Today’s recommendation: a moratorium on musical revisionism.
Before going into this post, I need to get this off my chest: I am an old fashioned, album kind of guy. I suppose in that sense, I have never really fully bought into the digital age. I mean, yes, I own an iPod, and I occasionally will use the shuffle all songs feature when I’m in the car. For the most part, though, if I am listening to music – not just putting music on in the background, but actually listening to it, which is an activity that I am not convinced more than 25% of the populace actually engages in,, but that is the subject for another post – I likely know what it is that I want to listen to, and so that is what I will listen to. Perhaps I am feeling nostalgic, and I want to listen to Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks. I will not just put on “Tangled Up in Blue” or “Idiot Wind” and move on, I will listen to the entire album. It doesn’t matter that I really, really hate “Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts,” and that that song prevents this from being a perfect album (again, another post) – it is part of the album, and therefore when I listen to Blood on the Tracks, I listen to it.
The whole concept of skipping tracks on an album has always been somewhat alien to me. Perhaps it is due to my musical taste usually lying outside of the sphere of manufactured pop, where only three singles are needed to make an album, and the rest is filler. A lot of the bands that I listen to seem to have more of an album-based aesthetic rather than a singles-based aesthetic, and the albums seem designed to be enjoyed as a whole (otherwise, I would only purchase the singles). Even if I hate one or two of the songs, it is part of the artist’s original vision and who am I to second-guess that?
But second-guessing seems to be done all too often these days. I shouldn’t say “these days,” really – this has been going on at least since the ‘60s, when the UK and US versions of Beatles and Stones records carried completely different tracklistings (and, in almost every case, the original UK version was superior – even in the case of the Stones’s Aftermath, “Paint It, Black” be damned). Now, though, there just seems to be a more malicious edge to it. Then, as now, the rationale came down to money – the UK albums eschewed singles, assuming that the fans already owned the singles. Singles and albums were viewed as entirely different beasts. When the US version of the album would be issued, The singles that had been released prior to that album would be inserted into the tracklisting, at the expense of some album tracks. Under this philosophy, the single was seen as a way of selling the album, the assumption (probably not entirely incorrect, granted) being that if the American record-buying public did not have the instant gratification of a recognizable hit single, they would not purchase the album.
(N.B.: I have not researched this, so this description may be entirely composed of naïve simplifications and misunderstandings, and may in fact be entirely inaccurate. If this is the case, then I want you to please feel free to just turn your head the other way and ignore it; this is not meant to be academic writing, after all!)
This trend seems to have abated quite a bit by the time the 70s rolled around, though it still reared its head every now and then, most famously in the case of the first album by The Clash (do you want to guess how I have that one tracked in my iTunes?) After CDs had been around on the consumer market long enough to feel safe and established (probably the early to mid 1990s), we began to enter a long age of revisionist reissues that is still raging on.
One of the most egregious examples of recent revisionism is The Cure. Their debut single was called “Killing an Arab,” and was based on the novel, The Stranger, by Albert Camus. It is pretty much a narrative clone of that novel, in fact; there really seems to be no racial hatred involved in the title; the novel just happens to be set in Algeria, and the man the narrator shows is, indeed, an Arab. In any case, when the collection Staring at the Sea: The Singles was released in 1986, the band and label were pressured into placing a disclaimer sticker on the album stating that it was based on a novel and that The Cure neither endorse nor condone racial prejudice or violence. Silly, but fair enough.
The real revisionism began with the issue of The Cure’s Greatest Hits CD in November of 2001. “Killing an Arab” was conspicuously absent from this disc. Fair enough, I thought at the time; after all, it wasn’t a big radio hit, even if its status as a fan favorite would likely be enough to warrant its inclusion here. Then, in 2004, The Cure began their reissue campaign of the old albums. When they reissued their first album, Three Imaginary Boys (which had, of course, originally been issued in the US at Boys Don’t Cry with “Killing an Arab” inserted into the tracklisting and a handful of album tracks removed), the song was nowhere to be found on the second disc, in spite of its status as a contemporaneous single. The Faith reissue did include “Charlotte Sometimes,” a contemporaneous single, as a bonus track, so the argument cannot be made that the label chose not to include standalone singles. No, this looks to me like a case of the label trying to act like this song has never existed. Because both Staring at the Sea: The Singles and Boys Don’t Cry are out of print, the song, which is of no small historical importance, remains out of print.
