I fell in love with music collecting thanks to hip-hop. My dad had stacks of wax so the music-collecting bug was in my blood; it just hadn’t bit me yet. In fact he took me to buy my first cassette tapes, which I believe were Salt n Pepa “Hot Cool & Vicious” and JJ Fad “Supersonic”. These were not the first tapes I owned at all, I had a few dirty dubs (rerecorded prerecorded cassettes), late night radio mix show tapes, and hand me down cassettes but, the albums I purchased were definitely different. The crisp album inserts, the pristine clear plastic cases, the unworn print on the cassette; I had no idea how big of a rush it would be to line them up against later purchases. Those two albums were bought with MY money. They were bought with the urgent feeling of “I have to have this album more than anything else in this store”.

Since those initial purchases I had graduated to shoveling snow for cassette tape money and at times garnishing grocery money for compact discs. I likened each purchase to meeting a new woman. There were times when I fell in love with my purchases, and other times when I wish I hadn’t spent my last dollar on that shit. However, each time I built a relationship with my collection and the many artists in it. It wasn’t so much the love of the music that kept me buying; it was the love of collecting that kept me at the register broke as hell, but very well listened. I have maintained a tradition of stepping up and buying music from the artists I feel speak to me on a personal level. Ahem, excuse me… *had* maintained a tradition of buying music.

Okay I guess I should come clean. I have a confession to make; I am having an affair on my love of collecting CD’s. I found a mistress. She doesn’t make me feel like I do when I’m buying CD’s, but she lets me get my “instant gratification” rocks off a whole hell of a lot faster. Her name is MP3. When I became too deep in debt to cater to my love of collecting CD’s she rushed to the rescue. MP3 and me have been creeping around for a little over 4 years now and I just realized how passionless our love affair is. We still get hot and heavy at times but its like I’m left empty and unfulfilled when its over. The impact that this little virtual vixen has had on my music collection is truly a double-edged sword. I blame bills and bottom bucket salaries for allowing her to interfere in our relationship.

On one end of the spectrum, the volume of new music I have gained access to because of her is mind-boggling. Thanks to an assortment of file sharing programs I have found myself with more music than I can humanly absorb in my free time (minus my 40 hour workweek and personal pursuits). I’m left with volumes of unheard, neatly filed away data CD-R’s chock full of stolen music. Where jewel cases and album cover art/liner notes once stood, now cowers spindles of almost anonymous burned CD’s permanently vandalized by my own sharpie scrawled handwriting. There are those glaring moments where I find myself marveling at the gift that she, this goddess of binary code, has imbued upon me. Times like when I can get an album to “preview” weeks before the release date, or when I happen upon rare or hard to find demos or shelved albums. Times like these make me feel like the coolest kid on the block with the fastest, shiniest new bike, that expensive new action figure, or the coveted $125.00 sneakers (back when I was still being fed and clothed by mom that was a lot to pay for some kicks). For the most part, looking back at stolen moments spent with the lady in question, I could be compared to a lowly thief. Yup, a thief. I’m nothing more than a fee and customer away from being a bootlegger.

On the greener side of the fence is a time when going to the record store to spend time with my love of collecting was a ritual. Toiling over purchasing a tried and true classic that would give definite satisfaction or copping that hot new release that the streets are buzzing over as she watched with anticipation. Talking to the sales clerk about what was in stock, what got pushed back, what was worth the money (or not) and actually at times being more knowledgeable than these ‘paid professionals’ thanks to my late night cruises on the information super highway with her. Deciding whether or not to round out my food-or-music purchase with the latest issue of ‘XXL’ or ‘The Source’ magazine all while disdaining each rag for its incomplete coverage of music or uninformative regurgitated record reviews as she agreed in silent concordance. Driving miles to the all in one major chain electronics/appliance/audio/video/computer store in lieu of the local endangered mom n pop shop because everyone knows they got lower prices and most times I wasn’t supposed to be buying nothing but electricity for the month. A time when leaving the store with my newly acquired soon to be friends or foes would climax in the parking lot with me mulling over ‘must hears’ and ‘can waits’ only to slide a fresh new disc into my the CD player while breezing through the liner notes to get a jist of who produced or cameo’s on what song. A time when going the long way home five miles below the posted speed limit was the most desired route because an empty car (save the driver of course) is the ultimate listening party. A time when the cell phone would NOT get answered until I could pause the new audio presentation between songs. Ah yes, the good ole days, when it was my baby, my wallet and I against the world.

I miss struggling with her jewel case shrink-wrapping as a direct result of struggling with my inner accountant over money I struggled all week to earn. Besides, burned MP3 CD’s don’t play in every CD player, and sometimes they sound all “static-y” in my car stereo. Meanwhile my true love watches me drift away and begs my attention, crying for me to come back by calling her peoples (the RIAA) and telling them to lower prices, and arrest people caught with that tawdry whore (MP3). Honestly, it’s almost working. I can’t stand being away from my love and her colorfully detailed love letter liner notes, that make cryptic references and shout out everybody from Lyor Cohen to the boys down at Goodies BBQ Shack. Occasionally I even go to the store and buy something, just so I can remember why I fell in love with her and why I need to really leave that other bitch alone.

I (like so many others) have let the MP3 steal the adventure of record collecting from me. Yes its convenient to hear an album pre-purchase and yes its horizon broadening to hear an album I wouldn’t necessarily consider buying and yes *sigh*… it is exciting to have an album before the rest of my friends but there is a definite trade off, especially for someone of limited financial resources. I don’t think I have set foot inside of a record store with the intentions of buying a record in months and I honestly don’t know when I will again (I forgot about that ‘kast dropping this month and that is definitely getting scooped up like dog shit in a public park). Hell one of the only records that I had been looking forward to blindly purchasing has been leaked and I caved under the pressure, only to find out it was not as good as I expected. Had I walked into the store and paid for it I would have given it a stern three listens before dismissing it, but thanks to my microwaveable, MP3 encoded attention span it barely has received a full spin. I know… sad, very sad.

This shit has got to stop! I gotta to get back to buying and collecting. I need to, I have to for the sake of our relationship. I know she will forgive me. And you know what? While I was proofreading this I became inspired by an epiphany of sorts. Writing this has reinvigorated my dollar. It has made me want to go out and buy that album that I otherwise would have searched, sampled, sorted and stored away with the rest of my pirated programs, pilfered films, and stolen sound recordings. Yes I can feel the change brewing inside. No more spindles! No sharpies! NO MORE I SAY!!! I think I’m gonna take a trip to the record store this payday, hell I think I’ll go today! Yeah my mind is made up, its time to resume my financial show of support and thank my favorite artist by helping his label recoup its expenses …just as soon as the new hot shit I got in queue finishes downloading.