limited in some kind. Ask me how much I had to pay to get any physical copy of Jane Doe. It wasn’t retail price, I can assure you.
(Seriously, how crazy is it that it’s impossible to get a copy of this record that’s not $100?)
It’s a problem that’s hard to solve, because shit costs money. Making and putting out records isn’t cheap, so it’s understandable that smaller labels don’t have the resources to keep every record in stock at all times.
(But seriously, can’t do it for Jane Doe? Weird.)
And thus, we all suffer.
(Still buying records, however.)
I still have zines for sale. One is a compilation of older posts that I refreshed a bit for the zine, simply called Terror Management. The other is a photo zine about photographing punk musicians called How To Photograph Punk Musicians In 5 Easy Steps. They're both available at terrormanagement.bigcartel.com.