Of course, this is a rather extreme example, and most cases of revisionism are not so political as that. Most of them involve merely tacking bonus tracks onto the end of an album. I am torn over this practice. While having bonus tracks is nice, there is something about the completeness and stasis of the album that is disrupted when one tacks track at the end. In the ‘90s, the Rykodisc Elvis Costello reissue campaign left ten seconds of silence on the disc after the album proper before the bonus tracks began, which at least gave you a subtle aural cue that the album was done. The early-aughts Rhino reissue campaign added several bonus tracks to each release and put all the bonus tracks on a second disc, leaving the album proper, well remastered, on its own, unadulterated disc. This reissue campaign, as well as Rhino’s subsequent Cure reissue campaign, seems to respect the original forms of the albums. (For the record, this particular Elvis Costello reissue campaign may be my favorite reissue campaign ever. We will see how The Beatles reissues measure up this September.)
Rhino is not above making a few mistakes, however; just look at their recent reissuing of the entire catalog by the notoriously reissue-aversive band, The Replacements. First of all, it is incomplete; certain b-side recordings and rarities are missing for no discernible reason. Second, the bonus tracks are tacked on to the end of the album; once again, no respect for the original album. Third, Rhino have seen fit to excise things such as bits of studio chatter at the beginning of some tracks; this is not a big deal to me, and I take no issue with it whatsoever, but some purists who have grown up with these albums have called Rhino out on this, and although this is not my battle, I stand firmly in solidarity with these people. But the biggest problem with this reissue campaign is the way they signaled the transition from the album to the bonus tracks. Here’s how it goes:
So here is what I am proposing: why alter an album that has already been established? As much as I enjoy getting more songs, I also want to respect and preserve the album. When bonus tracks are to be had, record labels can follow the model Rhino used with The Cure and Elvis Costello and put the bonus tracks on a second disc. Or they could issue a CD of b-sides and rarities, or a double CD, or even a box set. Either way, this tendency toward changing the albums as they were originally recorded and released seems to me tantamount to disrespect for the artists, and disregard for the art they produced.
I had some more thoughts, but they are gone, and this is already three (single-spaced) pages in word, which means I should have stopped long ago. I will be expanding this into a longer and more academic think piece on my solo blog in a couple of weeks, so hopefully those thoughts will be back by then.
Today’s recommendation is going to be a quick and self-explanatory one: clearing out clutter.
Tanya and I have had a 2-bedroom apartment for the past two years. For virtually that entire time, the small second bedroom has been a room for storage of my guitars, records, CDs, and desktop computer. As I accumulated more “stuff,” that stuff ended up accumulating in the room. Eventually it got to the point where the room was a disaster of clutter and junk through which one could not safely walk without breaking something or running the risk of tripping and seriously injuring oneself.
Lately, between my growing desire for more privacy (ever since the breakup I have more or less been spending all of my time at home out in the living room or dining room), and the fact that I have a BRAND NEW STEREO (expanded recommendation coming soon!), I have been wanting more and more to finally remedy that room. Well, today, faced with the prospect of researching Shakespeare or writing about critical theory, I finally decided to declutter.
It is a process, of course. I had a LOT of shit in here. But, I have thrown out probably about three tall kitchen garbage bags worth of crap. A lot of it was stuff that I found amusing, or sentimental, and still had some meaning to me… but I had come to terms with the fact that I no longer needed it. One can’t spend all of one’s time dwelling on a past that is out of one’s reach, to which one cannot return. That’s what the next 8 months need to be about – jettisoning that past. Getting ready for the future (ready for the world about to come).
There’s still a lot more left to go through and throw out. Boxes of stuff in the closet I need to sort through. But, the room is almost to a point where I feel comfortable sitting in it playing my records (have I mentioned how great my stereo sounds?), almost to the point where I wouldn’t feel embarrassed having friends in *to show off my stereo, of course).
Post Script: And before anyone scolds me on my comment about throwing things out… I’ve also been recycling what I can. I’ve only genuinely been trashing things I can’t recycle around here.
Today’s recommendation is perhaps a bit crass, in a way, but it is crass with good intentions and in a selfless way. Today, I recommend donating to my autism walk.
