• Vol. 05
  • Chapter 09
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between the LP and the CD was the cassette,
before I bought a CD player, and when they
stopped putting albums out - some of them I
ended up buying twice if the band was just too
good for the clunky, dolby-butch sound, and
anyway my hi-fi is designed for both CDs and LPs
and I’ve still got my vinyl - now that it’s back in fashion
Climax Blues Band albums go for £30

the cassette got tangled in the machine so
you were afraid to play it, stretched into elongated
chords, as if the Beatles were still messing about
on four track trying to turn Echo and the Bunnymen
into Sergeant Pepper, which they weren’t, of course,
because John Lennon was dead, shot through the
heart by someone who hadn’t got into i-players yet
and probably didn’t keep hold of his vinyl

I suppose it’s ironic that when I went to see
the Table Scraps (or they came to see me
supporting Son of Dave) they had brought out a
record exclusively on cassette tape which they
thought was wonderful and the best sound you
could achieve, distorted the way bass speakers
do when you turn them up too loud in a pub
which is hardly big enough for amplification



anyway, the point I’m getting to, pop-pickers,
is that the youngsters of today are an odd bunch
wanting to go back to the medium of sound
reproduction we most despised, just because
Mp3 sound is slightly evened out and their
young ears can tell the difference - me, I
want to plonk a CD in the slot and forget
I’ve got it on behind the e-mail that I’m writing

I suppose it’s something you can only expect,
given the great advance in technology, that
someone, perversely, will prefer the old, and
as with all absurdities, turn it into an icon:
blank white label, that everyman of music-style,
black plastic cassette case (some cassettes came
in orange and purple back in the day) a green
background, no texture, like a veil over goodness

(couldn’t have been done without photoshop, you think,
but don’t tell them, it’s their rebellion against progress)