I will spare you the statistics, which you likely have already heard countless times and can look up easily anyway. The fact of the matter is, this is a disability that we really don’t understand as much as we should. It has a huge effect on those who live with it, and for the number of people diagnosed with autism, it’s truly puzzling how little funding is available for research.
I have been working with individuals diagnosed with autism and other developmental disabilities for nearly nine years. About six years ago I first became involved with N.A.A.R., which later merged with Autism Speaks. Autism Speaks is currently the nation’s largest autism awareness and advocacy organization and is the major sponsor of the autism walk.
As you can see from the page, I have set a high fundraising goal for myself, but I believe that I can do it with your help. I also wish to call to your attention my two incentive campaigns. The first campaign is a donation-matching campaign; I will submit my personal donation to match the largest single donation I receive from any individual up until the evening before the walk. It’s pretty straightforward; I’m putting my money where my mouth is. Note the qualifiers: single donation and individual. Corporate donations, including employer’s matching charitable gifts, do not apply to this campaign, and a series of small donations will not be aggregated for these purposes.
The second incentive campaign, from my point of view, is the interesting one: if you donate to my fundraiser, I will play and sing a song for you. Any song that you like. I will compile all these songs onto a CD (or, hopefully I will have enough donations to make it a double-CD or even a box set!), which will then be distributed as a gift to everyone who has donated. This is my third year running such an incentive; two years ago, I covered songs at open mic nights for donations. Some of the songs I played included “Fire in Cairo” by The Cure and “Sexyback” by Justin Timberlake. Seriously, this really happened!
Last year, I recorded two EPs of cover songs. Covers included songs by Coldplay, Okkervil River, Shearwater, *Nsync, Bob Dylan, Lou Reed, and Phil Ochs, as well as The Most Unwanted Song. I believe I still have a few copies of these EPs lying around, so if you want one of these, please let me know in the comments. Those requesting old EPs will waive their request for this year’s set, unless they make another donation.
Note that I do reserve the right to set a price on certain songs; if a song is ridiculously difficult to learn/perform or has the potential to be highly embarrassing, I may need a more substantial donation than the minimum in order to fulfill the request. Also note that multiple donations will give you multiple request credits.
So go! Donate! E-mail me your requests (I’d prefer to keep the requests a secret so people are surprised when they get their CDs, so I ask that you do not leave requests in the comments)! Help me reach my fundraising goal! Earn your good Samaritan points for the day!
Hopefully I will be back with a real recommendation tomorrow!
Hello, interpeople. I’ve been neglecting to greet you in my posts lately. I apologize to be so rude and thoughtless. I don’t want the five of you or so who read this and wait with baited breath for each day’s new recommendations to think that I take you for granted. (N.B..: I am including Miranda in that estimate of five people. Prove me wrong.)
Today, in conjunction with/in honor of Record Store Day, I am recommending supporting independent record stores.
When I first starting purchasing my own music (first two CDs I purchased: Out of Time and Automatic for the People by R.E.M., both purchased at the same time!), I never gave much though to where I was purchasing it. One place was as good as another, I thought. Of course, when I went to a local chain called Tunes, I did notice that he selection was much cooler and more varied, but at that point I did not think of choosing a location from which to purchase music in terms more complicated than convenience, proximity, and cost.
I think it was around the time that I discovered and started hanging out in my dearly departed Full Circle Records in 1998 or so that I began to think about what I got from independent record stores as opposed to the Best Buys, Circuit Cities, Sam Goodies, Tower Records, et cetera. The fact that the owners took the time to talk to me and get to know my tastes and recommend things that I might like, and that I could strike up a conversation with random customers, sparked something in a part of me that had never quite been touched in that way. Before I knew how to articulate it as such, Full Circle had become a source of community for me. That was what I loved about it – it was so much more than a record store. It was a place to hang out with friends, to make new friends… and, of course, to discover some really, really great music.
Like all great things in life, it had to come to an end eventually. I worked there for a while, and I loved getting my pay from Mike just to turn right around and hand almost ll of it right back to him. It was at Full Circle that I first started purchasing vinyl, that I ordered most of the Mountain Goats and Red House Painters and Elliott Smith and Elvis Costello catalogues, that I would have debates with Scott or George (well, a debate with George usually just involved vehement repetitions of contradictory positions with no reasoning involved). I shot some video of my friend Bob's band, The Young Professionals, at Full Circle. I played my very first “show” at Full circle, probably also setting the record for the longest show Full Circle has ever hosted. I played the last show that Full Circle would host before closing its doors. Anyone who was paying attention would have seen me shedding some tears during my truly horrendous butchering of Dylan’s “I Shall Be Released” at the end of the show. Somehow, I knew that Full Circle closing marked the end of a lot more than just Full Circle.
After Full Circle closed, I started going to Mars Red records in Haddonfield. The owner, Scott, was a great guy. Unfortunately, it was not more than a year and a half after I discovered Mars Red that it, too, closed its doors forever. I will spare my analysis of what has happened to create such a state of affairs; that is not the point of this entry, and would probably be better suited to my solo blog, if I ever get that one off the ground. But, all finger-pointing aside, I am now in the unenviable position of not having a good independent record store to call my own. I really don’t like Tunes very much; it is rather impersonal and geared increasingly toward the mainstream, and its chain status, regardless of the fact that it is strictly local, is a turn-off for me. AKA Music and Repo Records in Philadelphia are just inconvenient to get to, and have a bit of a slick, glossy feel to me. Princeton Record Exchange is kind of far and is sort of oppressively overwhelming, intimidating, and impersonal. Vintage Vinyl is even further and kind of has the same feel. Bloomington is fortunate to have a great independent store in Landlocked Music and a truly mind-blowingly awesome shop in T.D.’s CDs and LPs, but I won’t be moving to Bloomington until January.
These places are true sources of community for music lovers, and they have been and are drying up at an alarming rate. It is up to us music lovers to take a stand and save them. I’m not going to engage in hyperbolic and George W. Bush-esque rhetoric about the big box stores being the enemy and supporting them being tantamount to treason, but, well, I suppose I have already put the suggestion there, haven’t I? I know that the economy is in shambles and that expendable income is hard to come by these days, so I’m not taking the hard line here and demanding that everyone drop everything and immediately spend $200 at a local independent. However, I am imploring everyone, when they want to purchase a new record, please consider not going to Amazon or iTunes or Best Buy or wherever you would normally shop for such an item. Instead, visit an independent record store. Go to your usual haunt. If you don’t have a usual, just pick one. Talk to the employees. Start a conversation with a customer. Independent record stores are one of the few kinds of retail establishments in which you can strike up a conversation with a complete stranger at random and not be thought crazy. It’s a pretty magical thing.
And, with tomorrow being Record Store Day, seriously, what better time to start? I know that I had a pretty good time with Anthony on Record Store Day last year, traipsing to AKA and Repo in Philly, Princeton Record Exchange, and Princeton Record Exchange. I came out with all kinds of cool loot last year, including Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks’s “Cold Son” 10” single, a 12” EP of Arthur Russell covers including Jens Lekman, and 7” singles from Death Cab for Cutie, R.E.M., The Breeders, and the Black Keys. Tomorrow’s list of exclusive releases is a completely tl;dr clusterfuck of amazing releases, which promises some hard decisions on my part. Among the highlights:
And there will be more that I will find interesting, I’m sure. Stay tuned for tomorrow’s likely recommendation, listening to 5 days worth of new music.
* * *
N.B. Miranda has directed me to an interesting interview with a gentleman who has made a film on the state of the independent record store. He shares some of my ideas about the record store being a community space beyond just a retail space. You can find it here.
"An omniscient narrator with magical powers grants the wishes of four bratty kids by teleporting them to a tropical island where there are no rules. [...] As in Lord of the Flies -- which this film suspiciously resembles -- the little children quickly become dirty, hungry, and physically battered, and their anarchist Eden falls apart. Holiday from Rules conflates happiness and conformity (as do many films from the 1950s), but after the kids have been slapped around a little, they're more than willing to see things the narrator's way.
(pp. 158-159)
Today I recommend taking a day off. From anything. (Actually, I guess I recommended that yesterday.)
Okay. Take two.
Today I recommend: checking your credit report.
I had never done this before. It’s not that I didn’t care what my credit rating it; it was just that I was not concerned. I was secure in the knowledge that my credit was good. I paid my things on time. I didn’t abandon debts. I had gotten into some situations when I was younger, but I had resolved it all, and it was all old enough that it should have been off of my report.
A couple of weeks ago, on a whim, I decided to check my credit reports as a way of procrastinating from actually doing anything productive, i.e. schoolwork. What I found really shocked and amazed me.
The first one I ran was through Experian. Experian just had a staggering amount of blatantly false/inaccurate information about me. I’m talking:
I filed disputes with all of the incorrect information on Experian, then moved on to TransUnion. TransUnion’s free service is very helpful, in that it will actually supply you with your report for all three credit reporting agencies. TransUnion was also the most accurate of the three with my records, although I still found a lot of my parents’ accounts somehow tied in to my identity. Still, though, the fact that they had the most accurate records of the three was tied in to the fact that my numerical score with them was also the highest.
I’m warning you all now – EquiFax is a pain in the ass. It’s a good thing TransUnion allowed me to view my EquiFax report, because EquiFax did not seem to allow me to generate a free report. EquiFax’s website seems to imply that one is only entitled to a free online report if one was recently denied credit. Otherwise, I was free to request a hard copy via mail. Fortunately, I already had the report from TransUnion, so could just take that information and dispute it online, right?
Wrong.
In order to dispute something online with EquiFax, one needs to have gotten their report online from EquiFax. Something for which I was not eligible.
Oh well, there’s always telephone.
Right, except that in order to dispute by telephone, one must already have a report number. One obtains a report number from… that’s right, you guessed it, opening an online report from EquiFax.
At least they allowed me to print out a PDF and write in my information and EVERY DISPUTE I wished to make. By hand. I couldn’t even type into it and then print it out. Fail. EquiFax is quite obviously the least user-friendly and most behind-the-times of the three agencies.
Perhaps it is not coincidental that my EquiFax score was the lowest of the three. Like, depressingly low.
So basically, after being responsible and working my ass off to keep up with this stuff and rebound from some mistakes I made years and years ago, it was a real revelation to find that my scores, which I had assumed were safely in the at least moderately high range, were just scraping along in the acceptable range (and one of them not even). All due to misinformation, mistaken identities which should never have been an issue, and some off-the-wall random errors that seem to have come from absolutely nowhere.
I’m waiting to get all of this straightened out. I’m already so stressed out with school and with work, It’s really taken a mental/psychic toll on me. I suppose the lesson/moral here is that it is your right to view your information on this shit and to make sue that everything is nice and accurate. If you don’t do it, nobody is going to do it for you. These companies, it goes without saying, don’t care about you and will not hesitate to crush you given the chance. Don’t let it happen. Be assertive and call these companies out on things when they need to be called out.
Now, more than ever, we need to stand up to these corporations and claim the rights to which we are entitled. If we don’t, who will?
* * *
N.B.: Do not make the same mistake I did and go to each credit reporting agency website individually. It would have saved me a lot of trouble last week had I seen this before I did so. In any case, I have already cancelled the “free trials” of the services that are rather bogusly associated with these agencies, since I have already gotten the information I wanted out of them. At least for next year I know about this truly free consolidated report.
Basically, one good thing happened to me. One thing. Okay, so I’m exaggerating. But still. I received a shipment from UPS today. There were three things in this shipment. I am going to write about one of those things. Today, I would like to recommend to you the Audio-Technica AT-PL120 Direct Drive Professional Turntable.
Some background would probably be prudent at this point. For at least the last 10 years, I have been using an Aiwa compact bookshelf system for my home listening needs. It was an all-in-one system – tuner, dual cassette deck, 5-disc CD changer, and a turntable. None of the individual components were really remarkable in any way, but overall it was a solid little system with some decent speakers. Plus, it had a turntable, which was quite uncommon in those days – hipster vinyl fetishizing culture had not emerged yet back then, but since I constantly hung out in an independent record store that dealt in vinyl (R.I.P., Full Circle), I had become enough of a record geek to get really into vinyl.
Anyway, a couple of years ago the CD changer started to go. By this point I was buying things on vinyl whenever I had a chance, so it wasn’t really a big deal. I reserved listening to CDs for the car or, if it was absolutely necessary to listen to a CD at home, I would use the computer. Not the ideal setup, especially when I was used to the sound of vinyl on some fairly big speakers, but I was willing to deal.
When I moved into this apartment a couple of years ago, I tried listening to one of my tMG tapes and found that now the cassette decks had gone to pot. Oh well, I thought, I still had the turntable. Of course, it did sound to me like perhaps the drive mechanism was starting to go in the turntable, as the pitch seemed to increase after a few minutes of play – almost as though the drive on the system took a few minutes to warm up and get itself up to speed. Again, I dealt with it.
When I mentioned the state of my stereo to my parents, my father gave me an old Fisher receiver and cassette deck that he had lying around in the basement, saying that they were good components with a lot of power. I don’t doubt that they were good components in their day, but unfortunately, when I got them home and tried them, I found that the cassette deck had completely died, and the receiver had completely lost sound in the left channel.
At Christmas, my parents gave me some money for the specific purpose of either getting my existing stereo equipment repaired or helping to purchase new equipment. I put the money aside as I tried to decide what my next step would be. As I tried to decide, I purchased yet another cassette deck from Goodwill, testing it at the store first to make sure the machine functioned. It did, so I brought home a Pioneer deck. I finally hooked it up and tied it out last week, when I decided to give a listen to a Franklin Bruno cassette I had recently purchased on eBay. It sounded beautiful for about the first half of side 1. Then, the warble as the drive mechanism began to steadily slow to a halt….
I think as soon as that deck died, I had made my decision. In a rush of depression or mania (I’m still not quite sure which it was, really), I went and pretty much purchased an entirely new stereo system (I am keeping the old speakers for now) component by component, using both the money my parents had given me and leftover tax refund money. Due to availability, user reviews, and price, my system will be a bit of a Frankenstein, with three different manufacturers being represented. But when it is done, it will be glorious.
So all of this brings us up to the actual recommendation – the turntable. There’s a catch, however: the receiver I ordered does not actually arrive until Thursday, thanks to FedExFail. In other words, I have not properly experienced the turntable yet. I have been able to hook up the turntable to the computer and listen through laptop speakers, but, as has already been discussed, NOT THE SAME! But, I can give a conceptual/anticipatory recommendation, anticipating the further recommendation of stereo equipment that is almost sure to appear on this blog at some point this weekend.
I can try to describe to you the graceful sleekness of the tone arm, the gentle bend that looks so unnatural but so zen-like at the same time. I can try to convey to you the tactile pleasure of setting the tone arm balance, which is something that I had never done before, having only ever owned cheap, low-end turntables. I was not even aware of such a thing until today!
I can try to make you understand just what that feeling is when you actually lift the tone arm, transport it over to the spinning grooved platter, and gently let it down onto the disk. It’s almost like a spiritual experience for an agnostic, really. There’s a solemn reverence to it. It feels almost like a ritual. Those first few crackles before the first note sounds? Those are perhaps my favorite sounds in the world.
I can try to make you see the device the way I see it. How skeletal it is. Its leanness – how is something that can look so unsubstantial be so solid and heavy? The cartridge and headstock look to me like components for a scale model of an alien spacecraft. This machine is a wonder of design and style and utilitarianism.
The thing is, I can try to tell you all of this stuff, but in the end I can’t help but fail. This is the kind of stuff you can’t tell somebody. One either already knows it or one don’t, and if one doesn’t already know it, then one never will. All hipster fetishizing aside – there is something almost sacred or holy about pulling out a piece of vinyl, laying it on the platter of the turntable, and lower the stylus into the groove. This is why I’m always tempted to buy vinyl reissues of albums I already own on CD. CDs just feel so cheap and crass and impermanent next to a good record.
Okay, so this post is truly all over the place, so I should really wrap it up. I do want to add that this turntable has tons of additional features, which you can read about on the product page linked above and which I will probably blog about this weekend. Also, I should point out that I have plugged the turntable into the computer to test it out. The line-level output seems a bit loud – I obviously won’t be ripping any of my vinyl for portable listening through the direct input. But, even in this inferior listening situation, I can already hear how superior this turntable is to any that I have ever owned. Before beginning this entry, I listened to side 1 of Grizzly Bear’s Sorry for the Delay, and this blog was written to the tune of the No New York compilation and Cat Stevens’s soundtrack to Harold and Maude (which, for the record, sounds fucking amazing, even on these tiny speakers – such a rick sound!). All this bodes well for the arrival of the receiver and the experience of actually listening to these records on a real stereo system. N.B.: I did not pay $400 for this turntable, as the product page would have you believe. Based on just these results, however, I would be willing to do so.
And just take a look at it. Isn’t it beautiful?
Posts
All Comments
